Captain Spaulding on Skull Island

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I wrote this little ditty last year when the blog DO SOME DAMAGE was looking for Holiday Flash Fiction.

Here it is again. Happy Holidays!
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FATTY AND TINSEL-TOES KILL A CHRISTMAS GOOSE
by John Weagly
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“What you want to do for Christmas?” Tinsel-Toes asked.

“Eat somethin’ good,” Fatty said. “A special Christmas dinner.”

Fatty was six foot two, three-hundred pounds, white hair, white beard and partial to wearing red. Tinsel-Toes was three foot seven, had pointy ears and liked to personalize his appearance with the color green. Together they looked like Santa and his A-Number-One elf. They had real names, but everyone that knew them called them Fatty and Tinsel-Toes.

They were sitting on the handed down and then handed down again couch in Fatty’s mobile home, listening to Twisted Sister’s “A Twisted Christmas” CD. It was December twenty-fourth.

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Tinsel-Toes said. “You still got that hatchet?”

“Yeah.”

“Get it. We’re going to Garland Park.”

Fatty stood, his brain trying to catch up with what was going on. “What we gonna do in Garland Park?”

“Take care of those geese. They think they own that damn pond.”

“What ya mean?”

“You go there to feed the ducks, the geese steal all the bread. They chase the other animals away.”

“Even the squirrels?” Fatty asked.

“Even the squirrels.”

“I don’t like that.”

“There’s one that’s the leader,” Tinsel-Toes said. “He’s bigger than the rest. Darker. We take him out, the rest will fall in line.”

“And then we eat him. A special Christmas dinner.”

“Exactly.”

Garland Park is on the south side of Currie Valley and in Garland Park is a pond and in that pond are waterfowl. Mallards, wood ducks and Canadian geese. People go there to spend time with them, to throw bread scraps at the birds.

It was cold, snowy and windy. The sun was going down. When Fatty and Tinsel-Toes got to the pond, they found the gaggle of geese huddled together under a picnic table a few feet from the water’s edge. There were six of them, six geese a-laying.

“Which one is it,” Fatty asked, giving his hatchet a few practice swipes. It was an old one with a wooden handle and a rusty blade.

“You’ll see.”

Tinsel-Toes took some oyster crackers out of his pocket and scattered them on the ground. The geese saw the cuisine, stood and started to lumber over. One of them was clearly larger than the rest.

“Right,” Fatty said. “I’ll take care of him.”

“Careful, he’s a tricky one.”

“He ain’t nothin’.”

Fatty approached the malicious goose, still swinging the hatchet. Ice and snow crunched under his feet. The five average geese went their own separate ways, but the big bird was curious. He stood his ground. Fatty and the goose each took their time, checking the other one out. They looked like two sumo wrestlers preparing to engage, one human and one fowl.

“He must think I’ve got a treat,” Fatty said, “This is gonna be easy.”

“Just keep your eye on him.”

“I can already taste him melting in my mouth.”

When he was close enough, Fatty raised the hatchet over his head. The goose knew something wasn’t right, he puffed himself up and charged, letting out a livid hiss. The goose’s aggression startled the hatchet-wielding hunter, causing him to slip on the ice. Fatty stumbled, tumbled and went down.

And that was it. Fatty fell on the hatchet, the angle of the plummet opening up the back of his skull. Blood and brains stained the snow.

The killer regained his composure as the other five geese honked in admiration.

Someone nearby had a fire burning in a fireplace and Tinsel-Toes could smell the smoke. He wasn’t sure what had happened. One minute Fatty was there, the next minute he was on the ground.

The geese understood, though. It was war! There was still one human left, the one that had the crackers. They formed themselves into a V and started toward the dwarf.

Tinsel-Toes looked around. The pond was behind him and the geese were in front, fanning out, surrounding him. The average Canadian Goose stands thirty-three to forty-five inches tall. Tinsel-Toes was forty-three inches. It was also six against one.

In a flurry of beaks and feathers it was over. It didn’t end well.

But in Garland Park on December twenty-fourth, six angry geese got a special Christmas dinner.

-the end-
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I sat down to write a 2-page Thanksgiving play specifically to post on this blog.

Here’s what came out.

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SQUASHIN’ THE GOURD
By John Weagly

(Lights up. A living room. KATHERINE and BILLY sit on a couch. KATHERINE organizes a basket of gourds on the coffee table while BILLY reads a newspaper. KATHERINE glances out the window.)

KATHERINE: Looks like a nice night for a walk.

BILLY: I don’t like autumn.

KATHERINE: What’s that, dear?

BILLY: I don’t like this time of year – fall, autumn.

(KATHERINE holds up a gourd.)

KATHERINE: This might be a squash. What’s a squash doing with all of these gourds?

BILLY: In autumn the nights are brisk and almost never balmy. I don’t like that, and I’ll tell you why! At other times of the year, it is possible go for a brisk walk on a balmy night.

KATHERINE: No, it’s a gourd.

BILLY: However, at this time of the year, it is not possible to go for a balmy walk on a brisk night.

KATHERINE: Definitely a gourd.

BILLY: Brisk walks on balmy nights – Possible! Balmy walks on brisk nights – not possible! Not possible at all! I don’t know if that’s due to the weather or vocabulary or the ebb and flow of the continental drift, but it seems damn inconsistent.

KATHERINE: I wonder who first decided we should eat squash and not gourds? They’re quite similar. Different colors, gourds have bumps and squashes don’t, but they’re very, very similar. Of course, there might be gourds out there that are smooth and squashes that have bumps all over. What do I know? I’m no expert. I always thought that cornucopias had gourds in them. When I‘d see pictures of them, it seemed you’re average horn of plenty had corn, tomatoes, apples, grapes and, I’d always assumed, gourds. But maybe I’m wrong? We don’t eat gourds, so they’re probably squash.

BILLY: The balmy-brisk conundrum. That is why I don’t like this time of year and why I won’t go for a walk. No walks! Not this autumn or any other.

(KATHERINE picks up a gourd and tries to take a bite out of it. She makes a face.)

KATHERINE: Yuck! Too hard! I bet that’s why we don’t eat gourds. They’re too hard. Squash is simply easier to eat.

BILLY: Squash is a gourd. A cucumber is a gourd and a pumpkin and a variety of melons. Technically they’re all in the same family. All gourds.

KATHERINE: I want a divorce.

(BILLY lowers his paper. Lights down.)

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I wanted to post something for Halloween, so I thought I’d put up this short play. I wrote it last October for a theater company that wanted seasonal plays that were “odd.” Nothing ever happened with it. I sent it in and then the company canceled the evening.

I don’t quite know how good or bad it is, but suppose it’s odd enough.

A HEAD FOR RECIPES
by John Weagly

(Lights up. A kitchen. PAULA and KIM are making a pie. PAULA sits still while KIM scoops pie filling out of PAULA’s head.)

PAULA: Nobody’s really sure why my head is the way it is. I was just born that way! Pumpkin for brains! Doctor’s have done tests. Scientists have done experiments. The government even did a few investigations. My brain has been the subject of more scrutiny than Al-Qaeda and Lehman Brothers combined. Just the way I was born.

KIM: Bend down a little.

PAULA: I thought maybe my Mom swallowed a few pumpkin seeds when she was pregnant with me. That’d make sense, right? In a fairy tale kind of way. But that’s just silly! Besides, she doesn’t eat anything with pumpkin. Not pumpkin muffins or pumpkin pie or pumpkin cookies or pumpkin nut bread or pumpkin cake or spiced pumpkin mini tarts or pumpkin pancakes or pumpkin Belgian waffles or Moroccan pumpkin soup or pumpkin chili or pumpkin stew, which you actually cook in the pumpkin, or grilled pumpkin or pumpkin marmalade or pumpkin preserves or pumpkin beer and certainly not pumpkin seeds.

KIM: You know a lot of pumpkin recipes.

PAULA: I have to! I believe in creating opportunity for myself. You have to corner the market on something in this economy.

KIM: Maybe it’s a Gypsy curse.

PAULA: My pumpkin brain?

KIM: Yeah! That kind of stuff happens all the time! I had a friend in the third grade, Sally Marquette, that had webbing between her toes. That’s what she said it was, a Gypsy curse. Her Mom made a Gypsy mad and then Sally had to bear the brunt of that anger. Of course, she went on to be an Olympic swimmer, so I guess it didn’t work out the way the Gypsy had hoped.

PAULA: See! You have to create opportunity for yourself.

KIM: You’re empty.

PAULA: What?

KIM: All hollowed out.

PAULA: On All Hallows Eve. Did you get enough?

KIM: Sure did! This is wonderful. Thank you for coming in! This is so much easier than cleaning a bunch of pumpkins and so much tastier than using the canned stuff.

PAULA: Is this for something special?

KIM: Love potion. My boyfriend loves pumpkin pie, so…

PAULA: You’re creating opportunity for yourself.

KIM: Exactly! What happens now? With your head?

PAULA: It fills back up. I go to bed empty then wake up the next morning, my head brimming with pumpkin! Always does. Nobody knows why, just the way it is. It grows back overnight, just like skepticism about the government right after an election.

(KIM takes out her wallet and pays PAULA.)

KIM: Maybe I can see you again next year?

PAULA: If we make an appointment now. I get pretty busy. Every October there are a lot of people that want to pick my brain.

(Lights down.)
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I haven’t mentioned this yet, but I had a new book come out in June.

It’s called A BUCKET OF BOOBS and it’s available on Kindle (right here).

Here are a few details:

Working girls.

Sometimes with a heart of gold, sometimes with a heart of coal and sometimes just showing up late to the party, they’re out there – walking the beat, fulfilling dreams and doing what they can to make ends meet.

Sex sells and sex is for sale in these three stories of pimps and prostitutes by Spinetingler Award nominee and Derringer Award winner John Weagly.

Featuring cover art by Deborah Paulik

Only 99cents!

Why not buy a copy today? Or two? Or Three?
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Wrapping up the Noir City Festival.

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Tuesday 8-16-10……….A NOIR CITY DOUBLE FEATURE!
The Story of Molly X (1949) – Noir City
Directed by Crane Wilbur. Screenplay by Crane Wilbur. Starring June Havoc, John Russell and Charles McGraw.
Hard-boiled June Havoc starts her own gang after her husband is killed. Things go pretty good for a while, but, as we often learn, crime doesn’t pay! She’s sent to a prison that’s more like a woman’s college than a penitentiary. Good beginning, nicely bizarre middle, lame ending.
3 out of 5 stars.
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Crashout (1955) – Noir City
Directed by Lewis R. Foster. Screenplay by Lewis R. Foster, Hal E. Chester and Cy Endfield. Starring William Bendix, Arthur Kennedy, William Tallman and Gloria Talbott.
Six inmates escape from prison and try to make their way to hidden loot, along the way they discover America. This was a great film! Every performance, every scene had just a little bit extra to really make it shine. The best of the fest!
4 out of 5 stars.
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Once again, Foster Hirsch introduced both of these films and held Q & A’s afterwards.
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I also read the short story “Crack” by James W. Hall. Voyeurism meets a nasty end.

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Wednesday 8-17-10
Among the Living (1941) – Noir City
Directed by Stuart Heisler. Screenplay by Lester Cole, Garrett Fort and Brian Marlow. Starring Albert Dekker, Susan Hayward, Harry Carey and Frances Farmer.
3 out of 5 stars.
More twins! Everyone thought the bad twin died 25 years ago, but he’s alive and well and on the loose! A nice hybrid of Film Noir and Horror.
Another introduction and Q & A from Foster Hirsch.
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I also read the short story “Deviances” by Frank Bill. From the new anthology NOIR @ THE BAR.

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That’s the end of Noir City Chicago 3. Six days in a row I made it out into the wilds of the Windy City, eight movies I made it to at the Music Box (and one I watched at home). For anyone that knows how much I hate going out in public, six days at a movie theater was quite a trial. There wasn’t a bad film in the bunch, but I liked “Loophole” and “Crashout” the best.

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Sunday 8-14-10……….A NOIR CITY DOUBLE FEATURE!
Larceny (1948) – Noir City
Directed by George Sherman. Screenplay by William Bowers, Herbert H. Margolis and Lou Morheim from the novel “The Velvet Fleece” by Lois Eby and John Fleming. Starring John Payne, Joan Caulfield, Dan Duryea and Shelley Winters.
Two grifters try to con a war widow out of her fortune. Complications ensue, mainly due to pesky human emotions. Not enough Dan Duryea, but a great performance by Shelley Winters as a tramp with a heart of tramp.
3.5 out of 5 stars.
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The Hunted (1948) – Noir City
Directed by Jack Bernhard. Screenplay by Steve Fisher (Hey! He wrote that story I read on Thursday!). Starring Belita, Preston Foster and Charles McGraw.
An ice-skating blonde gets out of prison to return to her cop-boyfriend that put her away. Does she love him? Will she kill him? Who really stole those diamonds. Nice interaction between the cop and the girl, but I had a hard time getting settled into this one.
2.5 out of 5 stars.
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Once again, Alan K. Rode introduced both of these films and held Q & A’s afterwards.
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I also read the short story “Eight Ball” by Scott Wolven. Wolven is a great, great, great short story writer. His collection, CONTOLLED BURN, is required reading for fans of hardboiled literature.

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Monday 8-15-10
Chicago Deadline (1949) – Noir City
Directed by Lewis Allen. Screenplay by Warren Duff from the novel “One Woman” by Tiffany Thayer. Starring Alan Ladd, Donna Reed and June Havoc.
Reporter Alan Ladd finds a dead girl and becomes obsessed with finding out about her life. Lots of nice late-1940’s Chicago footage, especially Michigan Avenue. This was good, but I just can’t stay interested in investigator journey stories anymore. Whether they’re cops, private eyes or reporters, I get bored with go-here-and-interview-this-person, then go-there-and-interview-that-person, then check-in-with-the-boss, then go-interview-this-person.
Foster Hirsch took over hosting duties from Alan K. Rode by introducing the film and holding a Q & A afterwards.
2.5 out of 5 stars.
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I also read the short story “For the Rest of Her Life” by Cornell Woolrich. Woolrich is a bleak, depressing master of noir who lived a bleak, depressing life.

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Once again that magical time of year has arrived – The Noir City Film Festival at the Music Box Theater here in Chicago. Run by the Film Noir Foundation, Noir City: Chicago 3 features double bills of well-known films and little-seen gems. The last two summers were awesome and I expect nothing less from this summer’s festivities.

You can check out the Film Noir Foundation here: http://www.filmnoirfoundation.org/

And… I have many, many movies piled up on my “To Be Watched” Shelves and many, many of those are noir, so some of those are going to be mixed in as well.

So, dark days are here again!

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Thursday 8-11-10
City of Fear (1959) – Home Viewing
Directed by Irving Lerner. Screenplay by Robert Dillon & Steven Ritch. Starring Vince Edwards, Lyle Talbot and Patricia Brown.
Vince Edwards escapes from San Quentin and steals a container of what he thinks is pure Heroin. What’s really in the container is… HIGHLY RADIOACTIVE COBALT-60! The rest of the film goes like this: scene with police searching and saying they can’t find the convict anywhere – scene with the convict slowly dying from radiation poisoning – scene with police saying they can’t find the convict anywhere – scene with the convict slowly dying from radiation poisoning – and so on. It wasn’t bad, but there could’ve been more to it.
2.5 out of 5 stars.
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I also read the short story “You’ll Always Remember Me” by Steve Fisher. Fisher wrote the novel “I Wake Up Screaming” which was the basis for what many people consider the first film noir.

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Friday 8-12-10
The Dark Mirror (1946) – Noir City
Directed by Robert Siodmak. Screenplay by Nunnally Johnson from a story by Vladimir Pozner. Starring Olivia de Havilland, Lew Ayres and Thomas Mitchell
Olivia de Havilland plays a pair of twins, one good and one insane. The bad twin kills a man, but no one can figure out which one is the murderer. What are the police to do, they can’t send both of them to prison. Than a clever psychiatrist realizes that he can pinpoint the bad one if he dates both of them.
The first film I made it to for this year’s Noir City Festival. Alan K. Rode, one of the directors of the Film Noir Foundation, introduced the film and held a Q & A afterwords.
3 out of 5 stars.
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I also read the short story “Gun Crazy” by MacKinlay Kantor. This story was the basis for the film of the same name. The movie is an excellent adaptation, the only major difference being that they turn it into a couple on the run instead of just a man by himself.

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Saturday 8-13-10
Loophole (1954) – Noir City
Directed by Harold D. Schuster. Screenplay by Dwight V. Babcock, George Bricker and Warren Douglas. Starring Barry Sullivan, Charles McGraw and Dorothy Malone.
A bank teller has $49,900 stolen from him in a clever con. An incredibly aggressive investigator tries to ruin his life so he’ll confess to the crime. This was a very entertaining little film with some good performances, although it does have some outlandish coincidences.
Another film at the Noir City Festival and, once again, Alan K. Rode introduced the film and held a Q & A afterwords.
3.5 out of 5 stars.
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I also read the short story “Missing the Morning Bus” by Lorenzo Carcaterra. A Man thinks one of his poker buddies is having an affair with his wife, but he’s in for a surprise! Lots and lots and lots of exposition.

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Ida Lupino died on August 3, 1995. The Ida Lupino Facebook Page Blog is hosting SPREAD THE IDA LOVE: THE IDA LUPINO BLOG-A-THON that culminates on that sad anniversary.

I’m a big fan of Ida. She was an actress, writer, producer and director and was a key element in many old films that I love (especially some wonderful film noir).

I found out about this blog-a-thon only an hour ago, but I wanted to contribute something. I came up with this (very) short play.

And check out The Ida Lupino Facebook Page Blog to see what other people came up with. You can learn a lot about a talented Renaissance woman.

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IDA EYES
by John Weagly

(Lights up. LANA and STELLA are on stage. LANA looks at the cover of the DVD of “Moontide.”)

LANA: Someone should write a song about her eyes.

STELLA: Who?

LANA: Ida Lupino. That singer in the eighties sang about Bette Davis’ eyes, but I never liked Bette’s eyes. They were a little too buggy. I always liked Ida Lupino’s eyes.

STELLA: They are pretty.

LANA: Sultry.

STELLA: Full of character.

LANA: A promise and a threat, both at the same time.

STELLA: You know what kind of woman you’re dealing with when a woman has eyes like that.

LANA: “Moontide.” “They Drive By Night.” “The Man I Love.” “High Sierra.” “Out of the Fog.” “On Dangerous Ground.” “The Big Knife.” “Road House.” “Women’s Prison.” What would any of those movies be without Ida Lupino’s eyes?

STELLA: All those hard-luck dames. They’d all have flat eyes. Dull eyes. Ida gave them Ida eyes.

LANA: Ida Eyes. Exactly. (LANA tries to make her eyes look sultry.) Do I have Ida eyes?

STELLA: Not really. When you do that, you look like you need to take a pill to calm down. How about me? (STELLA tries to make her eyes look sultry.) Do I have Ida eyes?

LANA: No. Not at all. Not even close.

STELLA: I guess only one person had Ida eyes.

LANA: Right.

STELLA: Want to write a song? About Ida Lupino’s eyes?

LANA: Do you know how to write a song?

STELLA: No. Not at all. Not even close. Do you?

LANA: Not really. (Pause.) Want to go watch “Moontide?”

STELLA: Yes indeed I do. (They start to exit. STELLA sings to herself.) “Eyes like Ida Lupino, make me feel all… Make me want to… Make me think about…” What rhymes with Lupino?

LANA: I don’t know.

(They exit. Lights down.)

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What a busy month for this writer! With a new short story collection out on Kindle, A BUCKET OF BOOBS, and 15 of my plays running (1 at the Ensemble Theatre of Chattanooga, 1 at Hobo Junction in Chicago and 13 in my evening TALES OF THE TWINKLING TWILIGHT at Raven Theatre in Chicago), I thought I’d post a little something about one of my earliest influences.

Woody Allen.

Last night I watched the 1994 TV movie version of Don’t Drink The Water, so now I’ve seen every movie written and directed by Woody Allen. Here are some of my favorites and least favorites.

Favorites:

Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex But Were Afraid To Ask (1972)
Annie Hall (1977)
Manhattan (1979)
Stardust Memories (1980)
The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985)
Hannah and Her Sisters (1986)
Alice (1990)
Shadows And Fog (1991)
Bullets Over Broadway (1994)
Vicky Christina Barcelona (2008)

Least Favorites:

Zelig (1983)
September (1987)
Celebrity (1998)
Hollywood Ending (2002)
Melinda and Melinda (2004)

Woody was a big influence on what I put down on paper when I first started. That influence may have worn off a little over the years, but I think it still shows up from time to time.
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I have a new story, “Words Fall Like Nothing,” at the ultra-cool webzine SHOTGUN HONEY.

Check it out here.