Wednesday, November 30, 2016
This is how Mr. Griswald died: He drearily went to the bathroom in the middle of the night, didn’t turn on the light, fell swiftly toward the toilet, missed it, got up fine, pissed, went back to bed in the dark, and was hit in the liver by stray bullet from two blocks away.
Monday, October 31, 2016
His feet were in cold sand when a wave washed away his oldest son. They were in California on a windy day. He was no more than 50 feet away when it happened. His wife was in the beach house with their other son. He had watched countless waves crash upon the cold stone jetty, yet somehow, while he was sitting there on a piece of driftwood, he missed the one that swept his son out to the sea.
It took the Coast Guard a day to find the body. A freak event they said. No current should have taken him that far. No wave that size should have hit so suddenly.
Years later, the night before his younger son’s 23rd birthday, he was barreling down a long, straight interstate. He was supposed to go the next day with his wife, but they got a late night call that said their son got out of his room and was missing.
Ever since that day he lost his first son to the sea, he felt as if he couldn’t control anything. He couldn’t protect his family from the forces of the world. Even now, it was like at any moment friction could just vanish, and the cars on the road would start gliding and spinning like figure skaters on an icy lake in the winter.
He will never forget her eyes when he told her. It was like a piece of his and her souls were contained in that child, a piece that represented all the purest love and joy they knew. And that day it seemed to washed away. A wave took it as he sat there among the driftwood, and did nothing. And when he looked in her eyes, he saw them grow dimmer. A corresponding part of her was lost at sea. She cried in the day. She cried in the night. She cried loudest when no one was near. Her favorite foods seemed about as appetizing as a plate of sand. Her eyes never did gain back their luster. That once bright part of her became buried within, utterly, beyond recall.
Two years later, their other son turned 4 and was diagnosed with autism. They never once heard a single word from their child, nor did they see a single tear, even when he was dressed up in a little suit for his brother’s funeral. Their son just examined the room and met every sad face with a static glare. A flock of birds flew over the grave when they placed flowers on it once. Their son watched them until they were little black dots on the horizon. He swore that at that moment his son almost said his brother’s name. He mouthed it soundlessly, and then looked down at his shoes.
Over the years they spent a fair amount of time in children’s hospitals. Having lost their first son, they intended to do everything possible for their now only child. They did all they could to provoke something out of their son. They liked to think that beneath that calm, wordless façade, a vortex of passion was churning. They bought anything their son seemed to cast attention on, but the fire trucks and action figures remained lifeless on the floor. One day, he bought a pack of markers for his son, and something clicked. The boy would spend hours turning white pages into swirls of woven color.
They took him to countless experts. He received groundbreaking scans, and was examined by the finest therapists. They thought it was going really well. When he was nine, their son was staying as a temporary resident in a premier children’s hospital in the city. The window washers dressed up like superheroes as they repelled down the glass walls. It gave the kids a sense of enchantment, they said. Well one day Superman didn’t attach his harness properly, and as he descended, giving inspirational smiles to sick kids in hospital beds, the line broke, and he fell to his death.
After that they kept their son home as much as possible. They figured it would only make it worse locking him away like that.
But when the boy got older, something dark within him seemed to emerge. Perhaps it was just his unique form of puberty. He no longer used color in his drawings, and just made black crow after black crow. He started playing with fire. He would collect shaving razors and hide kitchen knifes. As a young man, he was getting too strong to restrain. He started pulling out his hair and writing cryptic symbols on the white walls of their house. It almost looked like words, but still, they couldn’t tell if they were meant to be prayers or curses.
Their son’s behavior got so bad they had no choice but to put him back in a hospital. He was becoming a danger to himself and others.
Never before in his life did he divide time up like he did on that drive. Each moment ticked away a second in his heart.
The trees were swaying in the wind when the sun at last rose. The road seemed to shine, and though he still counted with each pinprick in his soul, he started imagining the hospital just around each corner.
He had almost forgot the gift for his son’s 23rd birthday, which would have devastated him. It became increasingly difficult to buy gifts for their son. Every object either contained some abstract evil or utter pointlessness. The boy could only have so many makers, pens, and sketchbooks. This year they decided to try something new. They went through storage of their other son’s old things. Almost 20 years later, but still, the sights made their scar feel like a fresh wound. The dust in the air made it seem like a gentle snow was the in the attic with them. They found a little stuffed dragon, their oldest son’s favorite toy, and resolved that it would be the perfect birthday gift for their youngest and last child.
When he was about five miles away from the hospital, he began to question the motive for going there in such a ferocious haste. Perhaps he went in the hope of seeing his son’s face one last time. That was a moment he didn’t cherish the last time one of his sons lingered near the border of death.
He wondered if his son blamed him for the death of his brother. His friends, his coworkers, his siblings, his elderly parents, even his wife at this point, they didn’t matter. He only wondered if his other son blamed him for doing nothing as his brother was lost in the deep blue waves. He had built layers over his heart to protect him from the judgment of others, but if for a moment he thought that his only remaining son resented him for that death, the layers would melt away like wax in the blazing sun.
When he finally arrived, a gentle rain had begun. As he walked through the parking lot, he began to softly cry, but no one would notice, for every tear that fell from his eyes was lost among a legion of raindrops.
Near the entrance, he noticed a dirty little puddle near the base of a tree. In that puddle was a sparrow that seemed unable to lift its head or body from the water. The puddle was growing as streams flowed down the trunk and branches of the tree. He couldn’t tell if it was already dead.
He walked inside and inquired his way to a nurse he had met there before. She explained to him that his son managed to get to the roof. He was in the low security wing. Never once did he do a thing like this. And well, when they realized he was gone and the roof alarm was triggered, some orderlies ran up there and saw him standing on the edge of the building, holding his arms in the air. They walked up, grabbed him, and walked him back inside. It was the first time anyone in the hospital had seen him smile. She said they found a note in his room; they’d seen him write what looked like a few letters jumbled up before, but last night wrote something coherent. They thought it was a suicide note. It seemed to be the first and last actual words his son had ever expressed in his life. She handed him the note. It was folded up. He put it in his pocket. She said he could see his son but he would probably be asleep at this point.
He walked into the room. It was still raining outside. The room was practically empty. There was just his son surrounded by a static sea of white. White walls, white sheets, white slippers on the floor, yet all slightly dimmed by the shadow of the clouds in the now opaque window. He didn’t want to wake his son, just see him. He whispered that he was sorry, that would get him out of here and take him home as soon as he could. He told him he loved him and they would be a family soon again.
He tried to leave but he couldn’t. He stood at the door soundlessly. He walked back to his son, took off his jacket and hat, and woke his son up. He made his son put on the hat and coat and said they were going for a vacation. His son followed him with the same placid face he always had. He left his oldest son’s stuffed dragon in the static white hospital bed. He knew the workings of a hospital well, and with his son disguised, they easily walked though the labyrinth and back to his car.
He started driving home but took a detour to the beach. It must have been 50 miles from where his son had washed away all those years ago.
They walked up close to touch the water with their hands. It was windy and the sand was cold.
They sat among the driftwood and watched the waves crash on the jetty. His son watched a flock of birds fly into the horizon and held his arms out.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the note that was still folded there. He smiled at his son, and threw it into the waves.
They looked at each other, as all the fetters fell off, and together they flew over the sea, farther, and farther still, until they looked like little black dots on the horizon.
Monday, October 3, 2016
I propose Halloween therapy.
We all sit in a room wearing masked costumes,
We can be anonymous and wholly truthful, just like on the internet.
We can discuss our anger, fear, and strange desires,
with a human voice,
instead of sad, lonely words on a screen.
I’d dress up as a plague doctor,
and read a little poem called “run red with blood,” which goes like this:
There was a ginger nurse who went by the name, “Red.”
One night, a man was losing a lot of blood after a bad car crash,
and Red ran down the hall with the new blood,
and the people in the hospital said, “Run, Red. Run.
And the other people in the therapy group would clap their costumed hands, and say,
“Congrats on being such a wretched, hopeless being.”
“Thanks, guys,” I’d say. “Thanks for listening. It means a lot.”
Then the girl with a Richard Nixon mask would explain how she has fallen out of love with her fiance, and she doesn't know how or if she should end it before it’s too late.
The dude dressed like Gandalf, with a big bushy beard, would talk about the time he slapped his friend with a greasy piece of pepperoni pizza after a night of heavy drinking, and they got into a fistfight, and now they don’t talk anymore. And it makes him very sad that a piece of greasy pizza ruined a great friendship.
And the soft spoken guy in a cat costume would tell us how, as if by some cruel and twisted joke of the universe, he was sexually attracted to birds.
We would all congratulate each other for being strong despite our problems. We’d say, “It’ll get better. It’ll get better.”
And we’d walk out of the room as costumed strangers. “See ya next time, cat guy,” I’d say. “Take it easy, Gandalf.”
And we’d go home, pluck the keys off our computer, and eat them for dinner.
I’d go to the hospital in my spare time dressed like a plague doctor. I’d stand there and drink coffee, whispering softly, “Run, Red. Run.”
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Someone gave me a money tree.
I planted it a few blocks away.
Everyday I must tend to my money tree,
hoping it grows big and wide, and makes me rich.
But caring for the money tree is not a simple task.
Sunlight and water do not nourish it.
Only blood, gasoline, sweat, and tears make it grow.
And those things don’t always come cheap.
Plus everyone is trying to steal from my money tree.
It’s small and pathetic right now,
but hey, money is money.
So I had to build fences around it, and keep guard all day.
Now I sit around, surrounded by barbed wire,
with the smell of blood, gasoline, sweat, and tears in the air.
Every once in a while, the greasy old tree coughs up a 20,
and I run to the corner store to buy fresh gas and syringes.
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
break your light on my window
show me that hell is empty
even if the devils are here
with eyes closed and
black-and-white old films
and family vacations
to the middle east
and wince at the same time
in a room that was once vibrant
with laughter, red dresses, and sweet summerwine
and now I can’t tell if it’s dirt
or a shadow on your face
for hours the faces morphed into clouds
shepherds guided ghostly sheep on ancient paths
and i couldn't take my eyes off
anything at all
“you are not alone
even the most offensive shadow
was made by light,”
a voice suggested
and I laughed
“shadows don’t offend me,
that don’t do their job”
Saturday, August 6, 2016
She always has the same look on her face,
and I distrusted her because of that.
But I guess most of the things she does are eerie,
so maybe it’s not her face’s fault.
She doodles on everything,
but draws the same exact picture
of a cat with a skull mask.
She balances on one foot
effortlessly like a bird,
weightless in the wind,
upheld by nothing but the stillness in the air.
She never raises the volume of her voice,
or even changes the pitch of it.
the rumor that goes around is that she’s a robot.
But I have a different idea:
I think she was born a girl,
and she slowly let herself become mechanical,
while the world replaced
her bones with steal,
her skin with a shell,
her heart with a watch
and her eyes with mirrors.
And then one day,
she painted her fingernails blue,
as the world told her it was too close to cobalt.
Friday, July 15, 2016
Today unnamed poets died.
Their verses fell on deaf ears,
and the sky did not cry for them.
The heavens weep for no one.
Tomorrow unnamed soldiers will be born.
Their fights began long ago,
and the stars don’t shine for them.
The stars will still shine when all wars have ceased.
Yesterday unnamed hearts stopped beating.
Because hearts don't have names,
and why would they?
The names carved even in stone are not immortal.
Yet the unnamed spiders still spin webs in the wind.
Unnamed flowers grow in the desert,
perhaps just to spite the nameless dust.
The flowers and dust fight like ancient lovers.
And the poets will die,
and the soldiers will be born,
and the hearts will stop,
and the spiders will spin,
as we skip across the sky
like rocks on a pond,
assigning names to every cloud.
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
-A play in three acts-
The Prophet, a mysterious wanderer
Fantasía, a tarot card reader
Rodrigo, an American surfer
Azar, a Mexican drug dealer
Filipe, Azar’s right-hand man
David, a rich British tourist
Ming li, an Asian-American DEA agent
Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark
Act I Scene I
Mexican/American border- Dawn
An armadillo burrows in the distance as a red sun rises. THE PROPHET, weary and covered in ragged clothes, stumbles through the red desert. He looks up, pulls the rags off his face, and sees a sign that says, “Welcome to Tijuana.”
God damnit not this place again.
A vulture swoops down from the red sky to a pile of bones. A gust of wind blows harsh sand across the landscape.
Act I Scene II
Streets of Tijuana- Morning
THE PROPHET walks through the dirty streets of Tijuana. Zombie-like tourists stumble to unknown locations in an effort to cure their hangover. THE PROPHET hears the sound of the ocean and begins to follow it. Street cats scurry away as he continues through the city. Eventually he arrives at the beach, where he sees RODRIGO stretching next to his surfboard in the morning sun.
Sahh dude, you here to shred some fuckin gnar dude? Waves are gonna be killer today.
Killer waves you say? Yes I think so. Death will come from the desert air today, false words and fear as well. As above so below, red sunrise, red sand.
Dude wat? Yur trippin me out man. Where's yur board at? Just here to chill?
Yes exactly. I have come here to make this scorching place much colder. Enjoy the waves today, my friend, for they soon shall turn to frost.
The fuck r u talkin about bruh? You pop some shroomies or some shit?
Beware the cards my friend. Here, take this.
(THE PROPHET reaches into his robes and hands RODRIGO a necklace with a shark tooth on it, it almost seems to glow deep blue)
Hold your breath and swim swim swim.
Ah wat, shit man for real?!
swim swim swim, the prince is coming.
ooooook…. Peace out i guess.
RODRIGO puts the shark tooth necklace on and runs to the water with his surfboard. The sun has finished rising and the landscape is now orange. RODRIGO watches THE PROPHET vanish almost like a mirage. He shakes it off and swims out to sea. Soon a massive 50-foot wave forms, and although RODRIGO shreds the fuck out of it, it eventually collapses on him and he is swept away into the sea.
Act I Scene III
Mexican shore- Midday
A crisp blue wave crashes on the deserted Mexican shore. There is an odd deeper blue glowing out in the ocean. It comes closer. Miraculously RODRIGO and his trusty surfboard are washed up on the shore, his sharktooth necklace still glowing brightly. RODRIGO coughs up water and regains consciousness.
shit bro. that was gnarly as fuck. how am I alive?
He looks down at his necklace. The blue light is slowly fading away.
Holy fuck trippy guy saved my ass.
He kisses the necklace and begins walking.
fuck man, i musta washed down like 50 miles. where the fuck am i??
He sees the outline of buildings in the distance and walks towards them.
shit i dont know spanish.
Act I Scene VI
Unknown Mexican Village- Midday
AZAR and FILIPE are sitting down and smoking outside a rundown house.
ey’ essay you see Carla yesterday? She was lookin gooood.
All I saw yesterday was fuckin cactuses. You never picked me up from El Descanso you fuck!
haha cuz I was too busy lookin at Carla! Who would pass that up for you?!
Last time I go solo to El Descanso for you, you fuck. I had two kilos with me man! I coulda got jumped by El Guapo’s boys, or eaten by fucking coyotes for all i know!
Eh cry me a fuckin river cabron, that’s what I pay you for. The desert air was good for you I think.
Pfff, see if you say that when I don't come back. You’ll be the one crying a river.
Uhhh heya guys… Hablo ingles?
AZAR *whispering to Filipe*
Looks like we got ourselves a lost gringo.
Si amigo, we understand english. You lost buddy?
Uhh yea man, got thrashed by a wicked wave and washed down the coast. How far is Tijuana from here?
Damn homie you came a long way. It’s a long drive north from here. But tell ya what, we got some business up there, we’ll help you out if you, uh, help us pay for fuel.
Shiit we’re going to Tijuana today? since fucking when? I thought we need to see Paco.
AZAR punches FILIPE in the arm. Startled, RODRIGO takes a few steps back and his necklace begins glowing again.
AZAR*pulling out a knife*
That oughta pay for it! And empty your pockets, throw over the board too!
Fuck no man! this thing saved my ass! and that board is my fuckin life brah!
you really gonna get stabbed for a surfboard gringo? Just hand the shit over or your day is about to get a whole lot worse.
AZAR walks toward RODRIGO, slashing with the knife. RODRIGO swings back with his board. The necklace grows brighter and waves in the distance seem to become larger. FILIPE sneaks up and bashes RODRIGO over the head with a tequila bottle. Blood and tequila run down his face as RODRIGO falls to the ground.
Act I Scene 5
Wilderness of Denmark- Evening
HAMLET is pacing the ramparts of his father’s castle, Elsinore. He hears the once familiar voice of his ghostly father whispering to him from the woods.
Forsooth, methinks I hear the call of my king forgotten.
Again he beckons me to take arms against a sea of injustice and troubles.
HAMLET walks into the foggy woods.
Father, what life have you cursed me with? Mayhaps I’m the one already in a grave? Oh what twisted fantasy is this?! I’ve seen a thousand place and a thousand more pages of time. Prithy Father, tell me where I must go this time and what must be done! Might I at last be free after this deed is done?
Tijuana. You must alter fate.
God damnit not that place again.
HAMLET is swallowed by a mysterious portal and vanishes from the woods.
Act II Scene I
Mexican Coast- Late Afternoon
AZAR and FILIPE are cruising up the Mexican coast in a red convertible. RODRIGO’s surfboard is in the back and AZAR is wearing the shark tooth necklace.
Man let me wear that thing! you know that’s my favorite animal!
Puta, I’m the shark here. If I find a little rabbit tooth necklace I’ll let you wear that.
Man fuck you. If you weren't my third cousin I woulda done you the same way I did that gringo back there.
You watch your fuckin tongue essay. I can find a new idiot with a snap of my fingers. You stepped on those kilos, right?
My shoe was a little dirty but yes.
You for real? I didn't mean for you to actually step on it fool! That means add more fucking white powder to it!
Then just say that next time. What am I some sort of code breaker?
You’re gonna pay for that one way or another. Good thing T.J. is full of stupid gringos. We can still shake em down for a good profit.
They drive off into the distance. Strong desert winds blow in their wake.
Act II Scene II
Unknown Mexican Village- Late afternoon
FANTASIA is walking through the empty streets of her village. She is dressed like a gypsy and bells jangle with every step she takes. Soon she comes across the unconscious body of RODRIGO.
Look at that, the hanged man comes to my doorstep. But where oh where the devil has the Devil run off to. You must have seen him. And you can help me find him. I know, I know, oh oh oh. The swords are falling, the cups have spilled, the wands are broken, and the pentacles have lost a side. Come with me stranger, or death shall be your only bride.
She drags him through the streets. Her bells still jingle as they disappear in the distance.
Act II Scene III
Downtown Tijuana- Dusk
AZAR and FILIPE are posted up on street corner, shady as fuck, scanning passer-bys. The sun is setting and the sky is red. FILIPE is wearing a backpack and holding the surfboard. AZAR is still wearing the necklace.
AZAR *examining the necklace*
man what made this thing all glowy before? You ever see anything like that?
street lights, a phone or tv, light bulbs, the sun, yea lots of shit glows.
No shit vato, but this thing ain't a fuckin light bulb. How the fuck you make a tooth glow?
Maybe there’s a light inside. Does it have a button or something? Talk to it maybe. What did the gringo do when it started?
He tried to hit me with that surfboard.
FILIPE hits AZAR with the surfboard.
I gotta hit you with it!
AZAR grabs the surfboard. (enter DAVID)
Uh pardon me lads... that fine gent over there said, that uh... you might have some cocaine for sale. If that’s the case I would be ever so grateful to procure some.
the fuck you doin saying it like that gringo? You think this is a fuckin game?
Oh dear, my apologies. I’ve never done something of this nature before. I just dearly hoped to try some on my journey here. “When in Rome” they say.
you a cop?
Listen to him! British people aint cops!
Indeed, I assure you sir, I am no constable.
Step into my office.
The 3 enter a dark alleyway. A black cat scurries by. The sun goes down.
Act II Scene VI
Fantasía’s Magic Shop- Night
Dim candles illuminate a variety of mysterious objects and ornate books. FANTASIA and RODRIGO are sitting across from each other at a table with tarot cards strewn about. RODRIGO has a bandaged head. He regains consciousness.
uhhhh fuck mang, where am i? how much tequila did I drink last night? the fuck happened?
Silence, the spirits are gathering.
Nah fuck the spirits! whats happening? whys my head hurt? where the fuck is my board brah?!
You’re safe. That which you steal will be stolen from you. That which is stolen will return.
Did fuckin Ricky spike my OJ with acid or some shit?! The fuck is wrong with people today?!
Silence mortal! They speak!
The table shakes and the tarot cards begin to whirl in a mystical little tornado.
Four tarot cards land face down on the table
Let us see what fate has in store for you my child.
Sure, fuck it.
She flips the first card.
Ah, the sun. Your past was a time of revelry. The sun never seemed to set did it? Yes, yes I can see it. The sun and the sea, you never thought of tomorrow. Everything was bright and glorious. Well those times have ended Rodrigo. You’ve been jaded. You’re more important than you can possibly know.
Yea I’ve been stoked a lot, what of it? I just want my fuckin board man!
She flips the second card.
The hanged man. You feel like a fish on a hook. Your life has been turned over. The wanderer is using you like a pawn. He means for you to be a martyr. You have loved waves all your life, he seeks to make you fear them.
Fuck that guy? I shoulda known that guy was bad news.
She flips the third card
The moon. Yes it will all happen tonight, I should have known. The wolf will howl and in their voice a thousand souls shall cry out in pain. This moon will be so big the tides will wash us all away. Blood, bullet shells, they shall fill the rivers and streams.. unless you stop them. You shall be the master of waves.
Master of babes more like it CHeA!
She flips the final card
The prince of swords. Oh my, this is more important than I thought. You need to leave. Now.
Say no more this place is creepy as fuck. But how the hell do I get back to Tijuana?
Here. Go! Look for the red light.
She throws him keys with a Mercedes symbol.
Uhhh word. Thanks. Peace out.
RODRIGO stands up and walks out the door. The dim candles are blown out by a gust of wind.
Act II Scene V
Tijuana alleyway- Night
AZAR, FILIPE and DAVID are gathered in a dark alleyway. DAVID seems a little on edge.
how much you want?
Oh dear, I’m really not sure. How much do I need?
how much denaro you got?
Shut up I do the deals. So much denaro you got?
I have 50 quid. Is that enough..
you tryna pay me in squids? fuck that vato I want cash.
Hey Azar we could sell that to asians for sushi and shit.
Oh deary me, I should have said 50 dollars. Old habits lads, this is my first time away from Yorkshire.
Yea that’ll do. Let me see it.
DAVID *taking out his wallet.*
Here you are then.
DAVID hands AZAR the money.
Give me your credit card too.
And i want your socks
Oh my, by Job. Is this a joke lads? Good on you!
Do i look like a clown gringo?! Hand it over!
The socks too!
A powerful gust of wind blows through the alley. A shadow emerges. (enter THE PROPHET)
I will give you something much better.
Brick walls grow around them. There is no escape.
That doesn't belong to you. But you have taken on its burden now. Come child, let me show you the power in your heart.
THE PROPHET approaches AZAR, grabs the sharktooth necklace in his hands and breathes into it. It glows as if he were breathing on embers. When he steps back the necklace is glowing a deep red.
The brick walls fall. THE PROPHET fades away like a mirage.
Act III Scene I
Streets of Tijuana- Midnight
AZAR and FILIPE are walking down the street with a quick pace. The necklace is still glowing a deep red. FILIPE is carrying the surfboard.
How you feel man? Is it magic or some shit?
I don’t know man. I feel cold.
Let me try it on man!
Fuck off, it’s mine!
AZAR shoves him and their contact causes sparks to fly.
AZAR punches him and it’s like an explosion. FILIPE is blasted into a wall.
Jesus man fuck you!
Guess I don’t need you anymore vato. Go run home back to your madre.
I’m taking the coke with me!
AZAR charges at him but soon both of their attention is turned to a very loud motorcycle. (Enter HAMLET) who leaps off it and stands before AZAR. *Mexican standoff guitar*
Perchance I might buy a gram of cocaine
And after a snort you shall hear my refrain
it’s not pretty, i assure you truly
it’s rather gritty, i shall destroy you cruelly
HAMLET draws a dueling sword.
This day just gets better and better!
AZAR takes out his knife and the necklace glows even brighter. His knife is transformed into a sword.
You egg! Young fry of treachery! Have at thee!
The two engage in a duel as FILIPE looks on helplessly.
where you come from gringo! You fucked with the wrong bandito!
through space and time I have come to slay you monster! Then mayhaps my soul shall put to rest.
AZAR cannot keep up with HAMLET’s swordplay, but the necklace radiates more and more.
Surely tis’ jest! A knave such as you cannot be the one I was sent here to dispatch!
Imma cut you so bad! Let’s see what gringo blood tastes like!
(Ender DAVID and MING LI)
DAVID *pointing at FILIPE*
That’s the rascal! He took my socks!
MING LI *pulling out a gun”
Hey you wanna buy some squids?
A massive explosion occurs and everyone looks over as HAMLET and AZAR are engulfed in flames.
MING LI *into a radio*
I need some backup
The flames clear and HAMLET and AZAR are still locked in combat. A Mercedes appears out of nowhere and crashes into a wall. (Enter RODRIGO)
Shit’s gettin real!
Give me my board back bro!
AZAR knocks the sword from HAMLET’s hand in another burst of flame. The sword falls in front of RODRIGO. He picks it up and looks at AZAR who is about to deliver the killing blow to HAMLET.
Gringo number 1, back for some more. Be with you in a sec.
That’s my necklace too brah!
He swings at HAMLET, but misses as HAMLET dodges away.
He’s the one with the cocaine officer!
Everyone stop now or you're all going to jail.
Eat a dick policia!
MING LI opens fire on AZAR. But FILIPE dives in front of him and takes the bullets. He falls bleeding to the street.
Fuck Carla once for me essay. *dies*
NOOOOOOOOOOO! You stupid little puta!
AZAR burst into flames and charges MING LI who keeps shooting to no avail. As the burning sword is about to connect with her it is stopped by RODRIGO who discarded the dueling blade for his trusty surfboard. HAMLET meanwhile grabs the backpack full of cocaine.
Jolly good! Give that rufian what he deserves!
You need to chill man!
Surfboard to blade, they engage in an epic battle. The more they fight the dimmer the necklace grows. Eventually it turns purple and breaks from its chain to float between them.
SWIGITY SHWAT? That’s a trippy necklace!
Shoulda done you in when I had the chance!
DAVID *to MING LI*
I say we let those two sort this mess out. That scoundrel over there! He must be a co conspirator. That’s the backpack with the drugs!
MING LI and DAVID chase after HAMLET
HAMLET *bumping cocaine*
Ere I go, like an arrow's flight!
Accost me not, and this shall be a grand night!
Meanwhile AZAR begins to lose stamina in his battle with RODRIGO. The floating necklace begins to glow brighter. The ocean swells in the west and a flaming sun rises on the opposite eastern horizon.
MING LI tackles HAMLET and cuffs him.
You’re under arrest for possession of narcotics, intent to distribute, theft, assault and sedition.
Do with me what you will. No prison is so vicious as mine own mind.
I say, I do rather enjoy the way this chap speaks.
RODRIGO knocks AZAR down and continues to beat him with the surfboard. THE PROPHET’s laughter is heard in the distance. The morning sun grows in intensity. A massive tidal wave forms and rushes towards Tijuana.
Get thrashed brah!
He delivers the killing blow to AZAR. His surfboard is stained with blood. The wave gets closer, destroying everything in its path.
Sweet Ophelia, I come to you at last.
The wave hits them. MING LI, HAMLET, and DAVID vanish in the water. But RODRIGO jumps on his board, the necklace glowing blue around him. THE PROPHET’s laughter gets louder. RODRIGO shreds the ever-living fuck out of that wave and rides towards the sun, which has mysteriously begun to sink, not rise, back into the eastern horizon.