Doomed Planet

2005-04-14T03:30:00.000-08:00

It's Make fun of Nazis Week!

Sorry, doomed planet's gonna be a while...

2005-04-14T02:44:00.000-08:00

...So here's a short preview from my next novel, Men and Angels
They piled onto the bus, all 20 of them, giggly and chattering away like it was a chartered bus rather than public transit. “Can you believe we’re going to the Laundromat?” Izrala giggled, “usually we’re not allowed to go until second semester!”

“We wouldn’t be going at all,” Yumi replied curtly, “if someone hadn’t broken the washers and dryers at school.”

Oh, lighten up, Yumi,” Theresa laughed, “it doesn’t matter who broke them. We get to go to the Laundromat!” Yumi just shrugged her shoulders in disgust.

Izrala knew what this was about. Where there were Laundromats there were boys, and where there were boys there was Charlie, Yumi’s long time love interest who had recently been seen around town with another girl. Secretly she felt sorry for her classmate, but she’d never say the words out loud. Yumi was the school Pariah, the only student who had admitted to having supernatural abilities. Izrala sometimes wondered if this is why Charlie was no longer faithful to his “precious Yumi, most beautiful of angels”, as her had once called her.

Hey, Izzi, whatcha thinking about?” Theresa grinned, “and don’t tell me nothing. I see that look in your eyes.”

“I’m thinking.... that I should have worn a nicer tee,” Izrala grinned backed, fingering the holes in her old grey sweatshirt. Theresa started to laugh and Izrala joined in, until both girls were almost rolling out of their seats with laughter. It had been a while since either of them had laughed that hard and it felt liberating, like a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. They were still giggling when the bus came to a stop in front of the Laundromat and they were forced to haul their bags down the isle.

“I think,” Theresa giggled, trying to catch her breath “we should have sat closer to the front.”

“I agree,” said Izrala, panting as she hauled her overstuffed garbage bag through the crowded seats, trying not to double over with laughter, “that would have been a good idea.” They finally made it into the Laundromat, trailing far behind their classmates.
The Laundromat was a massive concrete building with a reenforced canvas top, filled wall to wall with washers, dryers, and soap dispensers. There was a long row of tables in the middle for sorting and folding, and at the entrance a there was a boy who’s name tag read Joshua.

“Joshua,” Theresa started to giggle again, “wasn’t he from Israel?”

Izrala punched her friend in the arm. “Are you implying something?”

“Israel, Izrala, oh never mind! You’re so thick sometimes. Anyway, you should go talk to him.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Izrala protested, “don’t you think I’m a little out of his league?’

“Darling,” Theresa replied, “he works in a Laundromat. No one is out of his league.” She pushed her friend back towards the entrance. “Now go get him, tiger!”

“But what will we talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Theresa threw up her hands in frustration, “ask him for change or something. Just talk to him!”

Izrala walked hesitantly towards the boy name Joshua. His very presence made her knees tremble and her bottom lip quiver with fear and anticipation. He was beautiful to the point of otherworldly, with full lips, flawless skin, and a gorgeous set of baby blues. If I didn’t know better, Izrala thought, I’d think he was an angel. “Excuse me,” she asked politely, “do you have change for a five?”

He looked from his novel and smiled. “Of course,” he replied, “would you like that in quarters or dimes?”

“These machines take dimes?”

He grinned and shook his head. “No, I was just buying time so I could work up the courage to ask your name.” He took a deep breathe, then stuck out his hand. “Hi,” he mumbled, “I’m Joshua. Who might you be?”

Izrala took his hand and shook it firmly, turning a deep crimson. “Hello, Joshua,” she mumbled back, “I’m Izrala.”

“Nice to meet you, Izrala. Would like to join me after my shift for Coffee and doughnuts?”

Izrala let out a sigh. “I wish I could, but I have to get back to school when I’m finished laundry.”

“No you don’t!” Joshua leapt from his seat violently, knocking his book to the floor, “Please, stay and have coffee with me!”

“Well... if it means that much to you. When do you get off anyway?” Izrala could not believe that she was agreeing to miss the bus and strand herself in the unknown city for a boy she had just met.

“Another half hour. And it does.” He smiled coyly, “I don’t usually believe in love at first sight, but an angel just changed my mind.”

Izrala cringed. The word angel reminded her of Yumi and her love, shot dead by the revealing of a long-kept secret. How long could a man love an angel? Apparently never: men only loved imitations. Joshua, sensing her discomfort, went back to reading his novel, looking up now and then to smile at her with puppy dog eyes. She found herself falling for him, one smile at a time, despite her best effort to remain objective. He was, after all, a stranger, albeit a cute and attractive one, and he had done nothing to earn her trust.

Doomed Planet will soon be back on line!

2005-04-10T20:41:00.000-08:00

That's right, folks! I have finally discovered the lost manusript, hidden deep withing the bowels of my laundry pile! All I must do now is translate the lost text and soon, the story can start again! Look for another post coming sometime tuesday!

Doomed Planet- Chapter one- part two

2004-11-09T15:48:00.000-08:00

Not only was he late for his vacation, he’d nearly died, and he hadn’t even left the city yet. This was not a good day. But it could have been worse, he reminded himself as he gazed upon the seemingly endless maze of smoking cars. At least the car is still in one piece. At least HE was still in one piece. He sighed and resumed whacking his head against the dash. This is going to be a looooong weekend, he thought. He had no idea.

A punctuated snap brought him back to awareness. He looked around for the cause of such a strange noise, but he couldn’t see anything that could have possibly made it. He brought his left hand to his forehead in a sign of confusion…and realized that he had somehow managed to pull it free from the duffle bag. He examined it for cuts or bruises, but except for a few teeth indent, his hand was whole. He glared at the offending canvas sack and schemed of a way to obtain his CD’s from within. He poked it with a pen he had procured from some mysterious place (most likely the ash tray) to see if the zipper would snap shut, but the metal teeth were crooked and misplaced and could not shut, with an air of caution he reached toward the bag, grabbed both sides, and pulled until the zipper snapped completely apart. Then he reached into the dark interior and rummaged among the work-out clothes and month-old Ziploc containers until his fingers closed around the smooth plastic disc that was his CD case. “I got them!” he yelled in triumph. He raised his fist in a show of testosterone-filled victory, knocking Madonna’s Sex book down from the overhead storage. It hit him in the back of his head and he fainted onto the grey cotton-weave covered in grease stains.

He woke to the sound of sirens. He had to close his eyes again against the blinking red and white lights that aggravated his pulsating temples. A small groan escaped his lips and he felt the back of his neck. There was some blood, but it didn’t feel too serious, probably just a cut from the sharp edges of the book. He let out another moan, opened his eyes, and tried to sit up. He felt something stopping him and realized that his belly had become wedged between the stereo and the thing in the middle of the car that holds things. He was too groggy to remember its name. He tried to suck in his gut but years of doughnuts and fish and chips had given it a solid disposition. He wriggled around for a while and finally managed to move far enough forward to reach the seat adjuster. The seat mercifully slid back and he was free from his petrol-chemical prison. He struggled into a sitting position, rolled down the window, and emptied the contents of his stomach (two cokes and a rice bowl) onto the pavement below.

Feeling much better, he started his car. The clock read 7:31; He had been out for two hours. A pile of smouldering cars still surrounded him. He looked around for a possible escape route and noticed that there was nothing immediately behind or to the right of him. He put the car in reverse and backed up slowly, then drove forward into the ditch. He glanced ahead, saw that there were no cars ahead, and threw the car into second gear. The car sputtered and stalled. Charlie swore and restarted his little Hyundai, then slowly accelerated over the dry brittle grass. He hit a downhill slope and began to pick up speed. The boy in him grinned with anticipation but he had a gut feeling that couldn’t be contributed to afternoon lunch. And not a good feeling either. He pressed on the brakes and the brake fluid light came on. He let out a sting of profanities to make a sailor blush and cursed himself for not having the car inspected last week like he was supposed to. He held tight to wheel, sweat soaking through his shirt and dripping into his eyes.

A rabbit jumped in front of the car and Charlie felt the vehicle rise off the ground as the front tire hit the long-eared rodent. For a few moments the Audi was airborne, then it fell to earth with a sickening crunch. Charlie let go of the wheel and the car began to careen wildly across the ditch like a rabid deer. He grabbed hold of the steering wheel and brought the car back under control and tensed his body for the sharp uphill climb in front of him. The car began to lose speed, and soon Charlie had to press on the gas to keep the car moving forward. He could see lights, red and white, cresting the hill like a halo, but until he came to the top, he couldn’t figure out where they were coming from. He came to the top of the hill, sighed in relief…. and was struck by a speeding ambulance.

His whole body was lifted from the seat and thrown forward into the windshield. In his last conscious seconds he could only concentrate with shock and regret on the fact that he had forgotten to buckle his seatbelt.

Doomed Planet- Chapter one part one

2004-11-09T09:33:00.000-08:00

Chapter one- accidents happen, but sometimes they’re preventable

Ah, yes, the sad life of Homo sapiens, doomed to spend their whole lives living for one moment. It is, perhaps, their greatest weakness. Many of the humans who do not die of old age die because they are rushing off from one point to another so they can arrive and wait before rushing off again. They are a lot like ants in this respect. It is this curious oddity that differentiates humans from the other intelligent ape species.

Charlie swore and pushed hard on the brake as the little Audi in front of him hit an oil slick and lost control, swerving through all six lanes of traffic. That punk kid damn near killed me he internalized while bringing his own car back under control. He turned on the radio, hoping music would calm his nerves, but My Heart Will Go On blasted through his stereo, causing him more distress than his near death experience. He pressed franticly at the dash, hoping some miracle would guide his fingers to a button of silence. No such luck. As the traffic around him slowed to near-standstill, Charlie reached across the seat to his duffle bag, wrestled with the ornery zipper until he could slip his hand inside, and felt around for his CD holder filled with 80’s hair rock. Jo had forbidden them anywhere near the house, so he listened to them only when he drove or sat in the gym, willing himself to lose weight.

The traffic began to speed up again and Charlie tried to pull his hand free of the canvas bag, but the zipper had started to close on its own accord. His hand was trapped in the confines of the bag and there was nothing he could do to free it. A feeling of dread crept up his spine as the cars sped around him at breakneck speeds. Charlie was struck by sudden remorse. If only he hadn’t been in such a rush! But he was trapped in this rampaging hoard of steel and rubber, and no amount of wishing could get him out. His only hope was to pay attention to the road and pray to the benevolent Gods for his life.

His little four door standard groaned and shook as it picked up speed. Charlie rode the clutch for all he was worth, growing ever more panicked at his predicament. Then, just as it seemed his car would shake apart, the traffic started to slow. All around him Charlie could hear squealing brakes and the awful crunch of metal on metal. If robots had sex, Charlie was pretty sure it would sound something like this. He closed his eyes and braced himself for impact.

Silence, and then, off in the distance, sirens. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was all over. He undid his seatbelt and pulled the duffle bag onto his lap, determined to free his hand from the zipper of ultimate evil. He pulled as hard as he could, but the teeth were caught on an old (unused) gym sock and wouldn’t budge. He tried bashing the whole bag against the steering wheel. That only made the teeth close tighter around his hand. Charlie swore that there was blood leaking from his fingers from the zipper bite. All out of ideas, Charlie was content to bash his head repeatedly against the designer leather steering wheel in fustration.

day 2 - end of prologue

2004-11-03T20:25:00.000-08:00

He finally reached the elevator doors, gruesome yellow things that resembled Vincent Van Gough’s “The Sunflowers” on acid. Abby was waiting there, as always, with a smile plastered across her face. She greeted Charlie cheerfully, but he just grunted in reply and then stared at the cracks in the floor. He usually didn’t mind her over the top attitude, but the events of the day had already used up his supply of patience. The elevator arrived and they both shuffled on, eyes averted as to avoid eye contact.

The rest of Charlie’s work day was equally mundane. Only the thought of his upcoming weekend kept him from jumping through a window or something equally as crazy. Time slowed, every second until freedom proportionally longer than the last. There were a few moment of spontaneity to dispel the humdrum, but even the antics of his younger coworkers could not cure Charlie of his impatience. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, the clock struck five and Charlie was free to leave. He grabbed his coat, ran down the stairs, and hopped into his car. He went start it and realized that he had given the keys to Paul. Finally, after much hustle and bustle, Charlie secured his keys from the elderly man and sprinted back to his car. His ignorance had already cost him fifteen precious minutes of time. He rammed the key into the ignition, slipped the car into drive, and burned rubber all the way out of the garage.

Doomed Planet- Day 0ne- Prologue

2004-11-03T19:38:00.000-08:00

Prologue: Wherein the history of everything is revealed

There are few events in the life of a human being that can truly be seen as defining moments. Most Homo sapiens stumble along blindly until they run face first into adversity, and even then most will not open their eyes to see what is causing them pain. They pray to their various gods, or blame them, or curse fate, and then run into the wall again. There is a reason sane creatures of the universe avoid earth like the plague: The only “intelligent” species to inhabit land is collectively mad.

It was to no surprise, then, that earth was chosen as a “portal planet”, a gateway to the strange worlds and universes that existed beyond the physical boundaries of space and time. Not only would they be protected from the curiosity of the greater races (for who in their right mind would want to visit earth?) but if, by some strange coincidence, they were discovered by the bi-pedal half-ape that controlled the planet, nothing would happen. Humans were notorious for locking up or even killing those who knew truths beyond the common understanding.

Not that any of this mattered to Charlie Smith, a man who thought doughnuts were a food group and Tim Horton was a god. His primary goal for the moment was drinking his double-double without getting in an accident. And this was no easy task, especially for a man whose stomach rested on the steering wheel at red lights and whose head often blinded other drivers as it sparkled in the intense august sun. He looked like he felt: old, fat, and balding, though how anyone could feel bald was still a mystery to him. He pondered that thought while waiting in traffic, the noxious fumes of Toronto rising around him like a noxious blanket of cancerous gasses.

The city, like most urban centres, was not a horrible place to live as long as you were rich or artistic. For a middle class corporate drone like Charlie, however, who possessed neither money nor creativity, the city was simply a place to park his derriere until the weekend, when he could leave and go to his quaint little cottage on the lake to kill things with pointy sticks or projectile weapons. He was one of the lucky few who could escape; his roommate, Jo, ran a summer program for mentally unstable youth at the Y and didn’t get any vacation time until September. She had tried to rope him into helping out, but her constant insistence that stab wounds really didn’t hurt that much did nothing to convince him. There was very little that could keep Charlie Smith in the city between 5:00 pm on Friday and 2:00 pm on Sunday. It was his only chance to pretend that he had made something of himself, to lie to the universe (and his neighbours) about his status in life.

“Shit!” he swore suddenly as the car in front of him came to a sudden stop. He pressed hard on the brakes, and the sudden change of velocity sent sugar-and-cream-laced coffee spilling down the front of his off white shirt and onto his forest-green khakis. He grabbed a napkin and tried, in vain, to remove the caffeinated brew from his personage. Charlie succeeded only in grinding thousands of tiny chocolate doughnut crumbs into his outfit, and for a moment he wondered if it would be any more embarrassing to show up to work naked. He quickly dismissed the idea as mundanely ridiculous. Everyone at work had already seen him in the nude and he was pretty sure that none of them had the desire to do it again. At least that was the impression he had received by their gagging and fainting. He was surprised that they hadn’t fired him after that little “incident”, but corporate drones were a dying breed, the younger generation opting instead to work for themselves (not surprising, considering the diet of individualism they’d been media fed their whole lives). Besides, a lot of things had happened that evening, and Charlie was pretty sure his full Monty escapade had been tame compared to the actions of some of his coworkers.

He sighed internally as the office where he worked rose out of the horizon like a Godzilla of steel and concrete. He hated the ugliness that came with the shear size of the place; he was pretty sure that the thing could have been shaped like a hot female celebrity and still been ugly. “Morning Paul,” he called in greeting to the old Pakistani parking attendant while handing him the keys to his Hyundai Accent. The old man said nothing, only glancing at Charlie long enough to find the keys. A stranger would have found the behaviour rude, but to Charlie it was simply ritual. Indeed, if the old man had said something, Charlie would have probably gone into shock.
Dragging his feet along the cement floor, Charlie slowly headed for the elevator, his waistline jiggling like possessed Jell-O. He paused briefly as he passed the stairs, his inner dialogue caught in a timeless battle between duty and sloth. Sloth won, like always, but Charlie swore that he had walked by even slower than usual; somehow proving that duty would win out one day.

Doomed Planet- My totally awesome NaNoWriMo novel

2004-10-21T14:58:00.001-08:00

Charlie Smith has an average life until he forgets to buckle up one day and gets into an accident. Instead of flying through the windshield and dying, he is transported into the strangest and most bizzare place in the universe: Hell (his windsheild was really a portal). But his story doesn't end there. Charlie, and his new fuzzy pink demon-bear friend Bo, go on a search across Hell for Satan in an attempt to get Charlie back to this world. Charlie makes it backin the end, but at a terrible cost- he is responsible for realeasing the bizzare creatures of hell on an unsuspecting earth. Comic hilaririty ensues as Charlie, and his friend Mason, go across country with his room mate's transforming newt in hopes of rescuing her from the clutches of Satan. Trust me, this is going to be freaking awesome.