Female age 40. Smoker. I do not drink or use drugs.
-I have access to all of my blood work and can promptly answer any questions you may have.
Past Medical Hx Past Medical History:
. Anxiety - no meds
. Arrhythmia- PSVT - atenolol 2x per day
. FH: migraines - no meds
. History of palpitations-Controlled with Atenolol
. Incomplete abortion (multiple)
. Morbid obesity (HC)
. OSA on CPAP
. Panic attacks - no meds
. PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) - metformin
. Vitamin B 12 deficiency - biweekly injections
. Vitamin D 3 deficiency - daily D3 pill
. GERD - daily proton pump inhibitor
. Superficial blood clot in 2021 - no treatment was needed
. Dust mite allergy - daily allergy pill and nose spray
. Vertebral segmental dysfunction diagnosis with an X-ray at the chiropractor. I get small, low impact adjustments.
. 40mg prednisone. Was on 60mg but needed to drop down due to heart rate in the 140s
https://imgur.com/a/sxyWdIl
https://imgur.com/a/Q1mxEsa
https://imgur.com/a/OfY0BEJ
https://imgur.com/a/uW2z2ek
https://imgur.com/a/vO4JSAV
https://imgur.com/a/tVvqHUZ
Dear doctors of Reddit, I need you. My medical team is struggling to diagnose me. I need ideas to bring to the table, because apparently whatever I have is not very common. I am located in Minnesota and will absolutely take a recommendation on a professional to see.
Over the past few weeks I have seen 8 or 9 different doctors between the emergency room, my GP, a OBGYN, breast specialist, nurses, a PA and a dermatologist, I even saw a hematologist due to unusual blood work. No one knows what is wrong with me, how to diagnose me or how to treat me. But they all agree something is very wrong. Originally they thought Lupus and then the ER said vasculitis. When I saw my GP on Friday he asked me what I had found on google and started taking notes. I’m shit terrified.
Last year when things were bad…. but not even close to this bad I was cleaned by endocrinology. This year I was cleared by allergy. I also have a clean MRI/CT scan of my head.
My baseline of health never feels awesome. I’ve always been someone who felt “sickly” and run down. But I deal with it and don’t complain. When I have these “episodes”. Some symptoms are short lived and less bothersome than others. Unfortunately everything seems to be happening at once and I can’t function.
I am currently on 40mg of prednisone to try to control some of this while we look for answers.
-My breasts are turning purple. Blood vessels are bursting and I experience swelling and pain with this.
-vulva swelling with distended veins.
-I have problems with spikes in blood pressure and heart rate that can’t be explained and I was often told it is anxiety. It comes with a burning feeling in my chest and back. It is usually self limiting to hours and they don’t have a known trigger.
-my hands swell and turn red and purple if I get too warm or too upset.
-I don’t sweat anymore. Being hot makes me feel very sick and my face turns bright red. My skin feels like it is burning. It takes multiple ice packs and hours in front of an air conditioner to cool down to a regular temperature.
-I get stretches of unexplained chest pains. Sometimes I will feel like inside of my chest itches. Sometimes it will feel hard to breathe.
-I get stretches of unexplainable abdominal pains. Sometimes hours and sometimes weeks. I sometimes feel like the pain is generalized to a specific area like around my spleen or around my stomach. It will hurt worse if I touch the area. Sometimes it is full abdomen pain. During my last uppelower I was told there was unexplained esophagus inflammation. I have had episodes of delayed gastric emptying with vomiting during these periods.
-I get weird rashes on my arm if I go outside or get too hot. They are small round dots that turn in to open sores. They do not hurt or itch. They heal as white or purple marks. They just started last year.
-I get swelling in the left half of my face and have very limited sensation in the left cheek. With this I get what I am guessing is swelling in my tongue that causes deviation. The tongue deviation being linked to swelling is just a guess and my personal guess. Doctors have no clue(I was originally told this was anxiety)
-I get what feels like swelling in my inner ears. I feel and hear crunching and popping. Soon this pressure builds and I get feelings of being lightheaded, dizzy, smelling burning, vision changes, and cognitive decline.
-I get pain and stiffness in my neck, wrists, fingers and toes. I have numbness and tingling in my left arm with limited sensation and what feels like limited strength.
-I get lesions on the sides and back of my tongue and what feels like bumpy rashes on the roof of my mouth. This was something I noticed right before the tongue deviation started.

With tomorrow's ban announcement and the new 3 year rotation cadence for Standard, I thought this would be a good time to revisit the current contents of Standard and remember some cards that you may have forgotten about.
I went over every single uncommon, rare, and mythic currently legal in Standard from before MOM and picked out a bunch that are not being played widely in any of the major competitive 1v1 formats despite seeming pretty strong.
Entire archetypes that used to exist in Standard recently but fell out of the meta, leaving cards that are now barely played in any 1v1 competitive format:

• Mono-green stompy: Ascendant Packleader; Augur of Autumn; Avabruck Caretaker; Briarbridge Tracker; Glorious Sunrise; Silverback Elder; Tovolar's Huntmaster; Ulvenwald Oddity; Unnatural Growth; Wrenn and Seven
• Jund reanimator: Old Rutstein; Riveteers Charm; Skyfisher Spider; Soul of Windgrace; Tear Asunder; Titan of Industry; Workshop Warchief; Unleash the Inferno
• Rakdos artifact sacrifice: Braids, Arisen Nightmare; Dragonspark Reactor; Florian, Voldaren Scion; Mishra's Research Desk; Reinforced Ronin; Weatherlight Compleated
• 5-color enchantments: The Kami War; Spirit-Sister's Call
• Boros/Naya reanimator: Invoke Justice; Fleetfoot Dancer; One With the Multiverse; Repair and Recharge
• Boros aggro: Rem Karolus, Stalwart Slayer; Sunrise Cavalier; Angelfire Ignition
• Mono-red powerstones: Horned Stoneseeker; The Mightstone and Weakstone; Skitterbeam Battalion; Thran Spider; Visions of Phyrexia

How about these decks that were on the edge of breaking into the Standard meta, but never quite made it?

• Bant graveyard control: The Celestus; Colossal Skyturtle; Devious Cover-Up; Joint Exploration; Kairi, the Swirling Sky; Rootcoil Creeper; Shigeki, Jukai Visionary; Sphinx of Clear Skies; Tamiyo, Compleated Sage; Witness the Future
• Azorius Mindsplice control: Mindsplice Apparatus; Silver Scrutiny; White Sun's Twilight
• Esper control: Obscura Interceptor; Siphon Insight; Tainted Indulgence; Void Rend
• Mono-green artifacts: Teething Wurmlet; Rootwire Amalgam; Simian Simulacrum
• Werewolves
• Zombies
• Ninjas
• Modified
• That one Zur, Eternal Schemer deck that made 6/6 deathtouch lifelink hexproof Leyline Bindings for about two weeks after the CGB video

There are a lot of cards that used to be played in archetypes still in Standard, but have been edged out by newer printings or meta shifts:

• Grixis midrange: Concealing Curtains; Evelyn, the Covetous; Maesteos Charm; Sol'Kanar, the Tainted
• Orzhov midrange: By Invitation Only; Edgar, Charmed Groom; Fell Stinger; Henrika Domnathi; Liesa, Forgotten Archangel; Morbid Opportunist; Phyrexian Missionary; Rite of Oblivion; Tocasia's Welcome; Welcoming Vampire
• Mono-white aggro: Intrepid Adversary; Sungold Sentinel
• Mono-red aggro: Cemetery Gatekeeper; Radha's Firebrand
• Jeskai control: Galvanic Iteration; Hinata, Dawn-Crowned; Invoke Calamity; Lier, Disciple of the Drowned; Smoldering Egg; Temporal Firestorm; Wandering Mind
• Naya tokens: Jinnie Fay, Jetmir's Second; King Darian XLVIII; Queen Allenal of Ruadach; Stimulus Package

Some cards in this rotation were part of some combo deck that briefly popped up in one competitive 1v1 format or another and then fizzled out of that format's meta:

• Awaken the Woods; Brilliant Restoration; Chaotic Transformation; Cultivator Colossus; Devilish Valet; Dollhouse of Horrors; Fight Rigging; Gwenna, Eyes of Gaea; Lizard Blades; Mindlink Mech; Mirran Safehouse; Shadow of Mortality; Splendid Reclamation; Urabrask, Heretic Praetor; Vivien on the Hunt

Do you remember these entire cycles of pretty strong cards that have mostly been forgotten about?

• The VOW Cemetery cycle
• The NEO Invoke cycle, except Invoke Despair
• The SNC charms cycle
• The SNC color hoser cycle
• The DMU Defiler cycle
• The BRO Command cycle, except Gix's Command
• Both halves of the BRO meld cycle
• The ONE Dominus cycle, except Mondrak

How about these cards that got a ton of hype during preview season, then fizzled in the 1v1 competitive metas in practice?

• Academy Loremaster; A Little Chat; Arcane Bombardment; Arcane Proxy; Bootlegger's Stash; Brokers Ascendancy; Capricious Hellraiser; Evangel of Synthesis; Hamlet Vanguard; Ichormoon Gauntlet; In the Trenches; Faithbound Judge; Jaya, Firey Negotiator; Jin-Gitaxias, Progress Tyrant; Keldon Flamesage; Kotose, the Silent Spider; Manaform Hellkite; Mercurial Spelldancer; Mirror Box; Moonveil Regent; Overcharged Amalgam; Platoon Dispenser; Poppet Stitcher; Queen Kayla bin-Kroog; Sigarda's Splendor; Surgehacker Mech; Teferi, Temporal Pilgrim; Torrens, Fist of the Angels; Vindictive Flamestoker

There are plenty more I have left off from here too, so don't take these lists as exhaustive.

Prices are firm, but I take off $.75 for every $10 spent (multiple items)
I accept PayPal, Venmo, & Cashapp
Codes are always split/dual portion where applicable, & have no DMI
Only redeem portion you pay for
New additions
14 Blades HD/VU $4.5
22 Jump Street HD/MA $3.5
3 Extremes HD/VU $4.5
355 HD/MA $4.5
48 Hrs 4K/VU $6
50/50 HD/VU $4
600 Miles HD/VU $4
80 for Brady HD/VU $7
A Dog's Purpose HD/IT $3
A Good Day to Die Hard (Ext) HD/VU $2.5
A Journal for Jordan HD/MA $5
A Man Called Otto HD/MA $6.5 or SD/MA $3.5
A24 5-Film Set (X, Green Room, It Comes at Night, Hereditary, Witch) HD/VU $15
Addams Family (2019) 4K/IT $4.5
Addams Family 2 4K/IT $5
Addams Family w/ More Mamushka! 4K/VU $5.5
After Yang HD/VU $4.5
Age of Adeline HD/VU or IT $3
Agent Game 4K/VU $5
Air Force One 4K/MA $6
Alien 6-Film Collection HD/MA $18
Alien Resurrection HD/MA $4
Allied HD/VU $3.5
American Carnage 4K/VU $5
American Gangster (Ext) HD/MA $4
American History X HD/MA $4.5
American Underdog HD/VU $4.5
Amores Perros 4K/VU $5.5
Amsterdam HD/GP $3.5
Anatomy of a Murder 4K/MA $5
Annie (1982) 4K/MA $5.5
Another Cinderella Story HD/MA $3.5
Ant-Man & Wasp Quantumania 4K/MA $10.50 or HD/MA $9
Apocalypse Now (Final Cut) 4K/VU $5
Apocalypse Now 3-Cut Set (Thea, Redux, Final) 4K/VU $8.5
Aqua Teen Forever Plantasm HD/MA $5
Armageddon Time HD/MA $6.5
Army of One HD/VU $3
Art of Self-Defense HD/MA $4
Ash vs Evil Dead Complete Series HD/VU $15
Assignment HD/VU $4
Baby Driver HD/MA $4
Babylon 4K/VU $7 or HD/VU $5.5
Back to Future 3 HD/MA $3.5
Bambi 2 HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Banshees of Inisherin
Banshees of Inisherin HD/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $4
Barb & Star go to Vista Del Mar HD/VU $4
Batman & Superman Battle of Super Sons HD/MA $6
Battle Royale HD/VU $4.5
Beast HD/MA $5.5
Bedknobs & Broomsticks HD/GP $3.5
Before I Go to Sleep HD/MA $3.5
Beirut HD/MA $3.5
Belly 4K/VU $5.5
Ben is Back 4K/VU $5.5
Best F(r)iends Vol 1 HD/VU $4.5
Best F(r)iends Vol 2 HD/VU $4.5
Best of Enemies HD/IT $3.5
Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk HD/MA $4
Birdman HD/MA $4
Black Adam HD/MA $5
Black Panther Wakanda Forever HD/GP $3.5
Black Swan SD/IT $1.5
Blacklight HD/MA $4
Blair Witch (2016) HD/IT $2.5
Blazing Saddles HD/MA $4.5
Blindspotting 4K/VU $5.5
Blood Money (2017) HD/VU $3.5
Bloodshot HD/MA $4
Bloodwork HD/MA $4
Blues Brothers HD/MA $4
Bodyguard (1992) HD/MA $4.5
Boogie 4K/MA $6.5
Boss Baby 2-Film Set HD/MA $6
Braveheart HD/VU $3.5
Breakfast Club HD/IT $4
Breakthrough HD/MA $3
Brian Banks HD/MA $3
Bride of Frankenstein (1935) HD/MA $3.5
Bridesmaids SD/IT $1.5
Bridget Jones's Diary HD/VU $4.5
Bullet Train HD/MA $5
Burnt HD/VU $3.5
Campaign HD/MA $2.5
Captive State HD/MA $4.5
Casablanca 4K/MA $6
Casino HD/MA $4
Catch Me If You Can HD/VU $4.5
Cats HD/MA $4
Cecil B. Demented HD/VU $4.5
Champions HD/MA $6.5
Charlie Brown 4-Film Set HD/VU $15
Christmas Classics Set (Home Alone, Jingle All Way, Miracle on 34th Street '94, A Christmas Carol '84) HD/MA $18
Cinderella (2021) HD/MA $5
Clerks 3 4K/VU $5
Clifford Big Red Dog HD/VU $4
Clint Eastwood A Cinematic Legacy HD/MA $3.5
Colony 4K/VU $5
Coming to America 4K/VU $5
Cotton Club Encore 4K/VU $5.5
Crawl HD/VU $3
Creed 3 HD/VU $10
Criminal HD/VU $3.5
Cube HD/VU $5
Damsel HD/VU $4.5
Dangerous 4K/VU $4.5
Dark Crystal 4K/MA $6
Darkest Minds HD/MA $4
DC League of Super-Pets HD/MA $5
Death of Me HD/VU $4
Death on Nile HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Deepwater Horizon 4K/IT $3
Defiance HD/VU $4
Despicable Me 3 4K/MA or IT $5
Devil's Due HD/MA $3.5
Devotion HD/VU $6.5
Die in a Gunfight 4K/VU $5
Dig 4K/VU $6
Doctor Strange Multiverse of Madness HD/GP $3.5
Dolittle 4K/MA $5
Don Verdean HD/VU $4.5
Downton Abbey A New Era HD/MA $4.5
Dracula (1931) HD/MA $3.5
Dream a Little Dream HD/VU $4
Duck Dynasty Wedding Special HD/VU $4
Duel (2016) HD/VU $3.5
Earth Girls are Easy HD/VU $4
Elvis HD/MA $4.5
Emoji Movie HD/MA $3
Empire of Light HD/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $4
Ender's Game HD/VU $2.5
Equalizer HD/MA $3
Escape Field 4K/VU $5.5
Escape from LA 4K/VU $5.5
Event Horizon 4K/VU $5.5
Everything Must Go HD/VU $4
Evil Dead 1 & 2 Bundle 4K/VU $8
Expired 4K/VU $5
F9 Fast Saga (Thea & Ext) 4K/MA $5.5
Fabelmans HD/MA $6.5
Face/Off HD/VU $4.5
Fair Game (Director's Cut) HD/VU $4
Fantastic Beasts Secrets of Dumbledore HD/MA $4.5
Farewell HD/VU $4
Fatherhood HD/MA $4
Favourite HD/MA $4.5
Fear of Rain 4K/VU $5.5
Field of Dreams HD/MA $4
Fifty Shades Freed HD/MA $4
Fighting w/ my Family HD/IT $4
Finding You 4K/VU $5
Flashback HD/VU $4
Forbidden Kingdom HD/VU $4.5
Ford v Ferrari HD/MA $4
Forrest Gump HD/VU $3.5
Fortress Sniper's Eye HD/VU $4
Friends w/ Kids HD/VU $4
From Here to Eternity 4K/MA $5.5
Gentlemen 4K/IT $4.5
Ghost in Shell (1995) 4K/VU $5
Ghost in Shell (2017) 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Ghost In Shell 2.0 HD/VU $4.5
Ghost Team One HD/VU or IT $3.5
Giant 4K/MA $5.5
Glass HD/MA $4
God's Not Dead A Light in Darkness HD/MA $3
Gone Girl HD/MA $4
Good House 4K/VU $6
Grease 4K/IT $5.5
Great Wall HD/MA $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Green Inferno HD/IT $3.5
Green Knight 4K/VU $4.5
Green Lantern Beware My Power HD/MA $4
Greenland 4K/IT $5
Groundhog Day 4K/MA $6
Grumpy Old Men HD/MA $4
Guns Akimbo HD/VU $4.5
Habit 4K/VU $5.5
Halloween (2018) HD/MA $3
Halloween Curse of Michael Myers HD/VU $4
Halloween Ends HD/MA $5.5
Halloween Kills (Ext) 4K/MA $5.5
Happy Death Day HD/MA $4.5
Hard Luck Love Song 4K/VU $5.5
Hate U Give HD/MA $4
Hellbenders HD/VU $4.5
Hellboy Animated Double Feature (Sword of Storms, Blood & Iron) 4K/VU $7.5
Hellraiser Judgment HD/VU $4
Hereditary HD/VU $3.5
Highlander 4K/VU $5.5
Hitman (Uncut) & Hitman 47 Bundle HD/MA $7
Holmes & Watson HD/MA $3.5
Home Again HD/MA $3
Home Alone 2 HD/MA $3.5
Honk for Jesus. Save Your Soul. HD/MA $5
Hotel Transylvania HD/MA $3.5
House Next Door Meet Blacks 2 4K/VU $5.5
House of 1000 Corpses HD/VU $4
House w/ a Clock in Its Walls HD/MA $4
Hulk (2003) HD/MA $4
Humans HD/VU $4.5
Hunt for Red October 4K/VU $5.5
Hurt Locker 4K/VU $5
Hustle & Flow HD/VU $4
I Frankenstein HD/VU or IT $2.5
I Love You Phillip Morris HD/VU $4.5
Ice Age Collision Course HD/MA $3
In Blood HD/MA $4
In Secret (2014) HD/VU $4.5
Incredible Hulk HD/MA $4
Independence Day (1996) 4K/MA $5.5
Indiana Jones & Raiders of Lost Ark HD/VU $4
Infinite HD/VU $4.5
Inglourious Basterds HD/MA $4 or SD/IT $1.5
Inhabitant HD/VU $4.5
Interview w/ Vampire HD/MA $4
Iron Man & Hulk Heroes United HD/GP $3.5
Iron Mask (2019) HD/VU $4.5
Isle of Dogs HD/MA $4
It Happened One Night 4K/MA $5.5
Italian Job 4K/VU $6.5
Jack Reacher Never Go Back HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Jeff Who Lives at Home HD/VU $4
Jobs HD/MA or IT $3.5
Joe Kidd HD/MA or IT $4
Jordan Peele 3-Film Collection (Nope, Us, Get Out) HD/MA $11
Journey to West Conquering Demons HD/VU $3.5
Joy HD/MA $3
Juliet, Naked 4K/VU $5.5
Jungle Book (2016) 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Ju-On Grudge HD/VU $4.5
Jurassic Park 3 HD/VU $3.5
Jurassic World 6-Film Collection (Dominion Thea & Ext) HD/MA $18
Jurassic World Dominion (Thea & Ext) HD/MA $5
Kama Sutra HD/VU $4.5
Kid Who Would Be King 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Kill Zone (2005) HD/VU $4.5
King Richard 4K/MA $5.5
King's Man 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/GP $3.5
Knives Out 4K/VU $5.5
Knock at Cabin HD/MA $8
Knowing 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Knowing/Push Double Feature HD/VU $7.5
Labyrinth HD/MA $4.5
Lady & Tramp HD/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $4
Lair of White Worm HD/VU $4.5
Last Christmas HD/MA $4
Last Duel HD/GP $3.5
Last Flag Flying HD/MA $4
Last Picture Show 4K/MA $5.5
Last Samurai HD/MA $4
Legend of Hercules 4K/IT $3
Let Them All Talk 4K/MA $5.5
Lightyear HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Lilo & Stitch HD/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $4
Limey 4K/VU $5.5
Lion King HD/GP $3
Locked Down 4K/MA $5.5
Lyle Lyle Crocodile HD/MA $5
M3GAN (Thea & Unrated) HD/MA $7.5
Mack & Rita HD/VU $4.5
Mad Max 1-4 Set 4K/VU $18.5
Mad Max 2 Road Warrior 4K/VU $5.5
Mad Men Complete Series HD/VU $35
Magic Mike's Last Dance HD/MA $7
Magnificent Seven 4-Film Set (1960, Return, Guns, Ride) HD/VU $13
Man of Tai Chi HD/VU $4
Man Who Fell To Earth 4K/VU $6
Manchester by Sea HD/IT $3.5
Marksman HD/MA $4
Marlowe HD/MA $7.5
Mask of Zorro 4K/MA $6
Mask of Zorro 4K/MA $6
Mauritanian 4K/IT $5
Maze Runner Death Cure HD/MA $3.5
Maze Runner HD/MA $3.5
Meatballs HD/VU $4
Memory HD/MA $4
Men HD/VU $4.5
Men in Black 3 HD/MA $3
Men in Black HD/MA $4
Menu HD/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $4
Mickey & Minnie 10 Classic Shorts HD/MA $5.5 or HD/GP $5
Mid-Century 4K/VU $5
Midsommar HD/VU $4
Miracle on 34th Street (1947) HD/MA $4
Missing Link HD/MA $4
Missing SD/MA $4
Mission Impossible 3 4K/VU $4.5
Mitchells vs Machines HD/MA $4.5
Mommy HD/VU $4
Monster High Electrified HD/VU or IT $2.5
Moonfall 4K/VU $4.5
Morbius HD/MA $4
Mother's Day HD/IT $2.5
Moving On HD/VU $5.5
Mrs Harris Goes to Paris 4K/MA $6
My Brilliant Friend Season 1 HD/VU $4
My Fair Lady 4K/VU $5.5
Nashville HD/VU $4
Needle in a Timestack 4K/VU $5.5
Night House HD/GP $4
No Sudden Move 4K/MA $6
Nope HD/MA $5.5
Northman HD/MA $4
Oliver! 4K/MA $5
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood HD/MA $3.5
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood HD/MA $4
Paradise Highway 4K/VU $5.5
Paranormal Activity 1-8 Collection HD/VU $22
Paranormal Activity Ghost Dimension (Unrated) HD/VU $4.5
Paul Blart Mall Cop 2 HD/MA $3.5
Paw Patrol Movie HD/VU $4.5
Percy Jackon Lightning Thief SD/IT $1.5
Percy Jackson Sea of Monsters HD/MA $3
Perfectos Desconocidos HD/VU $4
Peter Pan (1953) HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Peter Rabbit HD/MA $3.5
Phantom Thread HD/MA $4
Piano HD/VU $4.5
Pitch Black (Unrated) HD/MA or IT $4
Plane 4K/VU $6.5
Pocahontas 2 Journey to a New World HD/GP $3.5
Pompeii HD/MA $3.5
Pretty in Pink HD/VU $3.5
Prey for Devil 4K/VU $6
Prince of Egypt HD/MA $4.5
Protege HD/VU $4
Proud Mary HD/MA $3.5
Pulp Fiction 4K/VU $5.5
Pulp Fiction 4K/VU $5.5
Push 4K/VU $6
Puss in Boots Last Wish HD/MA $6.5
Queen of Katwe HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Raid Redemption (Thea & Unrated) HD/MA $4.5
Ran (1985) 4K/VU $5.5
Ratatouille 4K/MA $6 or HD/GP $4
Rear Window HD/MA $3.5
RED 2 HD/VU or IT $2
Red Heat 4K/VU $5
Redline HD/VU $4.5
Reign of Assassins HD/VU $4.5
Repo Genetic Opera HD/VU $4.5
Rescuers Down Under HD/MA $5 or HD/GP $4.5
Rescuers HD/MA $5 or HD/GP $4.5
Reservoir Dogs 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Resident Evil Retribution 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Retaliation (2017) HD/VU $4
Ride Like a Girl HD/VU $4
Right One 4K/VU $5.5
Ring HD/VU $4.5
Rio 2 HD/MA $3
Rio SD/IT $1.5
Rocky Knockout Collection 1-4 (Rocky IV w/ Thea & Rocky vs Drago Ultimate Cut) 4K/VU $20
Rules of Attraction HD/VU $4
Rumble HD/VU $5
Running Man 4K/VU $5.5
Safe Haven SD/IT $1.5
Saint Maud HD/VU $4.5
Sausage Party HD/MA $3.5
Saw 7-Film Collection (Unrated) HD/VU $18
Saw 8-Film Collection HD/VU $20
Scott Pilgrim vs World 4K/MA $5.5
Scream 4 HD/VU $4
Scream HD/VU $4.5
Secret Garden (2020) 4K/IT $5
Secret in Their Eyes HD/VU or IT $3
Sense & Sensibility 4K/MA $5
Sex & City 2 SD/IT $1.5
Sex Tape HD/MA $3.5
Shaun of Dead HD/MA $4 or 4K/IT $4.5
Shawshank Redemption 4K/MA $5.5
Shazam! Fury of Gods HD/MA $10
She Said HD/MA $6.5
Shooter 4K/VU $5
Show Dogs HD/MA $3.5
Siberia (2018) HD/VU $3
Silent Night, Deadly Night 3-Film Set (3-5) HD/VU $8
Silent Twins 4K/MA $6
Silk Road 4K/VU $5
Sing 2 HD/MA $4
Sing Street HD/VU $4
Sixteen Candles HD/MA $4
Skeleton Twins HD/VU $4.5
Smile HD/VU $5.5
Smokey & Bandit HD/MA $3.5
Smokin' Aces 4K/MA $5.5
Smurfs Lost Village HD/MA $3.5
Snake Eyes G.I. Joe Origins 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Snatch 4K/MA $5.5
Social Network 4K/MA $5.5
Son of God HD/MA $3
Source Code 4K/VU $5.5
Spartacus HD/MA $3.5
Spider-Man Into Spider-Verse 4K/MA $5.5
Spider-Man No Way Home HD/MA $4
Spinning Man HD/VU $4
Spirit HD/VU $4
Spontaneous HD/VU $4.5
Starship Troopers 4K/MA $6
Sting 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Strange World HD/GP $4
Strangers Prey at Night HD/MA $3
Stripes 4K/MA $5
Sudden Death HD/IT $4
Taken 2 HD/MA $3.5
Tangled HD/MA $4
Tar HD/MA $6
Taxi Driver HD/MA $4
Teen Spirit (2019) HD/MA $4
Teen Titans Go! & DC Super Hero Girls Mayhem Multiverse HD/MA $6
Teeth HD/VU $4.5
Ten Commandments (1923) HD/VU $4
Ten Commandments (1956) HD/VU $4
Tetro HD/VU $4
Thanks for Sharing HD/VU $4
The Batman HD/MA $4
This is End HD/MA $3.5
This Means War SD/IT $1.5
Thor Love & Thunder 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/GP $3.5
Till 4K/IT $7
Time Freak HD/VU $4
To Kill a Mockingbird 4K/IT $4
To Sir w/ Love 4K/MA $5.5
Tomb Raider Cradle of Life 4K/VU or IT $5.5
Top Gun Maverick 4K/VU $6 or HD/VU $4.5
Touched w/ Fire HD/VU $4.5
Town SD/IT $1.5
Trading Places HD/VU $4
Transformers 4K/VU $5
Transformers Age of Extinction HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Transformers Dark of Moon 4K/VU $4.5
Transformers Revenge of Fallen 4K/VU $5
Triple 9 HD/IT $3.5
Troy (Director's Cut) HD/MA $4.5
True Grit SD/IT $1.5
Tucker Man & His Dream 4K/VU $5
Turning Red HD/GP $3
Twilight 1-3 (Ext) HD/VU $10
Twilight Breaking Dawn Pt 1 HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Twilight HD/VU $4
Umma HD/MA $4.5
Uncharted HD/MA $4
Uncut Gems HD/VU $4
Under Skin HD/VU $3.5
Underwater HD/MA $4.5
Underworld 5-Film Set HD/MA $17
Venom Let There Be Carnage HD/MA $4
Virtuoso 4K/VU $5
Vivo HD/MA $5
Voyagars 4K/VU $5
W. HD/VU $4
Wall Street Money Never Sleeps SD/IT $1.5
War of Worlds 4K/VU $5.5
War on Everyone HD/VU $4
Warhunt 4K/VU $4.5
Waterworld HD/MA $4
Wayne's World 4K/VU $5.5
Weekend HD/VU $4
What We Did on our Holiday HD/VU $4
Where Crawdads Sing HD/MA $4.5
Whitney Houston I Wanna Dance w/ Sombody HD/MA $5.5 or SD/MA $3
Wicker Man (1973) HD/VU $4.5
Winnie Pooh Springtime w/ Roo HD/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $4
Wolf Man (1941) HD/MA $3.5
Woman King HD/MA $5.5
Women Talking 4K/IT $7
X-Men Days of Future Past Rogue Cut 4K/IT $5.5
X-Men First Class & Days of Future Past HD/MA $6.5
X-Men Trilogy (X-Men, X2, Last Stand) HD/MA $12
Zero Dark Thirty HD/MA $3.5
All other movies (A-Z)
101 Dalmatians HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
12 Years a Slave HD/MA $3.5
13 Hours Soldiers of Benghazi HD/VU $2.5
1917 HD/MA $3.5
2 Fast 2 Furious 4K/IT $3.5
2 Guns HD/VU or IT $2.5
21 Jump Street HD/MA $3
3 From Hell (Unrated) 4K/VU $4 or HD/VU $2.5
31 HD/VU $2.5
310 to Yuma 4K/VU $5
47 Meters Down HD/IT $3.5
47 Meters Down Uncaged HD/VU $3.5
47 Ronin HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
71 HD/VU $4
A Clockwork Orange 4K/MA $5
A Most Wanted Man HD/VU $3.5
A Quiet Place HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
A Quiet Place Part 2 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
A Wrinkle in Time HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
About Time HD/VU or IT $3.5
Action Point HD/IT $2
Adore HD/IT $3.5
Adventures Of TinTin HD/VU or IT $2.5
After Earth HD/MA $3
Aladdin (2019) 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Alex Cross HD/VU or IT $2
Alfred Hitchcock 5-Film Set Vol 2 4K/MA $24
Alice Through Looking Glass HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Alita Battle Angel 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
All Eyez on Me HD/IT $3
All Money in World HD/MA $3.5
Aloha HD/MA $3.5 or SD/MA $1
Alvin & Chipmunks Road Chip HD/MA $2.5
Amazing Spider-Man 2 HD/MA $4
Amazing Spider-Man HD/MA $3.5 or SD/MA $1.5
America Imagine World w/out Her HD/VU $1.5
American Assassin 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
American Frontier Trilogy (Sicario, Wind River, Hell or High Water) HD/VU $7.5
American Hustle SD/MA $1.5
American Made 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
American Night HD/VU $4
American Reunion HD/VU or IT $3
American Ultra HD/IT $4
Anchorman 2 Legend Continues HD/VU or IT $2.5
Angel Heart 4K/VU $5.5
Angel of Mine 4K/VU $5.5
Anna 4K/VU $5 HD/VU $3.5
Anna Karenina HD/IT $3.5
Annie (2014) HD/MA $3.5 or SD/MA $1.5
Annihilation HD/VU $3
Antebellum 4K/VU $5
Ant-Man & Wasp HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Ant-Man HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Apollo 13 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Arctic HD/MA $4
Arnold Schwarzenegger 6-Film Collection (Last Stand, Total Recall, T-2, Red Heat, Maggie, Hercules in NY) HD/VU $14
Arrival HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Ash vs Evil Dead Season 3 HD/VU $5
Assassination Nation HD/MA $3.5
Assassin's Creed HD/MA $3
Atomic Blonde 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA$3
August Osage County HD/VU $3
Avengers Age of Ultron HD/MA $3.5 pr HD/GP $3
Avengers Endgame HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Avengers HD/GP $3
Avengers Infinity War HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Back to Future Trilogy 4K/MA $14 or HD/MA $9.5
Bad Boys for Life HD/MA $4
Bad Grandpa HD/IT $2.5
Bad Words HD/IT $3
Bambi HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Bangkok Dangerous HD/VU $4
Bank Job HD/VU $3.5
Barbie & Her Sisters in Great Puppy Adventure HD/VU or IT $3.5
Barbie in Princess Power HD/IT $3.5
Barbie Star Light Adventure HD/IT $3.5
Battle of Year HD/MA $3.5
Battleship HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Baywatch HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Beatriz at Dinner HD/VU $4.5
Beauty & Beast (1991) HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Beauty & Beast (2017) HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Before I Fall HD/VU or IT $3.5
Begin Again HD/VU $3.5
Ben-Hur (2016) HD/VU or IT $3.5
BFG HD/MA $3.5
Big Eyes HD/VU $3.5
Big Hero 6 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Big Lebowski 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Big Little Lies Season 1 HD/GP $2.5
Big Short HD/VU or IT $3.5
Big Wedding SD/IT $1
Birth of a Nation HD/MA $3.5
Black Panther 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Black Widow HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Blackhat HD/IT $3.5
Blair Witch Project (1999) HD/VU $4
Blockers HD/MA $3.5
Boardwalk Empire Season 1 HD/VU or IT $4
Bombshell 4K/VU $5
Book Club HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Book of Life HD/MA $3.5
Born a Champion 4K/VU $5
Boss Baby HD/MA $2.5
Bourne Identity HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Bourne Legacy HD/VU $2
Bourne Supremacy HD/VU $3.5
Bourne Ultimatum 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Boy 2 HD/IT $3.5
Boy Erased HD/MA $4
Boy HD/IT $3.5
Boyhood HD/VU or IT $2.5
Braven HD/VU $4
Butler HD/VU $3
Butterfly Effect HD/MA $4
Bye Bye Man (Unrated) HD/IT $2.5
Cabin in Woods 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $2.5
Call of Wild 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Captain America Civil War HD/GP $2.5
Captain America First Avenger HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5 or SD/IT $1.5
Captain America Winter Soldier HD/GP $3.5
Captain Marvel HD/GP $2
Captain Phillips HD/MA $3.5 or SD/MA $1.5
Carol HD/VU $4
Cars 3 HD/GP $2.5
Case for Christ HD/IT $2.5
Chaos Walking 4K/VU $5
Chicago HD/VU $4
Children (2008) HD/VU $4
Christopher Robin HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Cloverfield 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Coco HD/GP $2.5
Cold Pursuit 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Collection HD/VU $3.5
Columbiana (Unrated) HD/MA $4
Come & Find Me HD/VU $4
Commuter 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Company of Heroes HD/MA $4
Contraband HD/IT $3
Cooties HD/VU $4
Cornetto Trilogy (Shaun of Dead, Hot Fuzz, World's End) 4K/MA $15
Counselor HD/MA $4
Courier 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Crank 4K/VU $5.5
Crimson Peak HD/IT $3.5
Croods HD/VU $3.5
Cruella HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
D Train 4K/IT $4
Daddy's Home 2 HD/IT $3
Daddy's Home HD/VU $3
Dark Tower HD/MA $3.5
Darkest Hour (2017) 4K/MA $5.5
Darkness HD/IT $3
Dawn of Planet of Apes HD/MA $3.5
Daybreakers 4K/VU $5.5
Deadpool 2 (w/Super Duper Cut) HD/MA $4
Deadpool HD/MA $2.5
Dear White People HD/VU $3.5
Dementia 13 (Director's Cut) HD/VU $4
Descendants SD/IT $1.5
Despicable Me 2 HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Despicable Me 4K/IT $5 or SD/IT $1.5
Detroit HD/MA $3.5
Dilemma HD/VU $3.5 or SD/IT $1.5
Dirty Dancing 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Disney Animated Short Films Collection HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Divergent Allegiant HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Divergent HD/VU $1.5 or 4K/IT $2 or SD/VU $0.5
Divergent Insurgent HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Django Unchained HD/VU $3 or SD/IT $1.5
Do Right Thing 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Doctor Strange HD/GP $2.5
Dom Hemingway HD/MA $3.5
Don't Worry, He Won't Get Far on Foot HD/VU $4
Doom (Unrated) 4K/MA $5.5
Doorman HD/VU $3.5
Doors 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Dora & Lost City of Gold HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Downton Abbey Movie HD/MA $4
Dracula Untold HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Draft Day HD/VU $3.5
Dragged Across Concrete HD/VU $3.5
Dreamkatcher HD/VU $4
Dredd HD/VU $2.5
Duff SD/VU $1.5
Dumbo (2019) HD/GP $3
Dune 4K/MA $5.5
Dying of Light HD/VU $2.5
E.T. Extra Terrestrial 4K/VU or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Edge of Seventeen HD/VU or IT $3
Edge of Tomorrow 4K/MA $5
Edward Scissorhands HD/MA $3.5
El Chicano HD/MA $4
Encanto 4K/MA $4 or 4K/GP $3.5
Enemy at Gates HD/VU $4
Enough Said HD/MA $3.5
Epic HD/MA $3
Escape Plan HD/VU $2
Eternals HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Everest 4K/MA or IT $4.5
Ex Machina HD/VU $3
Exodus Gods & Kings HD/MA $3.5
Expendables 2 HD/VU or IT $1
Expendables 3 (Thea) HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
Extreme Prejudice (1987) HD/VU $4
Fast & Furious (2009) HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Fast & Furious 6 (Ext) HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
Fast & Furious 6-film Collection HD/VU $12.5
Fast & Furious 7-film Collection HD/VU $14
Fast & Furious 8-film Collection (9 Films) HD/MA $17.5
Fast & Furious 9-film Collection (11 Films) HD/MA $20
Fast & Furious HD/VU $3.5
Fast Color 4K/VU $5.5
Fast Five (Ext) HD/IT $2.5 or SD/IT $1
Fatale 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Fate of Furious (Ext) HD/VU $2
Fate of Furious (Thea) HD/VU or IT $1.5
Fault in Our Stars HD/MA $3.5
Fences HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Ferdinand HD/MA $3.5
Fifty Shades Darker (Unrated) HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Fifty Shades of Grey (Unrated) HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Finding Dory HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Finding Nemo HD/GP $3.5
Finest Hours HD/GP $3
First Blood 4K/VU $5
First Man HD/MA $4
Flight HD/VU or IT $3
Florence Foster Jenkins HD/VU or IT $3
Footloose (2011) HD/IT $3
Forever My Girl HD/IT $3
Fortress HD/VU $4
Four Kids & It HD/VU $3.5
Fox & Hound 2 HD/MA $4
Frank & Lola HD/VU or IT $3
Frankenstein (1931) HD/VU $3.5
Free Guy HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
French Dispatch HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Friday 13th Pt 3 HD/VU $3.5
Frozen (Sing-Along Edition) HD/MA $2 or HD/GP $1.5
Frozen 2 4K/MA $4 or HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Frozen Ground HD/VU $3.5
Frozen HD/GP $2
Furious 7 (Ext) HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
Fury HD/MA $3.5
G.I. Joe Retaliation HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Gambit (2012) HD/MA $4
Gambler HD/IT $3
Gambler HD/VU $3
Gemini Man 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Get Out HD/MA $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Ghostbusters (1984) HD/MA $3.5
Ghostbusters 2 HD/MA $3.5
Ghostbusters Afterlife HD/MA $4
Girl on Train HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Girl w/ All Gifts HD/VU $4
Girls Trip HD/VU or IT $2
Glass Castle 4K/VU $5.5
God's Not Dead 2 HD/MA or IT $2.5
Gods of Egypt HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Gold (2016) HD/VU or IT $2.5
Good Dinosaur HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Good Kill HD/VU or IT $3.5
Grace Unplugged HD/VU $2
Greatest Showman HD/MA $3.5
Green Mile 4K/MA $5.5
Grey HD/VU or IT $3
Guardians of Galaxy Vol 1 HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Guardians of Galaxy Vol 2 HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Guest House 4K/VU $5
Guilt Trip HD/IT $3
Gunman HD/MA $3
Hacksaw Ridge HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Hail, Caesar! HD/IT $3
Hammer of Gods HD/VU $2
Hands of Stone HD/VU $3.5
Hannibal Season 1 HD/VU $5
Hansel & Gretel Witch Hunters (Unrated) 4K/IT $4
Hard Target 2 HD/IT $1.5
Hardcore Henry HD/VU or IT $3.5
Hateful Eight HD/VU $3.5
Heat HD/MA $3
Heaven is for Real SD/MA $1.5
Hell Fest 4K/VU $5
Hell or High Water HD/VU $2.5
Hellboy (2019) HD/VU $3 or 4K/VU $4.5
Hercules (1997) HD/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $4
Hercules (2014) HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Here Comes Boom HD/MA $3.5
Hidden Figures HD/MA $3
Hillsong Let Hope Rise HD/IT $2
Hitman's Bodyguard HD/VU $3.5
Hitman's Wife's Bodyguard 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Hocus Pocus HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Home Alone HD/MA $3.5
Homesman HD/VU $3
Honey 2 HD/VU $3
Hop HD/MA or IT $3
Hope Springs HD/MA $2.5 or SD/MA $1
Hostiles HD/VU $3
Hot Fuzz HD/VU $4
Hotel Mumbai HD/MA $4
Hours (2013) HD/VU $4
How Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) 4K/IT $4
How to Train Your Dragon 2 HD/MA $2.5
How to Train Your Dragon HD/VU $3.5
How to Train Your Dragon Trilogy HD/MA $9
Hugo HD/VU or IT $3
Hunger Games 4-Film Collection HD/VU $8
Hunger Games Catching Fire HD/VU $1.5 or 4K/IT $2 or SD/VU $.5
Hunger Games HD/VU $1.5 or 4K/IT $2 or SD/VU $.0.5
Hunger Games Mockingjay Part 1 HD/VU $2.5 or SD/VU $1
Hunter Killer 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Huntsman Winter's War (Ext) HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
I Can Only Imagine HD/VU $4
I Feel Pretty HD/IT $2
Incredibles 2 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Incredibles HD/GP $3.5
Independence Day Resurgence HD/MA $2.5
Indiana Jones & Temple of Doom 4K/VU $5.5
Indignation HD/VU $4
Initiation 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Inside Out HD/GP $2
Instant Family 4K/IT $3.5
Internship SD/IT $1.5
Interstellar HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Into Woods HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Invisible Man (1933) HD/MA $3.5
Invisible Man (2020) 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Iron Man 3 HD/GP $2
Iron Man HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
It Follows HD/VU $3.5
It's a Wonderful Life 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Jack & Jill HD/MA $3.5
Jack Reacher HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $4.5
Jack Ryan Shadow Recruit HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Jacob's Ladder HD/VU $4
Jarhead 3 Siege (Unrated) HD/IT $2.5
Jason Bourne HD/VU $2.5
Jason Statham 4-Film HD/VU $10
Jason Statham 6-Film HD/VU $14
Jaws 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Jersey Boys HD/MA $2.5
Jesus Music HD/VU $3.5
Jigsaw 4K/VU $4.5
Joe HD/VU $3.5
John Wick 1 & 2 Bundle HD/VU $4
John Wick 3 Parabellum 4K/VU $4.5
John Wick Chapter 2 HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
John Wick HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
John Wick Trilogy (Parabellum 4K) HD/VU $9
Jonah Hex HD/MA $4.5
Judy 4K/VU $5
Jungle Cruise HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Jurassic Park 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Jurassic World 5-Film Collection HD/MA $14
Jurassic World Fallen Kingdom 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3
Jurassic World HD/VU $2.5
Justice (2017) HD/VU or IT $3
Justin Bieber Never Say Never SD/IT $1.5
Kevin Hart Let Me Explain HD/VU or IT $3
Kick-Ass 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4 or SD/IT $1.5
Kidnap HD/VU or IT $2.5
Killer Elite HD/IT $3
Killerman HD/VU $4
Kin 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
King Kong (2005) 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Kingsman Golden Circle 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3
Kingsman Secret Service 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang HD/MA $4.5
Knick Season 1 HD/IT $3.5
Knick Season 2 HD/IT or GP $3.5
Kung Fu Panda 3 HD/MA $3
La La Land 4K/IT $3.5
Labor Day HD/VU or IT $3
Lady Macbeth HD/VU $4.5
Last Airbender HD/VU $4.5
Last Exorcism HD/VU $4
Last Knights HD/VU $3.5 or SD/VU $1.5
Last Man (2019) HD/VU $4
Last Stand HD/IT $2
Last Vegas HD/MA $3.5
Last Witch Hunter HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Leatherface HD/VU $4
Leprechaun 7-Film Collection HD/VU $12
Les Miserables (2012) HD/VU or IT $2
Let Me Explain HD/IT $2.5
Let's be Cops HD/MA $3.5
Life (2017) HD/MA $3.5
Life of Crime HD/VU $3.5
Life of Pi 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA or IT $3.5
Light of My Life HD/IT $3.5
Like a Boss HD/VU $3.5
Lilo & Stitch 2 Stitch Has a Glitch HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Lincoln Lawyer 4K/VU $6.5 or HD/VU $4
Lion King (2019) 4K/MA $4 or HD/GP $2
Live by Night HD/MA $3
Logan HD/MA $3
Logan Lucky 4K/MA or IT $4.5
Lone Ranger HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Lone Survivor HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Long Shot HD/VU $3.5
Longest Ride HD/MA $3
Longest Week HD/VU $3.5
Looper HD/MA $3.5
Lorax (1972) HD/MA $5
Lorax HD/VU $3
Lords of Salem HD/VU $4
Lost World Jurassic Park HD/MA $3
Love & Monsters HD/VU $4
Love Coopers HD/VU or IT $4
Love, Simon HD/MA $3.5
Loving HD/VU or IT $3.5
Luca HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Lucy HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Madagascar 3 HD/VU or IT $3
Madea's Witness Protection SD/IT $1.5
Magnificent Seven (2016) HD/VU $3
Maleficent 4K/MA $4 or HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Maleficent Mistress of Evil HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Mama HD/IT $3
Mamma Mia Here We Go Again HD/MA $2.5
Man Who Shot Liberty Vance 4K/VU $5.5
Mandela Long Walk to Freedom HD/VU $4
Martian HD/MA $3.5
Mary Poppins (1964) HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Mary Poppins Returns HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Matrix Resurrections 4K/MA $5.5
Max Steel HD/IT $3
McKenna Shoots for Stars HD/IT $2
Mechanic Resurrection HD/VU $2.5
Megan Leavey HD/IT $3
Midnight Sun HD/MA $3.5
Midway 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Mile 22 HD/IT $3
Million Dollar Arm HD/GP $2.5
MindGamers HD/MA or IT $3.5
Minions 4K/MA or IT $4.5 HD/VU $3
Misconduct HD/VU $2.5
Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children HD/MA $3
Mission Impossible 4 Ghost Protocol HD/VU $2
Mission Impossible 5 Rogue Nation HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Mission Impossible 6 Fallout 4K/VU or IT $4.5
Mission Impossible 6-film Set 4K/VU or IT $23 or HD/VU $17
Moana HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Moneyball HD/MA $3
Monkey Kingdom HD/MA $3
Monsters University HD/GP $3
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Start of Alex Series Start of Teacher Series: Lesson 1 Previous: Meet the Parents: Fated Victory Party Next Royal Road / Class Picture Alex and Freki Artwork /Sub: Random3X (lore and more) Discord
​
July 20th, year 024 Angels Descent
The class, with two of their teachers, were en route to the Ironwoodlands. They had been on the road for a few days as the Ironwoods themselves were at the far west of Greed’s domain, and the gate was more central to the region.
“So, you kids ever been to the Ironwoods?” All but Tasha and Alex shook their heads to indicate no.
“I’ve apparently only been once when I met Elissa’s father… at least that’s what my journal said… memory is still hazy for me… Yuu, you’ve been here a few times, right?”
“Yeah, when master got tired of me making machines that destroyed buildings, he threw me to the elves to ‘play’, as he called it.”
“Any advice? Elissa hasn’t really talked about her home much, so I’m kind of in the dark myself.” The class focused their attention on Yuu, who held her hands to her hips and puffed her chest with pride.
“Of course, young one, I shall educate you as you do your students. After all, I am an expert in interacting with Ironwood Elves!!”
“Yuu… you are like a few hours older than me; I wouldn’t call me young?”
“Silence, young one!”
“So what should we do then? Are there any rules like for courting an Ironwood elf?” Maxwell asked, glancing at Tasha.
“Well, first off, ignore Tasha,” Yuu said bluntly. “Second, a big thing to remember is there are three clans of Ironwood elves. First are the worker folk; they do the everyday stuff. The second is the warrior clans; they are self-explanatory. Finally, there are the outside clans.”
“Outside clans?” Bea repeated.
“Oh, I’m part of that!!!” Tasha said, beaming a smile at everyone.
“They are clans not taught the normal ways of Ironwood elves. This is so they can actually interact with the outside world and not cause a diplomatic incident.”
“Uh… what do you mean?” Daisy asked, only to follow Yuu’s gaze towards Alex.
“Oh yeah… Elissa is part of the Warrior Clan, and the first time I met her, she gave me a friendly little bump to the chest.”
“That sounds cute,” Daisy muttered, thinking of all the times she had seen the pair be so lovey-dovey.
“Cute bit was when he flew through three walls and shattered his spine.”
“WHAT?!!!”
“Yeah, the warrior clan greet people they consider as friends with a full-force punch. It’s why their warriors are weirdly durable and able to endure considerable pain,” Yuu explained, glancing at Tasha, who had learnt such a skill from Elissa herself.
“So first rule, you see any elf with a weapon, flip them off, stick out your tongue and be as rude as possible. The second they think you are a friend, you will suffer for it.”
“My brother has been brought here?” Daisy muttered, feeling a pang of panic about her brother receiving such treatment.
“Oh, don’t worry; Elissa will keep them safe.”
“So, will they treat the Big Chief like a friend?”
“Oh yeah, certainly… this one, however,” Yuu said, gesturing to Alex.
“I’m technically rather hated by the Ironwood elves.”
“Why? Aren’t you marrying their princess?” Daisy asked, shocked.
“Well, need I remind you her brother took an arena full of noble children with high-ranking lords hostage to rescue her? They adore Elissa. I’m just the human bastard who stole her away.”
“To be honest, sir, from what Miss Yuu has told us, why don’t they just kill you?”
“Blunt question Maxwell but a thing to remember Elves live for a very long time. They see me more as a short fling that’ll last a few decades, maybe a century or two. After which, I’ll die, and she’ll move back.”
“And you’re ok with this?”
“Maxwell… a thing you’ll learn when you find the one… you will never care what the world thinks so long as you can be with her,” Alex replied as he looked out the window wistfully.
“We’re almost at the first town,” the carriage driver announced. “I ain’t gonna take you any further.”
“Good, we can get some rest in a real bed,” Kline grumbled.
Stepping out of the carriage, the class came face to face with their first experience of an elf settlement. They had originally had the image of what had always been written about elven homes. Buildings entwined with trees. Great structures as if moulding nature itself.
The image before them was an entirely metallic set-up. Every building was coated in metal plates and had countless spikes. Worse still was the severed monster heads resting on each building's roof.
“Big Chief?”
“You won’t get much rest outside the Ironwoods capital. This region is infested with monsters that attack every night.”
“Why would they settle in a region with monsters?!!!” Kline cried out.
“The majority of their population are warriors. Where else can they get a good fight?” Yuu replied.
“So Miss Elissa had to fight every night since she was a child?” Daisy asked once again, feeling worry begin to bubble up.
“You didn’t?” Tasha asked, looking perplexed. “Everyone around here, regardless of clans, learns how to fight monsters from when we first can walk. Only the warrior clan focuses on it and gets all the fun.”
The class decidedly ignored Tasha’s comment and chose a fortress-looking inn for where they would rest for the evening. Though they weren’t certain how much rest they’d get, especially after seeing the monster head hanging near the entrance. The innkeeper welcomed them with open fists, only to be rebuffed as they had been instructed to do.
“Fine, here’s your keys, you ungrateful pieces of crap!”
Throwing the key at the class, they only barely dodged as they lodged themselves into the wall behind them. A wall they couldn’t help but notice had numerous holes from past throws of the keys.
“Me and Yuu are gonna settle in at the tavern and have a few. You can get some rest,” Alex said as he sat at a table, ignoring the baleful glares pointed in his direction.
“Come get us if you need help,” Yuu added as she ignored an elf actively punching her in the face.
The class settled into a large room with bunkbeds enough for the whole class and their teachers. As they rested, trying to clear away the fatigue of a long journey, the hours began to pass.
“So Tasha… what are your parents like?” Maxwell asked, looking up from his spot on a bottom bunk.
“They are rather boring. Daddy works as a clerk in Hades seat. Mum works as a monster cleaner.”
“Monster cleaner?” Daisy repeated.
“Yeah, the dead bodies of monsters we slay we display on our buildings to show how strong a monster we beat. Well, after a while, they go icky and need cleaning. Mum handles that.”
“So, the really big monster head we saw near the entrance?”
“Yeah, means the guys here must be really strong.”
“I’m starting to wonder what I should fear more, the monsters or the elves,” Bea muttered as she snuggled on Gunter’s chest.
“Not sure what you mean… but I’m sure my family will love Stampy,” Tasha proudly took the small creature out of her travel bag, where it proceeded to munch on a piece of plant she offered it.
“Kwooooon!!!”
“I’m more wondering what they’ll think of me,” Maxwell muttered to himself.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!”
“Sparky… come on, boy, I got some snakkums for you,” Daisy said as she held out a piece of travel jerky for her duck-sized dragon. The small creature poked its head out of her travel pack and snatched the dried meat before retreating.
“He’s been rather scared lately,” Daisy muttered.
“Probably the field of danger here,” Tasha replied as she scratched Stampy’s long neck.
“Danger field?” Kline echoed, looking nervous.
“Can’t you feel it?” Tasha asked, looking confused. “Try to feel the aura.”
Relaxing, the class focused their senses, and that was when the pressure began to rise. They had been able to ignore it so far as it had become more like background noise. It was nowhere near as bad as when their instructors pressured them directly. But it was enough to cause minor discomfort.
“What is that, Tasha?” Bea asked.
“That is, um… it's all the monsters' aura getting spread across the woods.”
“So what we are feeling is…” Kline began before trailing off with a look of horror.
In one of their lectures with Alex, he had taught them you can increase the density of aura in an area by focusing and compacting it, but the problem with that is it reduced the range. Another option was you could increase the number of people releasing aura. Experiencing this pressure from a vague distance meant the numbers must be considerable or very strong. Likely both from what had been described.
“Why in the hell would people live here?!!!”
“Well, the trees were the original reason,” Tasha replied, oblivious to how nervous Kline was starting to become.
“The trees are really big, and iron whatsits grow through them. That’s why they call them ironwood trees. Also, my ancestors liked fighting and making friends, so here they could do both.”
As the class began to ponder who unhinged and crazy Tasha’s people must actually be, the entire inn violently shook. Jumping from their beds, the class immediately went into action mode and rushed down the stairs to find several of the inn’s staff rushing out the front door with weapons.
Looking around, they found their teachers relaxing with drinks, still having a friendly conversation as if they were oblivious to the dangers outside. Running towards the pair, they stood at the ready.
“Oh hey kids, me and Yuu were about to grab a deck of cards. Want to join in a game or two?”
“Sir, the inn is under attack!” Daisy shouted indignantly.
“And?” Alex replied, tilting his head.
“We should help!” Maxwell answered as if stating the obvious.
“Why?” Yuu answered this time. Both teachers looked confused. Ignoring the cries for help and pained screams coming from outside.
“Because, sir, you have the power to help!!!” Daisy shouted.
“And that makes me beholden to them? Daisy, I gained this power to ensure my freedom to do what I wanted. It may seem callous, but just because I have the power to help does not mean I or anyone else are under any obligation to help.”
“Big Chief, please help!!” Gunter pleaded.
“Sorry, but the dork is right. We may have the strength to help resolve many situations, but people do not grow if someone else solves every little thing.”
“Kids… this is a lesson you will need to learn someday… You can’t help everyone, and in reality, you shouldn’t. You will either run yourself ragged or become someone else’s tool. Gain power to ensure freedom. If you kids want to help, you can go and help. But me and Yuu here will be starting a professional game of snap.”
“Fine, we will go out and help them!” Bea shouted indignantly as the class stormed out of the tavern and out into the town.
The sight that greeted them was one of abject chaos. There were already a few collapsed buildings, and they could see people running around in a panic. Down the road from their inn, they could even see the remains of one of the attacking monsters.
It was a giant beast about the size of a two-storey tall building. It was covered in boney plates that, even from how far away they were standing, looked needlessly thick. While its tail looked like a massive boney club, the kind used by giants.
“Earthen Drakes… Armoursauses, if I had to guess,” Maxwell said, looking at the remains.
“What can we do then?” Bea asked as she channelled her energy into bringing out her possession summon.
“We can spread out in teams of two. One enhancer and one projection and focus on the small fry,” Kline suggested as he fired an accurate shot that took the head off a small turkey-sized lizard monster.
“Ok, Kline and Tasha, you go that way. Gunter and Bea, you go to the south. Maxwell, you and me will head east,” Daisy declared. Maxwell hesitated for a moment looking at Tasha before nodding. With their plans decided, the class split up to face the attack.

So I was in Annesburg and I was sitting on my phone not paying attention and the train hit me and it downed my horse and of course I had no horse reviver so I had to panic my last save was in the last chapter so I couldn't reload tried to exit the game and go back in horse was still downed so I rushed over to van horn stable on a stolen horse grabbed a horse reviver barely had enough and rode back and as I'm almost there itbalmost gets hit by a train again and the it just gets up runs like 20 feet and then falls back down again.

Why all the Santanic imagery and symbolism involving the Lucitors?
Seriously, I love the show, but the Christian in me can’t help but notice this.
Between the Underworld being a literal fire and brimstone hell, Tom’s last name being Lucitor, and his mom looking like the typical red-skinned, horned depiction of Satan (not to mention a 666 reference I swear was in an episode), is the show trying to promote Satanism? Or is it all meant to be ironic and funny?
I mean, I love Wraithmelior as a character, but in the back of my mind, I’m thinking…why.

i thought google would have me for this, but i guess pyromania isn't as common as i thought. so... what's the biggest fire you can light in rdr2 story mode outside of missions?
of course there's the beaver hollow cave which is fun because the steepness makes burning items slide downhill, lighting more stuff. but i myself, i have yet to find a place with more flammable, long burning items than the van horn space behind the saloon and the big trash dump when entering from van horn side. found out about the great amount of flammable stuff in van horn pretty much by accident, when i peppered the scenery with flammable buckshot while fighting some residents. that ammo is wild! when firing at flammable stuff from a distance, the wide spray and p much every pellet causing a fire makes for a massive fire in no time. works better to set large areas ablaze than any of the other fire weapons imo.
so yeah, let me know if you know a location for a bigger fire.

Aaah, finally refreshed, thank you sweet gal, I really needed this. So... Where was I ? Ah, yeah, I remember !
So, our merry band had a few clues about their prey : it was tiny, it sucked out the blood of its victims, it was probably cursed and our resident Witcher, Elainne Belleteyn, found an empty tomb while on the trail of the creature. So... It was more than probable a botchling ! I don't know a lot about these pesky buggers myself, I must say. When I asked my sweet friend Elainne about these creatures, she said that they were created from a stillborn children, or abandoned babies in the woods. Apparently, you can... Use some kind of strange elvish ritual to transform them into something called a lubberkin. Unfortunatly, the Witcher didn't knew it. As she said herself :
"Heck, you really think the School of the Cat would go for the harsh and long way when it's easier to kill it ?"
Let's be clear, I do hope she was kidding me, 'cause we would probably have a lot of them roaming around in the Kingdom of the North...
Well, whatever... So, it was prolly a botchling. And everything linked it to Catrina aep Luk, the daughter of the bourgmestre. Fortunately, Morriga aep Proserpa knew the ritual. So they splitted up : Zokir, Zerath and Kite went to meet the bourgmestre daughter, while Morriga and Elainne would hunt down the creature.
The Dwarf, the Human and the Elf went to the house, while the sun was still in the sky. They met with Catrina aep Luk privately, Zerath and Zokir disguising themselves as some kind of ambulant apothecaries and Kite being here to introduce them to the bourgmestre. So... They explained the situation to the young maiden and she... Kinda freaked out that they knew about her failed pregnancy. Apparently, only the doctor, Liam aep Carys, knew about it. She accepted, a bit reluctantly and remained in her bedroom with Zerath while Zokir and Kite went to the garden and prepared a tomb. Cruel irony, it was at the same place where the last victim had been found.
Meanwhile, Elainne and Morriga were about to track the monster when... The Witcher remembered she gave her medaillon to Kite, as some kind of proof if needed during the meeting with Catrina. I can assure you, Witcher can feel shame, for her cheeks were burning RED when she recollected me this tale. So they ran as fast as they could, took the medaillon and went back to the hunt. They found the botchling in a chicken coop, about to climb a window. Elainne used of one of her magic trick to calm down the creature and Morriga took it. They went as fast as possible to the bourgmestre's house... Followed by a bunch of villagers who were morbidly fascinated by the scene, until Morriga asked them "politely" to go off unless they were willing to risk some curses.
And then, Zerath had to lead Catrina to the garden. Let's just say it wasn't easy : her father was trying to get at the front door to understand what was all the agitation he heard outside. Zerath... Well, he told me that he managed to diplomatically prevent him to do so, while his daughter escaped by some back door. And Kite went inside too, but from the front door, closing it behind him.
As for the ritual... Apparently it consists to name the child, accepting them as your. Morriga led the ritual, inside a kind of magical protection set up by Elainne. Zokir was inside the circle too, while the Witcher was outside, blade drawn. Apparently, it can attract some nasty guests, so... She was there to protect, in doubt. The ritual was pretty quick, the botchling... Died ? Apparently ? I mean, Witcher ca kill ghosts, so I guess this is pretty normal. And they buried it, before going away. The only problem was that someone had to wait near the tomb during 24 hours, to make sure it would come back as a lubberkin. And Elainne elected herself to the task. Apparently, the bourgmestre asked her about all this and she handwaved it (probably by threatening him if he was going to disturb her : patience is NOT one of her quality).
The following day was... Long. Elainne was like a wild beast in cage, waiting impatiently. The others went doing... Whatever they were doing, I guess when something happened. So... I have the recollection of the two parties and as far as I know, it began with the Witcher. Apparently the legend was true, but didn't needed the 24 hours long part. A spectral creature rised from the grave and... Apparently gave her a warning about an imminent assault on the village.
So she hid in ambush... And waited again. But she was fine with it, for once. And soon, some peoples climbed the outside wall, apparently some kind of assassins trying to reach the mayor. And they met her instead. An angry and frustrated Witcher wielding her trusty blade coated in hanged's man venom. I will spare you the details, you can thank me lads.
Meanwhile, someone opened a portal outside the walls of the village and it poured out many members of the Blue Rose of Nazair rebels, led by no one else than the Gardener himself ! And it turned out that the whole place was almost depleted of their militia AND members of the Nilfgaardian army ! So... Our brave heroes braced themselves to the fight. Morriga litteraly vaporised many of the assaillants and even forced some to retreat ! Kite flew a true rain of arrows on them and even Zerath, not the one with the most fighting spirit among them, did his fair share. Zokir told me that he fought a veritable army of rebels, fending them off by himself to protect his companions, but I surmise that he was lying to me, especially the part where he sang a serenade to a bystander while doing so.
Apparently, the Gardener was expecting a defensless place, but... It wasn't. And his troop were mawed down in all senses of the term. Elainne was openly laughing like a maniac while slaughtering her opponents, there was a barrage of fire from Morriga, Kite was striking everything moving and even Zerath went out to kill some peoples with his dagger. Oh, and apparently, some of his rebels were using bombs and... Blew themselves up by mistake. So he grabbed Zerath of Attre and tried to teleport away. I suppose he thought about using the young cintrasian as some kind of hostage, something like that. Unfortunatly, he took an arrow to the knee and... Teleported in the village, above a roof and they both landed pretty badly. Well, especially the Gardener, in fact. Zerath must be a lucky one and stayed conscious enough to avoid falling from said roof. Seeing the defeat of their leader, the Blue Roses capitulated. Though, I suspect it was a matter of time : it's pretty demoralizing to go for an easy assault and be welcomed by fire and steel.
Once done and the rebels captured, the group was about to leave the place (well, when Elainne would come back from the grove where there was a secret cache belongign to the Blue Roses) when a small contigent of the army came, led by the Sergent Klarsfeld of the Impera Brigad, and the Capitain Joshua. It was the regiment tasked to hunt down the Blue Roses rebels. The Sergent spoke with Kite, calling him "The Duke of Neunreuth's Hound", and gave him the promised reward for the capture of the Gardener. And... He told him about a certain "Wynn Deryn", a strange man apparently known of Kite, who, having met the Nilfgaardian army, told them that a certain Witcher whose looking alike a lot of Elainne was wanted in Angren. Apparently, she really pissed off a powerful noble a while ago and said noble doesn't seems to be the kind of woman who forget easily an offense.
Well... I think it's all for the night folks ! Sorry to leave you in such cliffhanger, but it's getting late, I'm not the only bard who's here to entertain you tonight and I have a rendez-vous with a bottle of cider ! Though, I promise you to see you again tomorrow, with new tales about their aventures !

I was pouring drink number three when my phone rang… I'm 20 years old, a little drunk and in about an hour, I will have almost shot my colleague in the chest in front of three police officers and two frozen dead bodies. Weird. I can't say that I'm mentally ready for what I'm about to see this evening, who’s ever really ready to walk into a garage with a Chevy Cavalier riddled with bullets and two frozen gang bangers inside. My name is Grant and These are My Funeral Home Stories.
Chapter Two: three drinks, Two dead & One Candy Bar
It's about six o'clock on the 3rd Tuesday in February and factoring in the windchill, it's negative 14 degrees outside. I've been off of work for about an hour and I'm not on call tonight…So naturally, I'm just finishing up my second drink and considering whether to order pizza or Chinese tonight. I use my finger to stop by drink from bubbling over and the phone rings. It’s Andy, one of the directors from the funeral home that’s on call when Ned and I are off AND apparently the person he's on call with this evening is unreachable…If it's your job to be on call, you don't want this to happen. It's almost the equivalent of a no call no show at any other job. If you're on call, the only thing you have to do is wait for the phone to ring and when it does ring, you answer it. It’s really not that hard.
Andy is calling me to ask if I would fill in and go on a police call with him. There was a shooting and apparently there are two frozen dead bodies in a car… inside the police station. OK. Why are they at the police station? Great question. Apparently it was too cold outside to investigate and process the crime scene so they moved the crime scene into a heated garage inside a police station. This all sounds incredibly interesting to me but there's only one problem… I'm drunk. Well, on my way to drunk and I'm not old enough to drink. I'm not going anywhere near a police station. I explained to Andy that I'm in no condition to drive to the funeral home and he'd have to find someone else. He interrupted me and said, “ but you're not old enough to drink. Stay put. I'm picking you up. See you in 10.” He hung up the phone before I had time to argue.
Welp. Looks like I'm going to the police station against all better judgment. I finish my third drink as I put on my black 3 button double breasted black suit by Chaps that I picked up at Kohls. (Side note: all my other suits were at the dry cleaners. I hate this suit. It makes me look like a walking rectangle.) It's our funeral home’s policy that we dress cleanly and professionally while in public. This means you ruin a lot of good dress clothes but at least you look sharp… and you can write off your dry cleaning as a job related expense.
I run a razor over my face sans shaving cream because I’m in a hurry and our funeral home also has a strict no facial hair policy. No mustaches, no goatees and definitely no beards. I'm not sure why this is a rule, It just is. I take an extra long look at myself in the mirror to make sure I have myself in order. The last thing I want to do tonight is walk into a police station looking like a sloppy, drunk unshaven underage mess. Could I get fired for getting an underage drinking ticket while on a death call? I sure hope not. I hear a horn honking in the driveway. I peak out the front window, Andy’s out front in our 2004 black Pontiac minivan. It’s a pretty slick…Instead of back seats, our van has a polished oak floor with rollers spaced evenly down the length of the van. These rollers aid in sliding caskets in and out without scratching the van or caskets.
I’m almost ready. I decided to wear a heavy wool four button top coat, scarf and rubberized dress boots by Ecco, all black of course. (Side note: Always spend extra money on ‘nicer’ boots. You don't want your socks wet on death calls.) Although I hate the suit I have on, I am wearing my favorite necktie. It's white, black and navy blue diagonally striped made from handwoven silk by Ralph Lauren. Very sharp. Remember this tie… my favorite tie, it’ll come up again later. On my way out the door I stuffed a handful of garlic flavored chips in my mouth and pulled a Nestle Butterfinger candy bar out of the pantry. The garlic will help cover up the three Jack and Cokes I just had and put a little food in my stomach. The Butterfinger…well, that's my reward. I'll eat it on the way home. I fucking love Butterfingers and why not reward myself for what I'm about to do? I'm not even on call tonight. I deserve it.
From my house to the police station, it’s about 10 minutes… a straight shot with no traffic. Andy starts nervously giggling almost immediately when my door closes and buckle my seatbelt. Funeral Directors are generally interesting people but our pal, Andy, he's a real card. I'm going to tell you a few things about Andy and hopefully won't sound too judgmental in the process. Andy had a gastric bypass surgery three years ago and as has lost about 150 pounds andI don't think he's gone clothes shopping since his weight loss. All of his suits look like they're about five sizes too big. His skin is loose around his jawline giving him a permanent droopy dog expression. It's weird seeing someone whose clothes and skin don't fit their body. He's a nervous guy and he's always afraid of getting in trouble…but somehow he's blindly confident. That's it for the positives.
Andy talks the most deliberate and malicious shit about everyone in the office. It's pathological at this point, I'm not sure he's even aware of it. You really have to watch what you say around this guy… I mean, if you don't want it repeated or used against you, don't say it around Andy. Andy's jumped from funeral home to funeral home around the country settling in towns just long enough to fuck things up and make a quick exit. He’s was a total creep and we found out a few years later that he was stealing from one of our funeral homes. He had his moments but for the most part, I didn't want anything to do with this guy…Especially after drinking almost half of my $36 bottle of Gentleman Jack. Actually, I'm probably just drunk enough to enjoy his company.
We turn on to Roosevelt, the police station is on our right. Andy has managed to keep the van under control even with the several inches of black ice and snow covering the roads. Andy tells me that we're to call a number when we're outside the police station parking garage and an officer will open the giant chain gate to let us in. The car with the dead bodies is in a separate heated garage inside the building to thaw out for processing.
It just dawned on me, I'm kind of hammered and last time I checked I'm still not old enough to drink… I feel my anxiety levels rising…I’m not super eager to walk into a police station in my current condition. My plan is to keep my head down and stay as far out of the officers’ breath smelling distance as possible. I'm so happy I decided to eat those chips before I left. I can still taste the garlic. Garlic breath is better than booze breath. I'm fairly certain they won't lock me up for having bad breath.
Andy calls the number, the gate opens and we drive down a pretty drastic slope and enter the garage filled with a fleet of police cars. There must be 40 decked out Chevy Impalas polished up and ready for dispatch. We pull forward and an officer signals us to stop next to a plain gray door in the center of a the cinder block wall on our right. Andy loaded two stretchers in the van this evening. One standard, one oversized, we get out of the van and unload both without incident. The officer walks to the back of the van and tells us to follow him.
We walk through the gray door and quickly move through three different beige hallways, no windows, just ugly plain cinderblock. I realized that I've completely lost my bearings. When we come to the end of the hallway with another gray door. I feel a combination of claustrophobia and vertigo hit me all at once or maybe that was drink number three kickin’ in. The officer opens the door and Andy and I wheel our stretchers into a 20 by 20 garage lit by the brightest fluorescent lights I've ever experienced. The temperature of the light in this room is unnerving among other things.
'Welcome to the crime lab garage' I think to myself. Immediately upon entering the room, I'm almost knocked to the floor by a smell that burns my nasal cavities. It wasn't the smell of rotting flesh or piss and shit, I’ve smelled all those things before. This was new. It’s so unique but the more Im exposed to it the more I realize I’ve smelled this before at the funeral home but I can’t place it….Then it hits me almost as intensely as the smell itself. Ammonia, that's it! It smells like someone took two or three large bottles of ammonia and just poured them all over the room. I look at Andy as we park the stretchers. We make eye contact and I pointed my nose while simultaneously making a confused face. “What the fuck is that?” I whisper.
Andy pulls two pair of blue heavy duty surgical gloves out of the front pocket of his stretcher, hands me a pair and then proceeds to blow my mind. He quietly tells me that the strong ammonia odor is coming from the blood. Apparently when someone dies suddenly all the blood cells in the body make one last screaming effort to stay alive and dump a ton of waste into the bloodstream. The waste is what gives the blood a strong scent of ammonia. You know when someone says they can smell blood in a movie or TV show? I think If this is what they're talking about.
Now that I have my gloves on and have adjusted to the smell, I take off my overcoat and suit jacket and tuck my tie between two buttons on my white dress shirt. This is simply precautionary. There is nothing worse than dipping your tie into something gross. It's almost always UNcleanable.
In this moment, I'm able to take in my surroundings. Perhaps it's the alcohol but something feels off. Under rows and rows of fluorescent lights there’s a maroon Chevy Cavalier riddled with bullet holes with all four of its doors and trunk wide open. Upon initial inspection, my eyes are drawn to two dead men in the backseat and rusted hood with a smattering of bullet holes. It seems that most of the shots were through the windshield, windows and door panels.The windshield is barely able to hold itself up.
Andy and I walk around the car to figure out our plan of attack. He flips open a black vinyl body bag, unzips it and places it on the ground next to the car and he tells me his plan. “If they’re frozen in a seated position, we won't be able to move em that easily… So we'll wiggle them out, lay them on the body bags and zip up the disaster pouch around them.” This sounds good to me. We move in.
We decided to start with the body in the driver's side backseat. The door’s already open and the hinges appear to be hyper extended. The crime scene techs probably bent the hinges while they were scrubbing the scene. Now up close, I’m finally able to take in the two dead men sitting in the backseat in front of me. These guys must have been a couple years older than me, both wearing Timberlands, black jeans and black jackets… like big puffy down jackets. One man has a New Era baseball cap on backwards while the other has a black stocking cap atop his head. I didn't see any logos but the brain matter, bullet holes and blood may have made it hard to notice. The ammonia smell inside the car is completely overwhelming. Blood is literally covering everything in the backseat. Chunks of thawing brain and meat are all over the headrest. I pick up a piece near the seat belt and squeeze it with my middle finger and thumb. It's still a little frozen so it crunches a bit before turning into mush between my fingers. I wiped my hand on a clean part of the interior.
Bullet holes are weird…For something that can end your life so quickly, they don't leave much of a mark on their way in…BUT the way out is a totally different story. I have no idea how many times these men were shot but they’re covered and destroyed by bullet holes. Chin, hands, thighs under the eyeballs and everywhere else. There wasn’t a part of either of these men’s bodies that didn’t have at least one bullet hole… I didn't see their feet though…if I’m being completely transparent.
This is gore. This is a complete horror show. Someone wanted these men dead… like seriously dead. Was it the driver or could it have been the front seat passenger? There must have been someone sitting in the front seat, right? Why else would two grown men sit in the backseat together if there was an open front seat? By the number of holes, I come to the conclusion that at least two people had to have shot up this car….Far too many holes for one shooter and it was definitely people they thought they were close to…
With half my body in the car, the smell of ammonia is blending with the smell of shit…which is undoubtedly oozing from one or all of the many holes in these men's stomachs. Thankfully, the taste of the garlic chips and whiskey I had earlier keeping me from gagging. Both men looked like they were sleeping like someone's dad or brother in the backseat on a road trip but riddled with holes and covered and smelly blood and falling human chunks.
There's only enough room for one of us in the car’s backseat door opening so Andy gets in the driver's seat backwards and reaches back around the front seat to help shimmy the body out. I press the button and unbuckle the seatbelt, it whips back into its home position startling Andy and I. Everything in this car is covered with blood or some sort of human matter. My gloves are literally covered in blood from just unbuckling the seatbelt and now the taste of the ammonia smell is dripping its way into my mouth through my throat. The officers are having some sort of quiet discussion standing by the door we came in earlier. It's not uncommon for police officers to be completely apathetic about crime scenes when the funeral home arrives. The investigation is basically over tonight these officers couldn't care less about their scene. They just wanted to get these bodies moved out of the garage so they could get home to their families. I get that… but their lack of supervision is troubling, especially with what happens next.
I am now completely hunched over the body in the back passenger seat while Andy is supervising from the front turned around in the driver's seat with his gloved hands on the headrest. I tell Andy that I think I'm strong enough to grab this man’s right forearm and slide his body out on my own. When I grabbed the man's forearm, I immediately feel something isn't right. I've grabbed lots of dead people's forearms before. None felt like this though. It was so hard and rigid….don’t get me wrong I understand this man is frozen BUT whatever I'm grabbing on to isn't human. It's something else. It's hard and feels like metal one of those cheap metal canes you'd buy at a drugstore. The three drinks circulating through my bloodstream make me curious but pensive. I tell Andy that I'm not touching a man's arm and that there's something else in this man’s jacket.
I interrupted the police officers conversation. “Hey, something isn't right here.” An officer and I switch places as he pulls out a tactical knife and starts cutting away the sleeve to the blood soaked down jacket. “It’s a FUCKING GUN.” I look over his shoulder and see the open sleeve of a jacket revealing a sawed off shotgun. The inside of the coat was some sort of bright orange material so the short barrel of the shotgun stand out…and so did the trigger but not because of its color. It stood out because of frozen dead man’s finger hooked over and frozen around it. Did I mention the gun was cocked. This means that the slightest movement would have caused a sudden discharge… The gun would have fired directly into the driver's seat, the seat where Andy was supervising from AND apparently Andy and I noticed this at the same time.
The next sound we hear was an officer saying, “Gun! Loaded gun!”
Andy and I step back while the officers deal with the gun… he's freaked out…I can tell by the blotchy greenish yellow color he skin has turned in the last 30 seconds. Andy says, “I don't like guns. I don't like guns.”
“It's cool, man. Nobody got shot.” I say not being too sympathetic. I'm definitely drunk now and the idea of a frozen dead man shooting my partner in the chest is kind of hilarious, even if it would have been my fault. I giggle internally. Andy quickly moves towards the door and says, “I need to get some fresh air” and scurries out like an asshole letting the door slam behind him. Almost at the same moment the door closed. The three officers approached me from behind, “We got it out….It was loaded. Your buddy's lucky you didn’t shoot him in the chest.” I just snicker and tell the officers my partner needed some air and that I'll make the removals myself. How hard could it be? I'll just grab and pull.
Frozen bodies move in one piece while regular room temperature bodies are just floppy deadweight. These fellas are frozen solid…they felt like moving a heavy chair or peculiar shaped table out of your friend's car. Square peg in round holes, it was actually considerably easier than I anticipated.
The sound of the two bodies hitting a cold cement after pulling them out was very satisfying…a simple loud hollow frozen thud. I'm surrounded by awfulness and all I can think about is how proud I am that I just handled this crime scene on my own. I can't wait to eat that Butterfinger waiting for me in the car. It's a fitting reward but also something to get rid of this ammonia and garlic taste overpowering my senses at the moment.
Andy still hasn't come back and we're about to zip up the last body bag. An officer had put on a pair of gloves to help me maneuver the second man's rigid bent knees into the body bag. This man's body was like a complicated Tetris piece. Once in, we each grab a zipper on either side of the black vinyl bag and zip our respective ends until they meet in the middle. I nod my head at the officer and say, “That's how it's done!”
The officer looks at me sternly and says, “Did you just come from a party?” I look at him confused and respond, ”What?”
The officer tells me that he just got a waft of alcohol. “It reeks like booze over here.” I closed my mouth quickly and my heart begins to beat out of my chest. I must smell like a distillery… so much for those garlic chips. Laughing, I say, “On a Tuesday? Come on, man!” The officer stands up and says, “Let's run a tox screen on these guys to find out how fucked up they were before getting blasted.”
Looks like a dodged a bullet. How did he smell my whiskey breath over the ammonia smell? Does my breath just smell like straight rubbing alcohol? I feel bad that these dead guys got blamed for MY alcohol breath but, at least, I won't be walking out of here with an underage drinking ticket.
Calming down and feeling relieved. I looked down on my shirt and see that my necktie, my very favorite Ralph Lauren necktie, had fallen out of my shirt at some point and had been dipped into some smelly smelly blood. Fuck! Of course I ruined my favorite necktie on a night I'm not even supposed to be working. I undo the knot and throw the tie into a biohazard bag. The rest of the removal was kind of a blur because I was laser focused thinking about that Butterfinger I left in the car. The alcohol plus all the blood smell I kind of made my stomach sour. My mouth starts to water thinking about that candy bar.
One of the officers helps me wheel the stretchers out to the van in the main area of the police station parking garage. I can see exhaust coming out of our van. It's on? Did we leave the van running? I open the back of the van to find Andy laying down in the center of the wooden roller board taking up the entire back of the van. The sound startles him and he quickly jumps up to a seated position and says, “I'm sorry man, guns really freak me out. I almost got shot…. I thought I was gonna pass out.”
I notice a yellow rapper sitting next to his right leg. He noticed that I noticed. “Oh yeah, I owe you a candy bar.” He says in a nonchalant manner.
All at once, my dislike for Andy hit me like a tidal wave. I ruined my favorite tie and this asshole ate my candy bar? Andy, sensing my disappointment and anger, didn't say another word and I imagine what it would have been like if that shot gun would have gone off.
My name is Grant and these are My Funeral Home Stories.
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I was pouring drink number three when my phone rang… I'm 20 years old, a little drunk and in about an hour, I will have almost shot my colleague in the chest in front of three police officers and two frozen dead bodies. Weird. I can't say that I'm mentally ready for what I'm about to see this evening, who’s ever really ready to walk into a garage with a Chevy Cavalier riddled with bullets and two frozen gang bangers inside. My name is Grant and These are My Funeral Home Stories.
Chapter Two: three drinks, Two dead & One Candy Bar
It's about six o'clock on the 3rd Tuesday in February and factoring in the windchill, it's negative 14 degrees outside. I've been off of work for about an hour and I'm not on call tonight…So naturally, I'm just finishing up my second drink and considering whether to order pizza or Chinese tonight. I use my finger to stop by drink from bubbling over and the phone rings. It’s Andy, one of the directors from the funeral home that’s on call when Ned and I are off AND apparently the person he's on call with this evening is unreachable…If it's your job to be on call, you don't want this to happen. It's almost the equivalent of a no call no show at any other job. If you're on call, the only thing you have to do is wait for the phone to ring and when it does ring, you answer it. It’s really not that hard.
Andy is calling me to ask if I would fill in and go on a police call with him. There was a shooting and apparently there are two frozen dead bodies in a car… inside the police station. OK. Why are they at the police station? Great question. Apparently it was too cold outside to investigate and process the crime scene so they moved the crime scene into a heated garage inside a police station. This all sounds incredibly interesting to me but there's only one problem… I'm drunk. Well, on my way to drunk and I'm not old enough to drink. I'm not going anywhere near a police station. I explained to Andy that I'm in no condition to drive to the funeral home and he'd have to find someone else. He interrupted me and said, “ but you're not old enough to drink. Stay put. I'm picking you up. See you in 10.” He hung up the phone before I had time to argue.
Welp. Looks like I'm going to the police station against all better judgment. I finish my third drink as I put on my black 3 button double breasted black suit by Chaps that I picked up at Kohls. (Side note: all my other suits were at the dry cleaners. I hate this suit. It makes me look like a walking rectangle.) It's our funeral home’s policy that we dress cleanly and professionally while in public. This means you ruin a lot of good dress clothes but at least you look sharp… and you can write off your dry cleaning as a job related expense.
I run a razor over my face sans shaving cream because I’m in a hurry and our funeral home also has a strict no facial hair policy. No mustaches, no goatees and definitely no beards. I'm not sure why this is a rule, It just is. I take an extra long look at myself in the mirror to make sure I have myself in order. The last thing I want to do tonight is walk into a police station looking like a sloppy, drunk unshaven underage mess. Could I get fired for getting an underage drinking ticket while on a death call? I sure hope not. I hear a horn honking in the driveway. I peak out the front window, Andy’s out front in our 2004 black Pontiac minivan. It’s a pretty slick…Instead of back seats, our van has a polished oak floor with rollers spaced evenly down the length of the van. These rollers aid in sliding caskets in and out without scratching the van or caskets.
I’m almost ready. I decided to wear a heavy wool four button top coat, scarf and rubberized dress boots by Ecco, all black of course. (Side note: Always spend extra money on ‘nicer’ boots. You don't want your socks wet on death calls.) Although I hate the suit I have on, I am wearing my favorite necktie. It's white, black and navy blue diagonally striped made from handwoven silk by Ralph Lauren. Very sharp. Remember this tie… my favorite tie, it’ll come up again later. On my way out the door I stuffed a handful of garlic flavored chips in my mouth and pulled a Nestle Butterfinger candy bar out of the pantry. The garlic will help cover up the three Jack and Cokes I just had and put a little food in my stomach. The Butterfinger…well, that's my reward. I'll eat it on the way home. I fucking love Butterfingers and why not reward myself for what I'm about to do? I'm not even on call tonight. I deserve it.
From my house to the police station, it’s about 10 minutes… a straight shot with no traffic. Andy starts nervously giggling almost immediately when my door closes and buckle my seatbelt. Funeral Directors are generally interesting people but our pal, Andy, he's a real card. I'm going to tell you a few things about Andy and hopefully won't sound too judgmental in the process. Andy had a gastric bypass surgery three years ago and as has lost about 150 pounds andI don't think he's gone clothes shopping since his weight loss. All of his suits look like they're about five sizes too big. His skin is loose around his jawline giving him a permanent droopy dog expression. It's weird seeing someone whose clothes and skin don't fit their body. He's a nervous guy and he's always afraid of getting in trouble…but somehow he's blindly confident. That's it for the positives.
Andy talks the most deliberate and malicious shit about everyone in the office. It's pathological at this point, I'm not sure he's even aware of it. You really have to watch what you say around this guy… I mean, if you don't want it repeated or used against you, don't say it around Andy. Andy's jumped from funeral home to funeral home around the country settling in towns just long enough to fuck things up and make a quick exit. He’s was a total creep and we found out a few years later that he was stealing from one of our funeral homes. He had his moments but for the most part, I didn't want anything to do with this guy…Especially after drinking almost half of my $36 bottle of Gentleman Jack. Actually, I'm probably just drunk enough to enjoy his company.
We turn on to Roosevelt, the police station is on our right. Andy has managed to keep the van under control even with the several inches of black ice and snow covering the roads. Andy tells me that we're to call a number when we're outside the police station parking garage and an officer will open the giant chain gate to let us in. The car with the dead bodies is in a separate heated garage inside the building to thaw out for processing.
It just dawned on me, I'm kind of hammered and last time I checked I'm still not old enough to drink… I feel my anxiety levels rising…I’m not super eager to walk into a police station in my current condition. My plan is to keep my head down and stay as far out of the officers’ breath smelling distance as possible. I'm so happy I decided to eat those chips before I left. I can still taste the garlic. Garlic breath is better than booze breath. I'm fairly certain they won't lock me up for having bad breath.
Andy calls the number, the gate opens and we drive down a pretty drastic slope and enter the garage filled with a fleet of police cars. There must be 40 decked out Chevy Impalas polished up and ready for dispatch. We pull forward and an officer signals us to stop next to a plain gray door in the center of a the cinder block wall on our right. Andy loaded two stretchers in the van this evening. One standard, one oversized, we get out of the van and unload both without incident. The officer walks to the back of the van and tells us to follow him.
We walk through the gray door and quickly move through three different beige hallways, no windows, just ugly plain cinderblock. I realized that I've completely lost my bearings. When we come to the end of the hallway with another gray door. I feel a combination of claustrophobia and vertigo hit me all at once or maybe that was drink number three kickin’ in. The officer opens the door and Andy and I wheel our stretchers into a 20 by 20 garage lit by the brightest fluorescent lights I've ever experienced. The temperature of the light in this room is unnerving among other things.
'Welcome to the crime lab garage' I think to myself. Immediately upon entering the room, I'm almost knocked to the floor by a smell that burns my nasal cavities. It wasn't the smell of rotting flesh or piss and shit, I’ve smelled all those things before. This was new. It’s so unique but the more Im exposed to it the more I realize I’ve smelled this before at the funeral home but I can’t place it….Then it hits me almost as intensely as the smell itself. Ammonia, that's it! It smells like someone took two or three large bottles of ammonia and just poured them all over the room. I look at Andy as we park the stretchers. We make eye contact and I pointed my nose while simultaneously making a confused face. “What the fuck is that?” I whisper.
Andy pulls two pair of blue heavy duty surgical gloves out of the front pocket of his stretcher, hands me a pair and then proceeds to blow my mind. He quietly tells me that the strong ammonia odor is coming from the blood. Apparently when someone dies suddenly all the blood cells in the body make one last screaming effort to stay alive and dump a ton of waste into the bloodstream. The waste is what gives the blood a strong scent of ammonia. You know when someone says they can smell blood in a movie or TV show? I think If this is what they're talking about.
Now that I have my gloves on and have adjusted to the smell, I take off my overcoat and suit jacket and tuck my tie between two buttons on my white dress shirt. This is simply precautionary. There is nothing worse than dipping your tie into something gross. It's almost always UNcleanable.
In this moment, I'm able to take in my surroundings. Perhaps it's the alcohol but something feels off. Under rows and rows of fluorescent lights there’s a maroon Chevy Cavalier riddled with bullet holes with all four of its doors and trunk wide open. Upon initial inspection, my eyes are drawn to two dead men in the backseat and rusted hood with a smattering of bullet holes. It seems that most of the shots were through the windshield, windows and door panels.The windshield is barely able to hold itself up.
Andy and I walk around the car to figure out our plan of attack. He flips open a black vinyl body bag, unzips it and places it on the ground next to the car and he tells me his plan. “If they’re frozen in a seated position, we won't be able to move em that easily… So we'll wiggle them out, lay them on the body bags and zip up the disaster pouch around them.” This sounds good to me. We move in.
We decided to start with the body in the driver's side backseat. The door’s already open and the hinges appear to be hyper extended. The crime scene techs probably bent the hinges while they were scrubbing the scene. Now up close, I’m finally able to take in the two dead men sitting in the backseat in front of me. These guys must have been a couple years older than me, both wearing Timberlands, black jeans and black jackets… like big puffy down jackets. One man has a New Era baseball cap on backwards while the other has a black stocking cap atop his head. I didn't see any logos but the brain matter, bullet holes and blood may have made it hard to notice. The ammonia smell inside the car is completely overwhelming. Blood is literally covering everything in the backseat. Chunks of thawing brain and meat are all over the headrest. I pick up a piece near the seat belt and squeeze it with my middle finger and thumb. It's still a little frozen so it crunches a bit before turning into mush between my fingers. I wiped my hand on a clean part of the interior.
Bullet holes are weird…For something that can end your life so quickly, they don't leave much of a mark on their way in…BUT the way out is a totally different story. I have no idea how many times these men were shot but they’re covered and destroyed by bullet holes. Chin, hands, thighs under the eyeballs and everywhere else. There wasn’t a part of either of these men’s bodies that didn’t have at least one bullet hole… I didn't see their feet though…if I’m being completely transparent.
This is gore. This is a complete horror show. Someone wanted these men dead… like seriously dead. Was it the driver or could it have been the front seat passenger? There must have been someone sitting in the front seat, right? Why else would two grown men sit in the backseat together if there was an open front seat? By the number of holes, I come to the conclusion that at least two people had to have shot up this car….Far too many holes for one shooter and it was definitely people they thought they were close to…
With half my body in the car, the smell of ammonia is blending with the smell of shit…which is undoubtedly oozing from one or all of the many holes in these men's stomachs. Thankfully, the taste of the garlic chips and whiskey I had earlier keeping me from gagging. Both men looked like they were sleeping like someone's dad or brother in the backseat on a road trip but riddled with holes and covered and smelly blood and falling human chunks.
There's only enough room for one of us in the car’s backseat door opening so Andy gets in the driver's seat backwards and reaches back around the front seat to help shimmy the body out. I press the button and unbuckle the seatbelt, it whips back into its home position startling Andy and I. Everything in this car is covered with blood or some sort of human matter. My gloves are literally covered in blood from just unbuckling the seatbelt and now the taste of the ammonia smell is dripping its way into my mouth through my throat. The officers are having some sort of quiet discussion standing by the door we came in earlier. It's not uncommon for police officers to be completely apathetic about crime scenes when the funeral home arrives. The investigation is basically over tonight these officers couldn't care less about their scene. They just wanted to get these bodies moved out of the garage so they could get home to their families. I get that… but their lack of supervision is troubling, especially with what happens next.
I am now completely hunched over the body in the back passenger seat while Andy is supervising from the front turned around in the driver's seat with his gloved hands on the headrest. I tell Andy that I think I'm strong enough to grab this man’s right forearm and slide his body out on my own. When I grabbed the man's forearm, I immediately feel something isn't right. I've grabbed lots of dead people's forearms before. None felt like this though. It was so hard and rigid….don’t get me wrong I understand this man is frozen BUT whatever I'm grabbing on to isn't human. It's something else. It's hard and feels like metal one of those cheap metal canes you'd buy at a drugstore. The three drinks circulating through my bloodstream make me curious but pensive. I tell Andy that I'm not touching a man's arm and that there's something else in this man’s jacket.
I interrupted the police officers conversation. “Hey, something isn't right here.” An officer and I switch places as he pulls out a tactical knife and starts cutting away the sleeve to the blood soaked down jacket. “It’s a FUCKING GUN.” I look over his shoulder and see the open sleeve of a jacket revealing a sawed off shotgun. The inside of the coat was some sort of bright orange material so the short barrel of the shotgun stand out…and so did the trigger but not because of its color. It stood out because of frozen dead man’s finger hooked over and frozen around it. Did I mention the gun was cocked. This means that the slightest movement would have caused a sudden discharge… The gun would have fired directly into the driver's seat, the seat where Andy was supervising from AND apparently Andy and I noticed this at the same time.
The next sound we hear was an officer saying, “Gun! Loaded gun!”
Andy and I step back while the officers deal with the gun… he's freaked out…I can tell by the blotchy greenish yellow color he skin has turned in the last 30 seconds. Andy says, “I don't like guns. I don't like guns.”
“It's cool, man. Nobody got shot.” I say not being too sympathetic. I'm definitely drunk now and the idea of a frozen dead man shooting my partner in the chest is kind of hilarious, even if it would have been my fault. I giggle internally. Andy quickly moves towards the door and says, “I need to get some fresh air” and scurries out like an asshole letting the door slam behind him. Almost at the same moment the door closed. The three officers approached me from behind, “We got it out….It was loaded. Your buddy's lucky you didn’t shoot him in the chest.” I just snicker and tell the officers my partner needed some air and that I'll make the removals myself. How hard could it be? I'll just grab and pull.
Frozen bodies move in one piece while regular room temperature bodies are just floppy deadweight. These fellas are frozen solid…they felt like moving a heavy chair or peculiar shaped table out of your friend's car. Square peg in round holes, it was actually considerably easier than I anticipated.
The sound of the two bodies hitting a cold cement after pulling them out was very satisfying…a simple loud hollow frozen thud. I'm surrounded by awfulness and all I can think about is how proud I am that I just handled this crime scene on my own. I can't wait to eat that Butterfinger waiting for me in the car. It's a fitting reward but also something to get rid of this ammonia and garlic taste overpowering my senses at the moment.
Andy still hasn't come back and we're about to zip up the last body bag. An officer had put on a pair of gloves to help me maneuver the second man's rigid bent knees into the body bag. This man's body was like a complicated Tetris piece. Once in, we each grab a zipper on either side of the black vinyl bag and zip our respective ends until they meet in the middle. I nod my head at the officer and say, “That's how it's done!”
The officer looks at me sternly and says, “Did you just come from a party?” I look at him confused and respond, ”What?”
The officer tells me that he just got a waft of alcohol. “It reeks like booze over here.” I closed my mouth quickly and my heart begins to beat out of my chest. I must smell like a distillery… so much for those garlic chips. Laughing, I say, “On a Tuesday? Come on, man!” The officer stands up and says, “Let's run a tox screen on these guys to find out how fucked up they were before getting blasted.”
Looks like a dodged a bullet. How did he smell my whiskey breath over the ammonia smell? Does my breath just smell like straight rubbing alcohol? I feel bad that these dead guys got blamed for MY alcohol breath but, at least, I won't be walking out of here with an underage drinking ticket.
Calming down and feeling relieved. I looked down on my shirt and see that my necktie, my very favorite Ralph Lauren necktie, had fallen out of my shirt at some point and had been dipped into some smelly smelly blood. Fuck! Of course I ruined my favorite necktie on a night I'm not even supposed to be working. I undo the knot and throw the tie into a biohazard bag. The rest of the removal was kind of a blur because I was laser focused thinking about that Butterfinger I left in the car. The alcohol plus all the blood smell I kind of made my stomach sour. My mouth starts to water thinking about that candy bar.
One of the officers helps me wheel the stretchers out to the van in the main area of the police station parking garage. I can see exhaust coming out of our van. It's on? Did we leave the van running? I open the back of the van to find Andy laying down in the center of the wooden roller board taking up the entire back of the van. The sound startles him and he quickly jumps up to a seated position and says, “I'm sorry man, guns really freak me out. I almost got shot…. I thought I was gonna pass out.”
I notice a yellow rapper sitting next to his right leg. He noticed that I noticed. “Oh yeah, I owe you a candy bar.” He says in a nonchalant manner.
All at once, my dislike for Andy hit me like a tidal wave. I ruined my favorite tie and this asshole ate my candy bar? Andy, sensing my disappointment and anger, didn't say another word and I imagine what it would have been like if that shot gun would have gone off.
My name is Grant and these are My Funeral Home Stories.
​
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Okay so I’ve seen lots of posts and replies on here and it seems like the consensus is that Ben set the cabin on fire and I know this is greatly implied by him holding the matches in his newly found crib but what if the matches were actually a red herring?
What if the Wilderness has set the cabin on fire? Lottie explains she can no longer hear the wilderness because the YJs have learned to hear it and they now have a new leader who knows how to feed them.
Well, what if now the next step is for them to fully commune with the wilderness? The cabin has served its initial purpose and they now must fully embrace the entity and trust their queen’s decisions.
It wouldn’t be the first time the wilderness destroyed something that could keep the YJ’s from fulfilling whatever it’s got planned for them (we all remember the plane).
This crisis will also set Nat as a true leader who will earn the YJ’s respect through her actions, not only through being handed a crown. They will look at her for guidance and well, she knows where to guide them.
We know Ben told Nat about how he found the cave and we also know Sleep Tai knows how to track the carvings so it’s obvious we will see the YJ’s knocking at Ben’s door for some housewarming accusations and what is best for a newly formed cult than its first trial and execution?
We will get to see how certain girls will act in this scenario, not only our Queen Nat in the ruling but especially Van who may take on the prosecution role and Misty who perhaps will try and defend her beloved Ben and his high-calorie butt meat? I would also be curious to see if Shauna will show her bitterness and clash with Nat.
How would we feel seeing Ben get executed knowing he is in fact innocent?
I love to see some of these points in s3.

The whirring blades of my MD-902 throbbed against the warm evening air, and I smiled.
From 5,000 feet, the ground flew by in a carpet of dark forests and kelly-green fields. The sun hung low on the horizon in a picturesque array of dazzling orange and gold, and I could make out the narrow strip of the Ohio River to my left, glistening in the fading daylight. This time of year, the trees would be full of the sweet aroma of fresh blossoms, and the frequent rains kept small pockets of fluffy white mist hanging in the treetops. It was a beautiful view, one that reminded me of why being a helicopter pilot trumped flying in a jumbo jet far above the clouds every day of the week.
Fourteen more days, and I’m debt free.
That made me grin even more. I’d been working as a charter pilot ever since I obtained my license at age 19, and after years of keeping my nose to the grindstone, I was closing on the final payment for real-estate in western Pennsylvania. With no debt, a fixer-upper house on 30 rural acres all to myself, and a respectable wage for a 26-year-old pilot, I looked forward to the financial freedom I could now enjoy. Maybe I’d take a vacation, somewhere exotic like Venice Italy, or the Dominican Republic. Or perhaps I’d sock the money back for the day I started a family.
“Remember kleineun, a real man looks after his own.”
My elderly ouma’s voice came back from the depths of my memories, her proud, sun-tanned face rising from the darkness. She and my Rhodesian grandfather had emigrated to the US when they were newlyweds, as the violence against white Boer descendants in South Africa spiraled out of control. My mother and father both died in a car crash when I was six, and it had been my grandparents who raised me. Due to this, I’d grown up with a slight accent that many of my classmates found amusing, and I could speak both English, and Afrikaans, the Boer tongue of our former home.
I shifted in my seat, stretched my back muscles, and glanced at the picture taped to my console. Both my parents flanked a grinning, gap-toothed six-year-old me, at the last Christmas we’d spent together. My mother beamed, her dark hair and Italian features a sharp contrast to my father’s sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Sometimes, I liked to imagine they were smiling at me with pride at how well I flew the old silver-colored bird my company had assigned to me, and that made the long, lonely flights easier to bear.
A flicker caught my eye, and I broke my gaze away from the photograph.
Perched in its small cradle above the controls, my little black Garmin fuzzed over for a few seconds, its screen shifting from brightly colored maps to a barrage of grey static.
Did the power chord come loose?
I checked, ensuring the power-cable for the unit’s battery was plugged into the port on the control panel. It was a brand-new GPS unit, and I’d used it a few times already, so I knew it wasn’t defective. Granted, I could fly and navigate without it, but the Garmin made my time as a pilot so much easier that the thought of going blind was dreadful.
My fuel gauge danced, clicked to empty, then to full, in a bizarre jolt.
More of the gauges began to stutter, the entire panel seeming to develop terrets all at once, and my pulse began to race. Something was wrong, very wrong, and the sludge inside my bowels churned with sour fear.
“Come on, come on.” I flicked switches, turned dials, punched buttons, but nothing seemed to fix the spasming electronics. Every gauge failed, and without warning, I found myself plunged into inky darkness.
Outside, the sun surrendered to the pull of night, the sky darker than usual. A distant rumble of thunder reverberated above the roar of my helicopter’s engine, and I thought I glimpsed a streak of yellowish lightning on the far horizon to my left.
Calm down Chris. We’re still flying, so it must just be a blown fuse. Stay in control and find a place to set her down.
My sweaty palm slid on the cyclic stick, and both feet weighed heavy on the yaw pedals. The collective stuck to my other hand with a nervous vibration, and I squinted against the abyss outside.
Beep.
I jumped despite myself, as the little Garmin on my panel flared back to life, the static pulling aside to reveal a twitching display. Each time the screen glitched, it showed the colorful map detailing my flight path over the ground below, but I noticed that some of the lines changed, the names shifting, as if the device couldn’t decide between two different versions of the world.
One name jutted out at me, slate gray like most of the major county names, appearing with ghostly flickers from between two neighboring ones.
Barron County.
I stared, confused. I’d flown over this section of southeastern Ohio plenty of times, and I knew the counties by heart. At this point, I should have been over the southern end of Noble County, and maybe dipping lower into Washington. There was no Barron County in Ohio. I was sure of it.
And yet it shown back at me from the digital landscape, a strange, almost cigar-shaped chunk of terrain carved from the surrounding counties like a tumor, sometimes there, sometimes not, as my little Garmin struggled to find the correct map. Rain began to patter against my cockpit window, and the entire aircraft rattled from a strong gust of wind. Thick clouds closed over my field of vision like a sea of gray cotton.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and I sucked in a nervous breath.
Land. I had to land. There was nothing else to do, my flight controls weren’t responding, and only my Garmin had managed to come back to life. Perhaps I’d been hit by lightning, and the electronics had been fried? Either way, it was too dark to tell, but a storm seemed to be brewing, and if I didn’t get my feet on the ground soon, I could be in real trouble.
“Better safe than sorry.” I pushed down on the collective to start my slow descent and clicked the talking button for my headset. “Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, over.”
Nothing.
“Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, requesting emergency assistance, over.”
Still nothing.
If the radio’s dead, I’m really up a creek.
With my hand shaking, I clicked on the mic one more time. “Any station, this is—”
Like a curtain pulling back, the fog cleared from around my window, and the words stuck in my throat.
Without my gauges, I couldn’t tell just how far I’d descended, but I was definitely very low. Thick trees poked up from the ground, and the hills rolled into high ridges with flat valley floors, fields and pastures pockmarking them. Rain fell all around in cold, silvery sheets, a normal feature for the mid spring in this part of Ohio.
What wasn’t normal, were the fires.
At first, I thought they were forest fires for the amount of smoke and flames that bellowed from each spot, but as I swooped lower, my eyes widened in horror.
They were houses.
Farms, cottages, little clusters that barely constituted villages, all of them belched orange flames and black pillars of sooty smoke. I couldn’t hear above the helicopter blades, but I could see the flashes on the ground, along the road, in between the trees, and even coming from the burning buildings, little jets of golden light that spat into the darkness with anger.
Gunfire. That’s rifle fire, a whole lot of it.
Tiny black figures darted through the shadows, barely discernable from where I sat, several hundred feet up. I couldn’t see much, but some were definitely running away, the streaks of yellow gunfire chasing them. A few dark gray vehicles rumbled down one of the gravel roads, and sprayed fire into the houses as it went. They were fighting, I realized, the people in the trucks and the locals. It was horrific, like something out of war-torn Afghanistan, but worse.
Then, I caught a glimpse of the others.
They didn’t move like the rest, who either fled from the dark vehicles, or fired back from behind cover. These skinny figures loped along with haphazard gaits, many running on all fours like animals, swarming from the trees by the dozens. They threw themselves into the gales of bullets without flinching, attacking anyone within range, and something about the way they moved, so fluid, so fearless, made my heart skip a beat.
What is that?
“Echo Four Actual to unknown caller, please respond, over.”
Choking back a cry of shock, I fumbled at the control panel with clumsy fingers, the man’s voice sharp and stern. I hadn’t realized that I’d let go of the talking button and clicked it down again. “Hello? Hello, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot out of Pittsburgh, over.”
An excruciating moment passed, and I continued to zoom over the trees, the fires falling away behind me as more silent forest took over.
“Roger that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, we read you loud and clear. Please identify yourself and any passengers or cargo you might be carrying, over.”
Swallowing hard, I eyed the treetops, which looked much closer than they should have been. How far had I descended? “Echo Four Actual, my name is Christopher Dekker, and I am alone. I’m a charter flight from PA, carrying medical equipment for OSU in Columbus. My controls have been damaged, and I am unable to safely carry on due to the storm. Requesting permission to land, over.”
I watched the landscape slide by underneath me, once catching sight of what looked like a little white church surrounded by smaller huts, dozens of figures in the yard staring up at me as I flew over a nearby ridgeline.
“Solid copy on that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot. Be advised, your transponder shows you to be inside a restricted zone. Please cease all radio traffic, reduce your speed, climb to 3,000 feet and proceed north. We’ll talk you in from there. How copy, over?”
My heart jumped, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Roger that Echo Four Actual, my altimeter is down, but I’ll do my best to eyeball the altitude, over.”
With that, I pulled the collective upward, and tried my best to gauge how far I was by eyesight in the gathering night, rain still coming down all around me. This had to be some kind of disaster or riot, I decided. After all, the voice over the radio sounded like military, and those vehicles seemed to have heavy weapons. Maybe there was some kind of unrest going on here that I hadn’t heard about yet?
Kind of weird for it to happen in rural areas though. Spoiled college kids I get, but never saw farmers get so worked up before. They usually love the military.
Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I turned out of reflex.
My mouth fell open, and I froze, unable to scream.
In the sky beside me, a huge shadow glided along, and its leathery wings effortlessly carved through the gloom, flapping only on occasion to keep it aloft. It was too dark for me to see what color it was, but from the way it moved, I knew it wasn’t another helicopter. No, this thing was alive, easily the size of a small plane, and more than twice the length of my little McDonald Douglass. A long tail trailed behind it, and bore a distinct arrow-shaped snout, with twig-like spines fanned out around the back of its head. Whatever legs it had were drawn up under it like a bird, yet its skin appeared rough and knobby, almost resembling tree bark. Without pause, the gigantic bat-winged entity flew along beside me, as if my presence was on par with an annoying fly buzzing about its head.
Gripping the microphone switch so tight, I thought I’d crack the plastic, I whispered into my headset, forgetting all radio protocol. “T-There’s something up here.”
Static crackled.
“Douglas Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, say again your last, you’re coming in weak and unreadable, over.”
“There’s something up here.” I snarled into the headset, still glued to the controls of the helicopter, afraid to deviate even an inch from my course in case the monstrosity decided to turn on me. “A freaking huge thing, right beside me. I swear, it looks like a bat or . . . I don’t know.”
“Calm down.” The man on the other end of the radio broke his rigorous discipline as well, his voice deep, but level. “It won’t attack if you don’t move too fast. Slowly ease away from it and follow that course until you’re out of sight.”
I didn’t have time to think about how wrong that sounded, how the man’s strict tone had changed to one of knowledge, how he hadn’t been the least surprised by what I’d said. Instead, I slowly turned the helicopter away from the huge menace and edged the speed higher in tiny increments.
As soon as I was roughly two football fields away, I let myself relax, and clicked the mic switch. “It’s not following.”
“You’re sure?”
Eyeing the huge flapping wings, I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m well clear.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Dekker.”
Then, the radio went dead.
Something in my chest dropped, a weight that made my stomach roil. This wasn’t right, none of it. Who was that man? Why did he know about the thing I’d just seen? What was I supposed to—
A flash of light exploded from the trees to my right and shot into the air with a long finger of smoke.
What the . . .
On instinct, I jerked the cyclic stick to one side, and the helicopter swung to avoid the rocket.
Boom.
My world shook, metal screeched, and a dozen alarms began to go off inside the cockpit in a cacophony of beeps and sirens. Orange and red flames lit up the night sky just behind me, and the horizon started to spin wildly outside. Heat gushed from the cockpit door, and I smelled the greasy stench of burning oil. The safety belts dug into my shoulders, and with a final slip, the radio headset ripped free from my scalp.
I’m hit.
Desperate, I yanked on the controls, fought the bird even as she spun toward the ground in a wreath of flames, the inky black trees hurtling up to meet me. The helicopter went into full auto-rotation, the sky blurring past outside, and the alarms blared in a screech of doom. Panic slammed through my temples, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and for one brief second, my eyes locked on the little black Garmin still perched atop my control panel.
Its screen stopped twitching and settled on a map of the mysterious Barron County, with a little red arrow at the center of the screen, a few words popping up underneath it.
You are here.
Trees stabbed up into the sky, the belts crushed at my torso, glass shattered all around me, and the world went dark.
Copper, thick, warm, and tangy.
It filled my mouth, stank metallic in my nose, clogged my throat, choking me. In the murkiness, I fought for a surface, for a way out, blind and numb in the dark.
This way, kleineun.
My ouma’s voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows.
This way.
Both eyes flew open, and I gagged, spitting out a stream of red.
Pain throbbed in my ribs, and a heavy pressure sent a tingling numbness through my shoulders. Blood roared inside my temples, and stars danced before my eyes with a dizzying array. Humid night air kissed my skin, and something sticky coated my face, neck, and arms that hung straight up toward the ceiling.
Wait. Not up. Down.
I blinked at the wrinkled, torn ceiling of the cockpit, the glass all gone, the gray aluminum shredded like tissue paper. Just outside the broken windows, thick Appalachian bluegrass and stemmy underbrush swished in a feeble breeze, backlit by flashes of lightning from the thunderstorm overhead. Green and brown leaves covered everything in a wet carpet of triangles, and somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped.
Turning my head from side to side, I realized that I hung upside down inside the ruined helicopter, the top half burrowed into the mud. I could hear the hissing and crackling of flames, the pattering of rain falling on the hot aluminum, and the smaller brush fires around the downed aircraft sizzling out in the damp long grass. Charred steel and burning oil tainted the air, almost as strong as the metallic, coppery stench in my aching nose.
They shot me down. That military dude shot me out of the sky.
It didn’t make sense. I’d followed their orders, done everything they’d said, and yet the instant I veered safely away from whatever that thing in the sky had been, they’d fired, not at it, but at me.
Looking down (or rather, up) at my chest, I sucked in a gasp, which was harder to do that before.
The navy-blue shirt stuck to my torso with several big splotches of dark, rusty red. Most were clean slashes, but two held bits of glass sticking out of them, one alarmingly bigger than the other. They dripped cherry red blood onto my upturned face, and a wave of nausea hit me.
I gotta get down.
I flexed my arms to try and work some feeling back into them, praying nothing was broken. Half-numb from hanging so long, I palmed along my aching body until I felt the buckled for the seat belts.
“Okay.” I hissed between gritted teeth, in an effort to stave off my panic. “You can do this. Just hold on tight. Nice and tight. Here we go . . .”
Click.
Everything seemed to lurch, and I slid off the seat to plummet towards the muck-filled hole in the cockpit ceiling. My fingers were slick with blood and slipped over the smooth faux-leather pilot’s seat with ease. The shoulder belt snagged on the bits of glass that lay just under the left lowest rib, and a flare of white-hot pain ripped through me.
Wham.
I screamed, my right knee caught the edge of the aluminum ceiling, and both hands dove into a mound of leaf-covered glass shards on the opposite side of the hole. My head swam, being right-side-up again enough to make shadows gnaw at the corner of my eyes.
Forcing myself to breath slowly, I fought the urge to faint and slid back to sit on the smooth ceiling. I turned my hands over to see half a dozen bits of clear glass burrowed into my skin like greedy parasites, red blood weeping around the new cuts.
“Screw you.” I spat at the rubbish with angry tears in my eyes. “Screw you, screw you, screw you.”
The shards came out easy enough, and the cuts weren’t that deep, but that wasn’t what worried me. On my chest, the single piece of cockpit glass that remined was almost as big as my palm, and it really hurt. Just touching it felt like self-inflicted torture, but I knew it had to come out sooner or later.
Please don’t nick a vein.
Wiping my hands dry on my jeans, I gripped the shard with both hands, and jerked.
Fire roared over my ribs, and hot blood tickled my already grimy pale skin. I clapped a hand over the wound, pressing down hard, and grunted out a string of hateful expletives that my ouma would have slapped me for.
Lying on my back, I stared around me at the messy cargo compartment of the MD-902. Most of the medical supplies had been in cardboard boxes strapped down with heavy nylon tow-straps, but several cases had ruptured with the force of the impact, spraying bandages, syringes, and pill bottles all over the cluttered interior. Orange flames chewed at the crate furthest to the rear, the tail section long gone, but the foremost part of the hold was intact. Easily a million-dollar mess, it would have made me faint on any other trip, but today it was a godsend.
Half-blind in the darkness, I crawled along with only the firelight and lightning bolts to guide me, my right knee aching. Like a crippled raccoon, I collected things as I went, conscious of the two pallets of intact supplies weighing right over my head. I’d taken several different first-aid courses with some hunting buddies of mine, and the mental reflexes kicked in to help soothe my frazzled mind.
Check for bleeds, stop the worst, then move on.
Aside from my battered chest and stomach, the rest of me remained mostly unharmed. I had nasty bruises from the seatbelts, my right knee swelled, my nose slightly crooked and crusted in blood, but otherwise I was intact. Dowsing every scratch and cut with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol I found, I used butterfly closures on the smaller lacerations that peppered my skin. I wrapped soft white gauze over my abused palms and probed at the big cut where the last shard had been, only stopping when I was sure there were no pieces of glass wedged inside my flesh.
“Not too bad.” I grunted to myself, trying to sound impassive like a doctor might. “Rib must have stopped it. Gonna need stitches though. That’ll be fun.”
Pawing through the broken cases, I couldn’t find any suture chord, but just as I was about to give up, I noticed a small box that read ‘medical skin stapler’.
Bingo.
I tore the small white plastic stapler free from its packaging and eyeballed the device. I’d never done this before, only seen it in movies, and even though the cut in my skin hurt, I wondered if this wouldn’t be worse.
You’ve gotta do it. That bleeding needs to stop. Besides, no one’s coming to rescue you, not with those rocket-launching psychos out there.
Taking a deep breath, I pinched the skin around the gash together, and pressed the mouth of the stapler to it.
Click.
A sharp sting, like that of a needle bit at the skin, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the cut itself. I worked my way across the two-inch laceration and gave out a sigh of relief when it was done.
“Not going to bleed to death today.” I daubed ointment around the staples before winding more bandages over the wound.
Popping a few low-grade painkillers that tumbled from the cargo, I crawled wriggled through the nearest shattered window into the wet grass.
Raindrops kissed my face, clean and cool on my sweaty skin. Despite the thick cloud cover, there was enough constant lightning strikes within the storm to let me get glimpses of the world around me. My helicopter lay on its back, the blades snapped like pencils, with bits and pieces of it burning in chunks all around the small break in the trees. Chest-high scrub brush grew all around the low-lying ground, with pockets of standing water in places. My ears still rang from the impact of the crash, but I could start to pick up more crickets, frogs, and even some nocturnal birds singing into the darkness, like they didn’t notice the huge the hulk of flaming metal that had fallen from the sky. Overhead, the thunder rumbled onward, the feeble wind whistling, and there were other flashes on the horizon, orange and red ones, with crackles that didn’t sound quite like lightning.
The guns. They’re still fighting.
Instinctively, I pulled out my cellphone, and tapped the screen.
It fluttered to life, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get through to anyone, not even with the emergency function designed to work around having no service. The complicated wonder of our modern world was little better than a glorified paperweight.
Stunned, I sat down with my back to the helicopter and rested my head against the aluminum skin of the craft. How I’d gone from a regular medical supply run to being marooned in this hellish parody of rural America, I didn’t know, but one thig was certain; I needed a plan. Whoever fired the missile could have already contacted my charter company and made up some excuse to keep them from coming to look for me. No one else knew I was here, and even though I now had six staples holding the worst of my injuries shut, I knew I needed proper medical attention. If I wanted to live, I’d have to rescue myself.
My bag. I need to get my go-bag, grab some gear and then . . . head somewhere else.
It took me a while to gather my green canvas paratrooper bag from its place behind the pilot’s seat and fill it with whatever supplies I could scrounge. My knee didn’t seem to be broken, but man did it hurt, and I dreaded the thought of walking on it for miles on end. I focused instead on inventorying my gear and trying to come up with a halfway intelligent plan of action.
I had a stainless-steel canteen with one of those detachable cups on the bottom, a little fishing kit, some duct tape, a lighter, a black LED flashlight with three spare batteries, a few tattered road maps with a compass, a spare pair of socks, medical supplies from the cargo, and a simple forest green plastic rain poncho. I also managed to unearth a functioning digital camcorder my ouma had gotten me for Christmas a few years back, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any filming in such a miserable state. Lastly, since it was a private supply run from a warehouse area near Pittsburgh to a direct hospital pad in Ohio, I’d been able to bring my K-Bar, a sturdy, and brutally simple knife designed for the Marine Corps that I used every time I went camping. It was pitiful in comparison to the rifle I wished I had with me, but that didn’t matter now. I had what I had, and I doubted my trusty Armalite would have alleviated my sore knee anyway.
Clicking on my flashlight, I huddled with the poncho around my shoulders inside the wreck of the chopper and peered at the dusty roadmaps. A small part of me hoped that a solution would jump out from the faded paper, but none came. These were all maps of western PA and eastern Ohio. None of them had a Barron County on them anywhere.
The man on the radio said to head north, right before they shot me down. That means they must be camped out to the north of here. South had that convoy and those burning houses, so that’s a no-go. Maybe I can backtrack eastward the way I came.
As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from over the eastern horizon, and I craned to look out the helicopter window, spotting more man-made flashes over the tree tops.
“Great.” I hissed between clenched teeth, aware of how the temperature dipped to a chilly 60 degrees, and how despite the conditions, my stomach had begun to growl. “Not going that way, are we? Westward it is.”
Walking away from my poor 902 proved to be harder than I’d anticipated. Despite the glass, the fizzling fires, and the darkness, it still held a familiar, human essence to it. Sitting inside it made me feel secure, safe, even calm about the situation. In any other circumstance, I would have just stayed with the downed aircraft to wait for help, but I knew the men who shot me down would likely find my crash site, and I didn’t want to be around when they did.
Unlike much of central and western Ohio, southeastern Ohio is hilly, brushy, and clogged with thick forests. Thorns snagged at my thin poncho and sliced at my pant legs. My knee throbbed, every step a form of self-inflicted torture. The rain never stopped, a steady drizzle from above just cold enough to be problematic as time went on, making me shiver. Mud slid under my tennis shoes, and every tree looked ten times bigger in the flickering beam of my cheap flashlight. Icy fear prickled at the back of my neck at some of the sounds that greeted me through the gloom. I’d been camping loads of times, both in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, but these noises were something otherworldly to me.
Strange howls, screeches, and calls permeated the rain-soaked sky, some almost roars, while others bordered on human in their intonation. The more I walked, the softer the distant gunfire became, and the more prevalent the odd sounds, until the shadows seemed to fill with them. I didn’t dare turn off my flashlight, or I’d been completely blind in the dark, but a little voice in the back of my head screamed that I was too visible, crunching through the gloomy forest with my long beam of light stabbing into the abyss. It felt as though a million eyes were on me, studying me, hunting me from the surrounding brush, and I bitterly recalled how much I’d loved the old Survivor Man TV series as a kid.
Not so fun being out in the woods at night. Especially alone.
A twig snapped somewhere behind me, and I whirled on the spot, one trembling hand resting on the hilt of my K-Bar.
Nothing. Nothing but trees, bushes, and rain dripping down in the darkness.
“This is stupid.” I whispered to myself to keep my nerves in check as I slowly spun on the spot. “I should have went eastward anyway. God knows how long I’m going to have to—”
Creak.
A groan of metal-on-metal echoed from somewhere to my right, and I spun to face it, yanking the knife on my belt free from its scabbard. It felt so small and useless in my hand, and I choked down a wave of nauseas fear.
Ka-whump. Creak. K-whump. Creak.
Underbrush cracked and crunched, a few smaller saplings thrashed, and from deep within the gloom, two yellow orbs flared to life. They poked through the mist in the trees, forming into slender fingers of golden light that swept back and forth in the dark.
The soldiers . . . they must be looking for me.
I swallowed hard and turned to slink away.
Ice jammed through my blood, and I froze on the spot, biting my tongue to stop the scream.
It stood not yards away, a huge form that towered a good twelve feet tall in the swirling shadows. Unpolished chrome blended with flash-rusted spots in the faded red paint, and grime-smeared glass shone with dull hues in the flashes of lightning. Where the wheels should have been, the rounded steel axels curved like some enormous hand had bent them, and the tires lay face-down on the muddy ground like big round feet, their hubcaps buried in the dirt. Dents, scrapes, and chips covered the battered thing, and its crooked little radio antenna pointed straight up from the old metal fender like a mast. I could barely make out the mud-coated VW on the rounded hood, and my mind reeled in shock.
Is . . . is that a car?
Both yellow headlights bathed me in a circle of bright, blinding light, and neither I nor the strange vehicle moved.
Seconds ticked by, the screech-thumping in the background only growing closer. I realized that I couldn’t hear any engine noises and had yet to see any soldiers or guns pointed my way. This car looked old, really old, like one of those classic Volkswagen Beetles that collectors fought over at auctions. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a driver inside the murky, mold-smeared windows.
Because there wasn’t one.
Lightning arched across the sky overhead, and the car standing in front of me blinked.
Its headlights slid shut, as if little metal shades had crawled over the bulbs for a moment and flicked open again. Something about that movement was so primal, so real, so lifelike, that every ounce of self-control I had melted in an instant.
Cursing under my breath, I lunged into the shrubs, and the world erupted around me.
Under my shoes, the ground shook, and the car surged after me in a cacophony of ka-thumps that made my already racing heart skip several beats. A weather-beaten brown tow truck from the 50’s charged through the thorns to my left, it’s headlights ablaze, and a dilapidated yellow school bus rose from its hiding place in the weeds to stand tall on four down-turned axel-legs. They all flicked their headlights on like giants waking from their slumber, and as I dodged past them, they each blared their horn into the night in alarm.
My breaths came short and tight, my knee burned, and I crashed through thorns and briars without thought to how badly I was getting cut up.
The cheap poncho tore, and I ripped it away as it caught on a tree branch.
A purple 70’s Mustang shook off its blanket of creeping vines and bounded from a stand of trees just ahead, forcing me to swerve to avoid being run over, my adrenaline at all-time highs.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
Slipping and sliding, I pushed through a stand of multiflora rose, and stumbled out into a flat, dark expanse.
I almost skidded to a stop.
What had once been a rather large field stood no taller than my shoestrings, the grass charred, and burnt. The storm above illuminated huge pieces of wreckage that lay scattered over the nearly 40-acre plot, and I could just make out the fire-blackened hulk of a fuselage resting a hundred yards away. The plane had been brought down a while ago it seemed, as there weren’t any flames left burning, and I threw myself toward it in frenzied desperation.
Burned grass and greasy brown topsoil slushed underfoot, and I could hear the squelching of the cars pursing me. Rain soaked me to the bone, and my lungs ached from sucking down the damp night air. A painful stich crept into my side, and I cursed myself for not putting in more time for cardio at the gym.
Something caught my left shoelace, and I hurtled to the ground, tasting mud and blood in between my teeth.
They’ve got me now.
I clawed at the mud, rolled, and watched a tire slam down mere inches from where my head had been. The Mustang loomed over me and jostled for position with the red Volkswagen and brown tow truck, the school bus still a few yards behind them. They couldn’t seem to decide who would get the pleasure of stomping me to death, and like a herd of stampeding wildebeest, they locked bumpers in an epic shoving match.
On all fours, I scampered out from under the sparring brutes, and dashed for the crumpled airplane, a white-painted DC-3 that looked like it had been cut in half by a gargantuan knife blade. I passed a snapped wing section, the oily remains of a turbo-prop engine, and a mutilated wheel from the landing gear. Climbing over a heap of mud, I squeezed into the back of the ruined flight cabin and dropped down into the dark cargo hold.
Wham.
No sooner had my sneakers hit the cold metal floor, and the entire plane rocked from the impact of something heavy ramming it just outside. I tumbled to my knees, screaming in pain as, once again, I managed to bash the sore one off a bracket in the wall.
My hand smeared in something gooey, and I scrabbled for my flashlight.
It clicked on, a wavering ball of white light in the pitch darkness, and I fought the urge to gag. “Oh man . . .”
Three people, or what was left of them, lay strewn over the narrow cargo area. Claret red blood coated the walls, caked on the floor, and clotted under my mud-spattered shoes. Bits of flesh and viscera were stuck to everything, and tatters of cloth hung from exposed sections of broken bone. An eerie set of bloody handprints adorned the walls, and the only reason I could tell it had been three people were the shoes; all of them bore anklebones sticking out above blood-soaked socks. It smelled sickly sweet, a strange, nauseas odor that crept into my nose and settled on the back of my tongue like an alien parasite.
Something glinted in the beam of my flashlight, and my pulse quickened as I pried the object loose from the severed arm that still clung to it.
“Hail Mary full of Grace.” I would have grinned if it weren’t for the fact that the plane continued to buck and roll under the assault from the cars outside.
The pistol looked old, but well-maintained, aside from the light coating of dark blood that stained its round wooden handle. It felt heavy, but good in my hand, and I turned it over to read the words, Waffenfabrik Mauser stenciled into the frame, with a large red 9 carved into the grip. For some reason, it vaguely reminded me of the blasters from Star Wars.
I fumbled with a little switch that looked like a safety on the back of the gun and stumbled toward a gap in the plane’s dented fuselage to aim out at the surrounding headlights.
Bang.
The old gun bucked reliably in my hand, its long barrel spitting a little jet of flame into the night. I had no idea if I hit anything, but the attacking cars recoiled, their horns blaring in confusion.
They turned, and scuttled for the tree line as fast as their mechanical legs could go, the entire ordeal over as fast as it had begun.
Did I do that?
Perplexed, I stared down at the pistol in my hand.
Whoosh.
A large, inky black shadow glided down from the clouds, and the yellow school bus moved too slow to react in time.
With a crash, the kicking nightmarish vehicle was thrown onto its side, spraying glass and chrome trim across the muddy field. Its electro-synth horn blared with wails of mechanical agony, as two huge talon-like feet clamped down on it, and the enormous head of the flying creature lowered to rip open its engine compartment.
The horn cut out, and the enormous flying entity jerked its head back to gulp down a mass of what looked like sticky black vines from the interior of the shattered bus.
At this range, I could see now that the flying creature bore two legs and had its wings half-tucked like a vulture that had descended to feed on roadkill. Its head turned slightly, and in the glow of another lightning bolt, my jaw went slack at the realization of what it was.
A tree trunk. It’s a rotted tree trunk.
I couldn’t tell where the reptilian beast began, and where the organic tree components ended, the upper part of the head shaped like a log, while the lower jaw resembled something out of a dinosaur movie. Its skin looked identical to the outside of a shagbark hickory but flexed with a supple featheriness that denoted something closer to skin. Sharp branch-like spines ranged down its back, and out to the end of its tail, which bore a massive round club shaped like a diseased tree-knot. Crouched on both hind legs, it braced the hooked ends of its folded wings against the ground like a bat, towering higher than a semi-truck. Under the folds of its armored head, a bulging pair of chameleon-like eyes constantly spun in their sockets, probing the dark for threats while it ate.
One black pupil locked onto the window I peered through, and my heart stopped.
The beast regarded me for a moment, making a curious, sideways sniff.
With a proud, contemptful head-toss, the shadow from the sky parted rows of razor-sharp teeth to let out a roar that shook the earth beneath my feet. It was the triumphant war cry of a creature that sat at the very top of the food chain, one that felt no threat from the fragile two-legged beings that walked the earth all around it. It hunted whenever it wanted, ate whatever it wanted, and flew wherever it wanted. It didn’t need to rip the plane apart to devour me.
Like my hunter-gatherer ancestors from thousands of years ago, I wasn’t even worth the energy it would take to pounce.
I’m hiding in the remains of the cockpit now, which is half-buried under the mud of the field, enough to shield the light from my screen so that thing doesn’t see it. My service only now came back, and it’s been over an hour since the winged beast started in on the dead bus. I don’t know when, or how I’m going to get out of here. I don’t know when anyone will even see this post, or if it will upload at all. My phone battery is almost dead, and at this point, I’m probably going to have to sleep among the corpses until daylight comes.
A dead man sleeping amongst friends.
If you live in the Noble County area in southeastern Ohio, be careful where you drive, fly, and boat. I don’t know if it’s possible to stumble into this strange place by ground, but if so, then these things are definitely headed your way.
If that happens . . . pray that they don’t find you.

The Future is Officially Canceled.
Dee had read articles like this before. He couldn’t remember if the future had ever been officially canceled. But it had been canceled. Unofficially, perhaps. Hence the need to do it officially.
He skimmed the first few paragraphs …the slow cancellation of the future… …pop culture is eating itself… …imitators are imitating an imitation… The ‘slow cancellation’ theory was first flung around in the early twenty first century, on the hypothesis that if you played 1970s music to someone in the 1950s, it would blow their freaking mind. And if you played music from the 1990s to someone in the 1970s, their mind would be equally blown. But if you played music from the ‘10s to someone in the 1990s it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch. In fact, that person may even think they had heard some of it before. The same thing with music from the ‘30s to someone in the ‘10s or music from now to someone in the ‘30s. That person might conceivably think they were even listening to music from a previous decade. Pop culture had referenced itself so many times over, it was now just a copy of a copy of a copy. Degrading every time.
Dee looked down at the article's credit, Dennis Bagley, Editorial AI Operator. He knew it, AI. No wonder it read so familiar. He looked up at the various awards on his top shelf. Dee knew he was different. Better. His AI operating skills were the thing of accolades. The thing of applause. Just last week he and his AI processor picked up Gold in Effectology for their Just Poo It campaign for Charmin. And Silver in Originology for their The Ketchup In The Rye commercial for Pepsi-Heinz, about a young guy who gets kicked out of school and stays out all night trying to find a bottle of ketchup. He looked down at his processor and beamed. Its glowing red light beamed back at him.
They didn’t just stumble into that kind of effectiveness. Campaigns didn’t even get greenlit unless they scored ninety or above on the Effectology meter. He and his AI were usually hitting ninety twos or ninety threes, even a ninety five for Here’s To The Lazy Ones for Caspar mattresses. That campaign killed.
But Dee held himself to that higher calling, Originology. The metrics of original ideas. Sure, the AI did most of the work but Dee was able to tweak his processor to go way beyond the requisite twenty five percent Originology score. Together they were nailing figures in the forties, sometimes even peaking into the fifties. Scores that were head and shoulders above the rest of the department.
That’s how he could afford the sweet ‘18 Jordans Reissues on his feet. He curled his luxe Loewe headphone cable through his fingers and wrapped it around his neck like a scarf. He scoffed at a time when people didn’t think they needed a headphone cable. And imagined having nothing to twirl while listening to reinterpreted rock, nothing to wind around his fingers while he fed the processor. How many headphones must have been lost forever, just because they weren’t plugged in? Like everything else in pop culture, what went around came around, and, relatively recently, headphone cables had come back hard as the status symbol. Today, you didn’t just have to have a cable to be considered cool, you had to have the cable. It had to be thick as a rope, plated with rare metals, and covered in a fancy leather sheath from a chic brand like Gucci or Loewe.
Dee beamed as he thought of all the cool historical cultural knowledge he had amassed. Not just advertising history like the dweebs in the cubicles around him, but film history, fashion history, art history, music history. If it happened in culture, he knew about it. And he used it. That’s how he scored so high on the Originology meter. It made him feel almost like a real writer. Though he would never say that out loud. He imagined being like the old timers, upstairs. The un.ai.ded human writers, that clients would pay a serious premium for. Then he wouldn’t have to work on ketchup and toilet roll. He could have a crack at the big dogs, like Googlesoft, United American Airlines or DoritosLocosTacoBell. For now though, he’d have to stick with clients more becoming of his position. This morning’s task was to create a campaign for Pepsi-Crest. A toothpaste. Not super interesting. But he knew how to spice it up. Instead of letting his AI go back through decades of toothpaste ads just to pump out tired old crap like the It Cleans Your Face While it Cleans Your Teeth campaign that Mike Bey pitched last week, Dee mixed in a little fast food inspo from one of his favorite eras and found himself at the highly original and equally effective Where’s the Teeth? campaign. He was stunned by his own brilliance. He patted his processor and imagined it congratulating him back, then he programmed it to write an epic fifteen second anthem film and a suite of six second pre-roll spots, then sent it off to the CG department to render in time to air that night. Dee’s colleagues often asked him how he and his processor were so good at what they did. How their campaigns always scored so highly in both Effectology and Originology. They all used the same machine learning. It’s what the agency sold itself on. Never wanting to sound aloof; even though he was, or like he was tooting his own horn; even though he often did, he would merely say, “I like to pepper a bit of non advertising data in there. A little hint of me.” It was enough to provoke gasps and even make his colleagues take a step back or two, they had all been programmed to do just one task, feed the machine with advertising data. They couldn’t fathom diverging. “The AI should be enough,” was the general understanding. “The machine has better knowledge of advertising history than we do,” and “knows the ins and outs of Effectology better than we ever could.” It’s even been “scientifically programmed to exceed all expectation of Originology.” Dee couldn’t be swayed by any of the standard reactions. He would just smile, and casually amble off. Knowing full well he was beating the machine. He was a rebel in his own right. That afternoon, his section boss leaned over his cubicle. “Hullo Tara.” “Keep it formal please, colleague,” she scolded, “call me Antino. What do you look so ruddy chuffed about anyway?” “I just came up with a brilliant campaign for a very dull toothpaste. You’ll see it on The Comedy Central Reruns Channel tonight.” “Yes, well, an upstairs project is running behind and they’re calling on us down here to pull together some inspo decks, help jostle something loose in those tired old brains.” “Wouldn’t that make them not human-made? What are their clients paying all that money for?” “Loopholes, colleague, loopholes. As long as one of them humans writes the final line, it doesn’t matter how much AI they used to get there. “ “I could do that. I could do better than that. Did I tell you about my toothpaste campaign?” “Yes you did. Twice now. Must be good.” “It is.” “Well, here’s your chance for a peek into the real writer life. I’m deprioritizing your regular workload and prioritizing this inspo creation.” “Yeahhh!” Dee punched the air and freeze framed like he saw in an old movie. “The brief is for Fiat Maserati Jeep Dodge RAM. It’s a car. The Fiat Maserati Jeep Dodge RAM Unica. Like a fancy off-roader, you know what I mean? They wanna sell it to people in cities who don’t drive. More of a status symbol, you know what I mean? Like park it in front of your house so people will know you could go off-roading if you wanted to. Audience archetype is Moms. You getting this?” Dee finally broke his freeze frame but his mind was already whirring. “Yeah, I got it.” “Alright then. Bon chance.” Dee jumped into action, flipped up his AI processor’s screen and started cross referencing old Land Rover ads with The Rock movies, some Nora Ephron classics, Michelle Rodriguez’s character from all twenty eight Fast & Furious movies; even the fully CGI’d ones, the scene from Mrs Doubtfire when she’s playing the broomstick like a guitar, some Bikini Kill records, a memory of his own Mom making him wait in the car while she went shopping at Bergdorfs, a bunch of cool off-roading stuff from Top Gear and a painting of a car he’d always loved by Robert Bechtle. The machine spat out fifteen possible campaign inspo starters and Dee ran-walked them to the inspo courier in the office atrium. Before the day ended, a synthetic orchestra sounded through the building, \Pah pahhh, pah pa pah pa pah pahhh** and the employees were called into the atrium. Office meeting. As Dee strolled in, he caught the rare sight of the last few human copywriters lined up around the balcony above them. They applauded the downstairs employees, theatrically, motioning with their claps as they walked in and took seats, stood awkwardly or otherwise congregated.
There was a dramatic hush before one of the last true human copywriters finally spoke. “Great inspo. Thanks.” Wow. Each word, each letter, worth its weight in gold. That's probably why they used so few, thought Dee. “Yeah, really really good stuff.” Said another. “AI did this?” Said a third as she held the sheets of inspo out. “Some of the best inspo I’ve ever seen in all of my career.” Coughed the oldest and most regal sounding.
Dee squinted and peered up at them. Was that his inspo deck they were flashing around? Was this whole elaborate ceremony all to celebrate his AI operating? He didn’t know whether to be chuffed or anxious. Did they know he was cheating the system? Did they care? These are some of the last true human copywriters in history. They have, and are encouraged to have, the unique thought. Their work isn’t judged on how similar-without-being-exactly-the-same it is to existing campaigns. It’s judged on how different, how breakthrough, how stand out it is.
“It was me!” Dee blurted out. Quite uncharacteristically. He was usually so cool with the compliments. So coy with the recognition. His whole angle required it.
The other AI operators standing around him took their requisite step back, though this time it was less in awe, more in disgust. The air in the room stiffened. AI had ruled his department, and most of the industry, for so long that people didn’t speak up anymore. They just quietly fed the machine. And the machine took all the glory. Dee felt instant ostracism from the colleagues he had worked alongside for most of his career. He immediately questioned his outburst and retracted his ownership claim, knowing that his inspo deck would have been one of many.
“Some of it, at least. My AI, I mean. Processor.” He said. Sheepish this time. Back in his place.
The last few human copywriters smiled, nodded, bowed, gave final congratulations to all from high up on their balcony and then shuffled away in single file. All but one, Sir Coughing-Most-Regal. He slowly made his way down the grand staircase, into the atrium. A man leaving behind his usual pomp and circumstance, bringing his rare ability of unique thought into a crowd of imitation suppliers. As he reached the bottom step, he lost all of his royal air and seemed suddenly so vulnerable, walking among the regular folk. Most of Dee’s colleagues had already left, gone back to their metal masters, but Dee stayed. He knew this old man was coming to see him. He thought he might be in for a dressing down but he hoped it would be the opposite. He manifested that this titan of singular thought, the rare, unique idea, was coming to congratulate him.
“Freedkin.” The old man shoved out his hand. “Pleasure.” Dee shook it. “You say you programmed this inspo deck, yes?” He flapped the pages around. “Yes.” “Ruddy good work, let me tell you.” “Thank you.” “In all my years, since this artificial thinking thing came in, I’ve never read anything so good. Inspired me all over. I’ve been positively bursting with ideas since.” “Thank… you.” “AI wrote this you say?” “Yes.” “Ruddy good for AI. Never read anything so ruddy good. And you processed it?” “Yes.” “What’s your name son?” “Dee.” “Dee what?” “Palmer.” “Pleasure to meet you, Palmer. How much did you… influence it, the AI?” “How do you mean, sir?” “Call me Freedkin.” “How do you mean, Freedkin?” “I mean… how much of it is yours and how much is the machine’s?” Dee didn’t answer. He was looking for the angle. This old man surely didn’t value what AI does. He’s one of the last bastions of actual human creation. What was he getting at? Freedkin reoriented his question. “Mostly the machine or mostly you?” Dee thought he might have a kindred spirit here, in front of him, for the first time. He was going to take a risk. Recognizing a willingness to open up, Freedkin leaned in and spoke quietly. “Did you write this inspo or did the machine?” “I wrote it.” Dee postured. “All.” “Thought so. Good job. Our secret.” Freedkin winked. “Jolly good.” The next day, as he fed his AI little snippets of unexpected data, Dee noticed a hush come over his floor. The usual keyboard click, clack and grumble of inter-colleague banter were dead silent. All that was left was the processors’ harmonic hum. He lifted himself from his expensive ergonomic office chair and peered over his cubicle wall, spying across the sea of operators that made up the AI.ded Creativity department. A hunched figure at the opposite end of the bullpen sauntered from operator to operator, swilling a cup of coffee, looking in at each workstation. Giving a “hello” here, a nod there, even the odd salute. It was Freedkin. A real writer. Down here with the machine feeders. The other operators seemed afraid to go near him. Worried they might infect him with their inability. Dee had never seen a real writer in the operators’ bullpen. Freedkin, already old by industry standards, looked positively ancient in these surroundings. A sepia photograph in a technicolor world. Dee watched him, wondering if he should call out. He felt bound by social etiquette to not foist another outburst onto his peers. So he just watched, for a number of minutes, until Freedkin was close enough that his old eyes could make out Dee’s visage.
“Palmer!” Bingo. The two sat in Dee’s cubicle. Freedkin in the expensive office chair, as was fitting, and Dee on the wooden footstool. “For a short time we all worked from home. At the start of my career. For a short time.” “Everyone?” “Most. Not everyone, I suppose. But it was the thing to do. Was deemed more productive. Until it wasn’t. Then when this thing became the norm,” he tapped on Dee’s tiny AI processor, its red light glowed, “there was a sort of an office renaissance. I remember the bigwigs back then didn’t really want us using AI for ideas. Like it was giving in to the machine. We slowly got called back to the agency so they could keep an eye on our output. Keep it human, I suppose. That’s when the separation happened. In the end, the agency had to start using artificial thinking to keep up with demand. What are you lot churning out these days? Three campaigns a day? Four? We used to get a whole week to come up with one idea. After a while, of course, it got squeezed down to a couple of days. To the point where we needed the machine to keep up. Not long after, the bigwigs realized they could actually charge more off of the ‘human’ written stuff. Anyway, enough of the history lesson, what.” “It’s very interesting.” “Yes well, what I really came down here for,” Freedkin paused and looked around, “was some of that… good… inspo.” “I hear ya.” Dee poised his fingers over his keyboard and looked into the air like he was about to write something un.ai.ded, cocksure in his posture. “What’s this one about then?” “Watches. For Googlesoft. ‘Time,’ I was thinking, means so much, yet so little. Where does it all go? You know? How do we make more of it? Watches are time machines. See?” Dee’s posture sank. He thought of all that, by himself? No machine? He suddenly felt very ineffective. Unoriginal. He saw only the red glow from his little AI processor, staring back at him. Taking all the credit. He imagined it laughing with his colleagues in a bar while he sat at the other end of the table, ignored. He imagined it accepting awards by itself. He felt weak. He felt useless without it. It just glowed. “It kind of flows better… when I’m alone.” Dee nervously mumbled. “Right. Don’t say another word. Right you are. ‘Time.’ Remember. Where does it all go? Ok, I go. Ta-ta for now.
Dee looked down at his processor, apologetically. He quietly admonished himself before it until he felt forgiven. Then he typed in a weak initial prompt, all he could muster, write an advertising campaign about time.
The AI spat back a perfectly crafted campaign idea, line and film execution almost faster than Dee hit enter. The Best Things Come To Bros Who Wait. Dee immediately recognized it as a Guinness Surfers imitation. Tick followed tock followed tick followed tock. Its Effectology score clocked in well into the nineties. But its Originology score barely scraped by, just making it into ‘passable.’ Dee silently sneered at his surrounding coworkers. Any one of them would submit this as is and call it a day. It’d be rendered in minutes, deals made with celebrities’ CG likenesses under the hour, a revered AI voiceover and stunning synthetic music that would leave audiences lining up for these passively useful timepieces. But that wasn’t enough for Dee. That’s why he was who he was, goddamnit. Why Freedkin came to him. Him! Not Buton or Deytoro or Heckering. Him!
He added more detail to his prompt. Meaning of time. How to get time back. Time Machine. Back in time. Michael J Fox. Einstein (dog). Time Bandits. Timecop. Van Damme. Kyle Reece. Time displacement. Uhhh huhhh this felt good again. This was working. Dee and his processor were back in sync. As though they were one. Of course, as far as Freedkin knew, they were one. As Dee typed away, he imagined him and his AI coming together. Two heads. Better than one. He lost himself in his prompting and pictured his processor sitting on his shoulder, a second head, right there, next to his own. A tiny, metal appendage. Sleek, gray, with its glowing red light. And, for some reason, it was growing a little mustache. Dee and the mustached machine were completely lost in their work over the next few days. They hardly wrote any of their own campaigns. It was all inspo, inspo, inspo for Freedkin. The good stuff though, Viking Space Cruises, 1900 Tequila, Acne Studios. Each time, Dee and his processor were pretty much writing the entire thing. Freedkin hardly needed to change them at all. Just put his old world tone all over it. Add all of his extra words and ‘personality.’ Dee’s two heads were coming up with the best campaigns in the agency. And no one knew it. Except Freedkin. By now, his second head felt almost as big as his first. He could see it in his periphery. When he looked to the left, it looked back at him. It smiled sometimes. And that little freaking mustache was starting to freak Dee out. That night, Freedkin invited Dee for a couple of drinks with the other real human writers at the fanciest DoritosLocosTacoBell on the Westside. They didn’t even have to wait in line. Dee marveled at the size of the place, the expansiveness. It was packed. They were led through by the greeter to a private table at the back with a leather rope around it. He sat on the edge of the booth as the others ordered various flavors of Gatorade-aritas. When it got to Dee, he said he would have the same as Freedkin, which turned out to be a Frost Glacier Cherry-arita, the classiest -arita of all.
The writers’ conversation was mesmerizing. Every word that came out of their mouths was a unique thought. An opinion. A point of view. Dee tried to join in by recounting the narrative of various movies he had seen. The more obscure the better, attempting to interact at their level. While telling the story of Mick Jackson’s Threads to Bigelo, he could feel her searching for a point of view or an opinion in what he was saying, but he couldn’t stir one. If only he had his processor right now. Its red light glowed comfortingly in his mind. He missed it. Slowly, the other writers left. Dee couldn’t help but think he had something to do with it. He was feeling so inadequate by the time everyone but Freedkin had gone that he just sat quietly and half-smiled at him. Both of them were five or six Gatorade-aritas deep, slumped in their private booth. “Do you like what you do?” Asked Freedkin. “I love it.” “Do you really?” “I don’t know.” “I hate what I do. But I’m good at it. Do you want to know the secret, Palmer? The secret to what we do?” Dee couldn’t do anything but smile a little bigger to communicate his response. Freedkin paused for dramatic effect. “If you love advertising, you shouldn’t work in advertising.” Did Dee love advertising? He didn’t even know. He knew he knew advertising. “You think your audience loves advertising? You think they want to see your tribute to that Googlesoft spot that was an imitation of an Apple spot that was inspired by a Brett Morgen film? No! They just want to see the Brett Morgen film! They don’t want to see your thing at all!” Dee slumped further down. “But if you’re lucky,” Freedkin continued, “if you’re really lucky, and you show them something they’ve never seen before, because you hate advertising too and you just wanted to make something that made you feel something, if they feel that same feeling, you’ve got gold. But you can only get to gold by summoning all of your experiences outside of advertising. You can’t just try to make the Nike of pimple commercials. You have to make the Palmer of pimple commercials. Do you see? That’s the problem with your AI. Your machine.”
The red light flashed again in Dee’s mind. Awakened by Freedkin’s heresy.
“The best AI will ever do is just show you a better version of something you’ve seen before. They call that effective? The numbers can say whatever they want them to, all they’re really doing is pasting wallpaper on top of wallpaper on top of wallpaper. Until eventually the audience ignores it completely. But you’re different Palmer. You and I are different. Different is what sells. I had a word with Simmons up on six. She’s agreed to give you a trial period on the human floor. At my behest. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her you were already thinking for yourself. I just told her you had the potential to. You start tomorrow. Trial period. Tonight was about the other humans meeting you. I can’t tell you that they’re not skeptical. But they’re open to it. For me. What do you think?” Dee was nervous. He got off the elevator at the operators’ bullpen without even thinking about it. He walked all the way to the atrium and up the grand staircase to the human writers’ floor, instead of getting back on the elevator. He took each step steadily, taking it all in. He felt like a tourist. Like he was borrowing an identity. He imagined he was a young Freedkin and tried to put a confident stride in his step. It didn’t work. He put his hand in his pocket and felt for his AI processor. His second head. Mustached. He couldn’t turn it on because, as everyone knew, AI wasn’t allowed upstairs, in case the agency got audited. The cost consultants would be all over a human writing department that used artificial ideation. They’d be shut down. At the very least, they would lose their Un.AI.ded AI.dvertising license. The only reason for charging such a premium. Dee ran his hand along the balcony rail. He’d only ever seen it from downstairs, from the non-human thinkers’ floor. He walked from the balcony to the human writer’s work area. It was the exact opposite of what he was used to. No sea of cubicles. No click clack. No mechanized productivity. No hum. Just couches, writing desks and quiet.
“Morning.” Whistled Freedkin. “How are we?” “We?” “You.” “Wish I hadn’t drunk so much.” “Ohh, I know. Think of it as an initiation. Nothing wrong with it. Takes your mind off the job. Stops you from thinking for a minute. You need that after everything you’ve been pumping out. All that gold, that is.” “Right.” “Right. Well. Set yourself up wherever you like. First brief is for Coca-Cola. A new water! The freshest water they’ve ever sold, so they say. Tap Clear” Dee wandered over to a small writing desk and put his touchscreen down. He unraveled his headphone cable and felt for his processor in his pocket. When he found it, he rubbed it like a lamp, wishing for a genie. A couple of human writers who’d been deep in concentration when he first walked in, had been disturbed by his arrival. He didn’t recognize them from last night. They glared at him as he set himself up. He smiled in their general direction. They continued to glare. “Big Jim.” Whispered Freedkin. “Him and his team have been here three days straight, on a pitch. Don’t worry about them. They’re just under tremendous stress. This human work really takes it out of you, you know? ” Dee turned and sat with his back to them. He powered up his touchscreen and put his headphones on, draping his Loewe headphone cable around his neck and shoulders. He hovered his fingers over his keyboard, expecting ideas to come. Nothing. He skimmed the brief. Still nothing. He read the brief. Not a thing. A few of the other writers strolled in. Dee watched them find a workspace, sit down, start writing. One of them even used a pen! Dee loved this whole lifestyle. Turn up for work whenever, spout genius, have lunch, sell some billion dollar ideas, have a cocktail. The thought of it all spurred him on. He hovered his fingers over his keyboard again and braced himself for the idea flow. Nothing came. Nothing. All morning. His mind was blank. It felt like it was getting blanker. He couldn’t believe it. Even half thoughts were swimming away from him. Impossible to catch. Even just individual words. Gone. By the afternoon Dee was starting to freak out. He felt like an imposter. “Freedkin,” he hissed, “I can’t think. I can’t come up with anything.” “It takes time, my boy. Days. I told you, before we used to even have weeks…” “But my brain’s not working at all. It won’t… generate… anything.” “Relax your brain. Relax yourself.” “But Freedkin… Freedkin,” he hissed again, “I didn’t write any of that stuff. It was AI. All of it. No… I mean… I helped… but it wasn’t all me.” “Ok… hold on… boy… be careful. That kind of talk will get you killed around here. Try and make it to the end of the day. Try just writing some things down. Some thoughts. Some words. And if you still feel the same tomorrow, I’ll let the brass know it wasn’t for you. No harm.” Dee’s eyes hardened. “Do you hear me, Palmer?” Dee rubbed his temples. “Listen, this affects both of us. Yes, you, but also me… for recommending you. I’ll be out… Think!” Freedkin distanced himself. Hoping it would quell the panic. Dee stared at nothing for as long as he could. An hour, at most. Just stared. No thoughts came. No words. A blank screen. So he slipped his hand in his pocket, held his AI processor warmly, and turned it on. Instantly, an alarm sounded. “What's going on here, Freedkin?” Skewered Big Jim. “Is this your kid? What’s the big idea? Is he working for the machines? What is he…trying to infiltrate us? I can’t have this. I’ve got a family. I can’t be out of a job.” “It’s just a misunderstanding, Jim. He’ll be leaving now.” “No he won’t. Get back here, kid.” Big Jim grabbed at Dee’s shirt. Dee squirmed and tried to push him away. Big Jim got a hand on his neck instead, as some of the other writers tried to grab his arms. Dee instinctively swung his fists around. He got one of the writers, Bigelo, square in the eye. She roared “He’s blinded me!” Big Jim picked him up by his neck. Dee choked. He grabbed his touchscreen and swung it. The edge caught Big Jim on the side of the head. Big Jim dropped him and screamed. Freedkin put a hand on Big Jim’s shoulder. Big Jim swung his fist around and slammed it into Freedkin’s nose. Dee tried to slip away but Big Jim, raging, grabbed his headphone cable and dragged him back, winding the cable around his neck to try and hold on to him with it. The other writers stepped back as Dee kicked around in a panic. He got one of the writers in the stomach and another in the back. The headphone cable slipped out of Big Jim’s hands. Dee reached out for anything he could grab onto. He found a desk leg and pulled himself away from the melee as the gang of writers got him by his feet. They pulled off his Jordans and he crawled away as fast as he could, out of the writers’ area and onto the balcony. The writers caught up with him. He swung the few punches he could muster. He cracked one writer on the cheekbone as another reached for his headphone cable, wrapping it around the balcony rail to stop him from getting even further away. Big Jim steamed in, bleeding from his head, and slammed into Dee, launching him into the air with his sheer force. Dee reached for the rail but it slipped under him as he toppled over into the open atrium, between the floors. He felt a snap as the headphone cable went taut around his neck. A colleague standing in the atrium shrieked. Dee kicked his legs and wriggled about, trying to slip out. He clawed his hands around the cable and tried to loosen it but it just got tighter and tighter. He looked up to see the human writers peering down. Not helping. He could feel his consciousness slipping away. He looked to his left to see his second head staring straight back at him. As he hung, he could feel the metal head growing, exponentially, until it popped off, hit the ground and shattered. Shiny gray liquid metal spilled all over the floor and splashed up the walls. Its red light glowing all over as the metal spread around the room. Once it had flooded the entire atrium it enveloped Dee’s mind. And he was gone. The agency left his body hanging there for two days. They blamed it on a lack of janitorial availability. Everything in the office was automated, and cutting down a dead body wasn’t something their sanitation robots had been programmed to do. But, deep down, everyone knew that it was a message. That they should stay in the roles they had been assigned. So they did. So they wouldn’t end up like Dee.