(This isn’t really the beginning to anything in particular, just something I wrote a couple of months back as a sort of warm-up before delving into PG. I liked it, though, so I now I share it with you.)

Alison Venture was a badass.

At least that’s what she liked to tell herself. In her more private moments, when she was in an introspective mood, she knew that this was less than true.

Her badassness — or badassitude, if you will — was actually a front, a cloak she would don when she was working. It allowed her to face all the nastiness and evil — human and otherwise — in the world, and overcome it. But underneath it, she was just a nervous and mildly self-conscious 24 year old girl.

As she hung upside down, wrists and ankles bound, over a grated pit of alligators, it occurred to her that her current line of thought was probably not the best or most conducive to her survival.

So the cloak went back on.

“Look,” she said. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you, but I’m starting to get a little bored. And my head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. Is there any chance that you might just get this over with already and kill me?”

The old man puttering around her prison chuckled, a phlegmy sound. “Oh, you are quite funny. I know my pets will enjoy your sense of humor as they rip you apart and devour you.”

Well, this is interesting.

It seems that two guys by the name of Elton Jaundice and Cornelius Talmadge — and who are in no way whatsoever myself and Nate — have launched a web site called There Are Four Lights, where they are posting something called “Star Trek Interludes.”

The site appears to have started up last summer some time, but didn’t actually start updating till last month. Jaundice attempted to explain what was going on, though he was a bit cagey and mysterious about it:

Starting tomorrow, the sordid tales that bear the moniker“”Star Trek Interludes””will begin to make their way to the Web for your filthy enjoyment. Assuming I am not incarcerated, a new Interlude should be posted to the tune of once a week, most likely on Wednesday or Thursday. There is a vast archive of Interludes, some quite old, so this endeavor should be able to proceed for some time. Tomorrow’s is fittingly themed around the tired “holiday” of St. Patrick’s Day still celebrated by the ignorant masses.

Also: my cohort, Mister Cornelius Talmadge, will not be posting any of the Interludes for the foreseeable future, even though many of them were written by him. The reasons are various and sundry, but mostly revolve around the fact that his current whereabouts are unknown. My sincerest hope is that, much like myself, he is simply living “off the grid,”” so to speak, and is in good health and spirits. Still, doubts as to his safety linger, as the last time anyone saw him was well before Hallowe’en, by a bartender at a pub Rio de Janeiro.

He goes on for a bit longer, but it’s a little convoluted, so if you want to read more, I suggest you visit the site.

A new Interlude went up earlier today. Here is a brief excerpt:

(Recovered from the Hello Kitty diary of Cornelius Talmadge.)

“I got dem blues,” wailed Worf. “I got dem Tactical monitoring, Picard bossin’-around blues. I got dem –”

“Shut up, Worf!” shouted Picard. “I swear by everything holy that I’ll hang your sorry Klingon ass on my wall if you don’t shut the fuck up now!”

“Sorry, sir. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your little sissy parade.”

“That’s it.” Picard stood up and ran to the viewscreen. He turned, and performed a Super-Twisty Flying Kick. He sailed through the air, finally impacting into Worf’s face.

“Augh! There’s a rock in your shoe!” Worf began to cry.

Picard put his hand on Worf’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“You didn’t have to kick me so hard.”

“Look, let’s go play Parise Squares in the holodeck.”

“Really?” Worf looked up.

“Yep. We can even knock out Riker and use him for target practice.”

“Hey!” Riker yelled.

“Thanks.”

“Anything for my Number One friend.”

Eh, this one was pretty good. There are better ones, however — at least in my opinion — over at the site. Overall, I’d say the whole endeavor seems promising.

Looks like they also have a Facebook page dedicated to the Interludes. I decided to throw them a bone and joined it. Because I’m a nice guy.

The water cascading down from the chrome shower head in harsh streams was hot, painful in a strange but pleasant way, and made her skin feel nearly numb. She enjoyed the sensation.

After several more minutes of this, she twisted the hot water handle to OFF. The searing water quickly turned became frigid, and even though she was expecting it, still hit her like a slap in the face from Jack Frost. She gritted her teeth against the unpleasantness, enduring it for thirty seconds that felt like thirty minutes, and at last shut off the water.

Such was her regular showering routine, and had been for years, since the time her training had begun up on the mountain, in that cabin with no electricity. She’d despised it at first, but after several weeks of shivering under the freezing-cold water, she’d become used to it.

Now, she still just barely tolerated it, but could appreciate the immediate call to alertness it provided.

Yeah, I’m still here. Been taking a break from the blog somewhat, keeping busy and trying to get past this block on Thirty Well Spent. It’s like a wall went up between me and the story I’m trying to tell. Very fucking annoying. But I think I’ve overcome it, for the most part. I wrote a new Prologue earlier today, something completely new that I’m very satisfied with. This in turn lead to a renewed take on Chapter One, which I made some significant headway on.

Thought I’d share with you the new Prologue. Bear in mind that this is only a rough draft, so don’t feel obliged to point out every little niggling error you find. Though I’m sure some of you will.

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I finished a story recently entitled “The Last Echo of Humanity.” It’s a much-improved redo of an older story of mine, one that was called “Rebirth.” Like writing articles for a newspaper, with short stories one has to come up with a strong opening paragraph to grab the reader’s interest, ’cause if that first paragraph is boring, the read will move onto something else. Admittedly, I’m guilty of this sometimes. I think I came up with a pretty nifty intro paragraph (ack — cue the unpleasant flashback to WSU’s basic English classes) for “Last Echo”:

The rum had long-since stopped burning his throat, he idly realized as he took another huge swallow from the bottle, right before he put his fist through the face of the Mona Lisa. The poplar wood shredded his knuckles. He only abstractly felt the throbbing in his hand, filtered as it was by his drunken haze. It only served to make him angrier. He wanted to feel something, anything to break him from the unyielding torpor that he’d been in for the past few millennia — even if that something was just pain.

What do you guys think?

JAB

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According to the Sun, Michael J. Fox wants to do another Back to the Future installment:

The actor, who suffers from Parkinson’s disease, admits he’s keen to make a final film in the series – but only if they make his character as old as he is in real life.

The former Spin City star wants to take over from Christopher Lloyd’s eccentric scientist character, Doc Brown, in the sequel.

He tells movie website Moviehole.net: “The only way it would work would be if I played Doc.

“I’m 44-years-old now and I’m not interested in running around on skateboards!

“I think after 1, 2 and 3 we all kind of felt we had done it.

“And I think if they did it again now they would do it with a younger cast and just do a different realization of it, which would be fun.”

Man, a new Back to the Future movie. That could be cool, but I’d have a few reservations about it. Even though I’d go see it in a heartbeat, it makes me wonder: is another one really necessary? I mean, the first three films perfectly captured the heart of the story. It had a beginning, middle and end, with everything resolving happily in BotF III. (I don’t count the Back to the Future ride at Universal Studios.) Adding another movie to the series might just, I dunno, be weird and throw off the dynamic of the original trilogy. I would hate, hate, for BotF IV to ruin the original trilogy for me the way the new Star Wars trilogy single-handedly annihilated my love for Star Wars and its original trilogy.

Also, having Michael J. Fox take over the Doc Brown character? I just can’t really see Marty “What the hell is a jigawatt?” McFly as any type of scientist. He wanted to be a rockstar for God’s sake! He wouldn’t go to college, let alone spend the time in school to get a doctorate. Marty as a political adviser to the President, or as a hip L.A. doctor, now that I could visualize. Besides, I liked Christopher Lloyd too much as Doc Brown. He was awesome. And can you imagine them trying to find another DeLorean? Inconceivable!

To illustrate my point, I’ll give you a snippet of what a Back to the Future IV might be like, sans Doc Brown:

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I posted a short story on Sam Walton’s myspace the other day — generously maintained by Brandon — and I thought I’d repost it here for your enjoyment.

Like seemingly every new horror movie coming out this year, the following is only loosely based on a “true story” and in no way should indicate that I maintain a friendship with Sam Walton.

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I just finished — and by “just finished” I mean about four hours ago — hanging up my new 2005 “Get Fuzzy” Calendar. It’s pretty badass. Anyway, the process of doing this gave me a wonderful idea for a home improvement TV show that could be on HGTV, or maybe Comedy Central or FOX. Shows like “Trading Spaces,” “Room by Room, “Clean Sweep,” and other crap I don’t know about. So now, I present you herewith for your enjoyment, “The Hammer Chronicles with Josh Bales”:

The Hammer Chronicles — TEASER

Wide shot of a beautiful ranch-style home. A middle-aged couple is standing in front of the house.

JOSH (voice over): “Next time on the ‘Hammer Chronicles with Josh Bales,’ I’ll take you into the home of the Smiths. Thomas and Rebecca, a couple from Salt Lake City, Utah, are having a problem — one that can only be solved with the Hammer!”

Full-length of Thomas sitting in a hardback chair and being interviewed.

THOMAS: “It was pretty bad. Rebecca got me a full-length portrait of Brigham Young for my birthday and, well, we just had no idea where to put it. We tried to hang it over our bed, but it just didn’t seem to fit…um, the ‘mood’ I guess. Then we tried to put it in the dining room, at the head of the table, but it kept making our youngest, Deseret, cry. So after that, we were just stymied.” (smiles) “Fortunately, the Lord answered our prayers and sent us Josh.”

Cut to Josh standing outside the home, in the shade of a tree.

JOSH: “Brigham Young? Who the **BLEEP** puts up a portrait of Brigham Young?” (a muffled voice speaks) “Oh. Yeah, Mormons, I suppose.” (pauses) “**BLEEP**, we’re filming, aren’t we?”

Tracking shot of Josh and the Smiths as they lead him through their house to a gigantic framed portrait leaning against a gun rack.

REBECCA: “Isn’t it just wonderful?”

JOSH: “Oh my.”

JOSH (v.o.): “With my trusty hammer in hand, I’ll help Thomas and Rebecca select the right nail for the job.”

Josh is sitting in the kitchen, digging through a large selection of miscellaneous nails piled on the linoleum.

THOMAS (holding up a two-inch nail): “What about this one?”

JOSH: “No, no… Where are the big ones? The gutter nails?”

THOMAS: “Won’t those be a little too big?”

JOSH: “Guess we’ll find out, eh?”

JOSH (v.o.): “Then we’ll test out several locations, but some…”

Josh warily ‘admires’ a toothpick-model Tabernacle at the forefront of the living room, setting on top of a table. Next to the model are a crucified Jesus statue and some type of holy book.

JOSH: “Wow, that’s a nice altar you have here.”

REBECCA: “Oh, are you a Mormon?”

JOSH (shaking his head): “Close. I’m a Pagan.”

REBECCA (eyes wide): “Oh. That’s…nice.”

JOSH (cont’d, v.o.): “…are going to be ruled out for various reasons.”

Wide-shot of Josh and the Smiths standing in the kitchen. Josh is tapping his hammer against his hand.

THOMAS: “How about the kitchen?”

JOSH: “How about the garage.”

REBECCA: “…the garage?”

JOSH: “Exactly! That way, when you pull into the garage after work, then BAM — there’s Brigham glaring — I mean staring right at you.”

THOMAS: “We don’t own a car — we ride our bicycles everywhere.”

JOSH: “Oh.”

Cut to a far shot, and then zoom in on Josh sitting upon a step on the Smiths’ front porch, smoking a cigarette.

JOSH (v.o.): “Where will the portrait of Brigham Young finally rest? Find out next time on ‘The Hammer Chronicles with Josh Bales.’ “