Post by Acrimony on Oct 23, 2018 11:47:52 GMT -8
An unrecognizable song is pours from a man lips as he whistles. A rather upbeat tune, normally used to pass the time while working away at some menial task.
The scene fades in.
An old man flips a feather duster across a collection of vintage cameras. Ever so cautiously, he cleans every speck of dust from each lens. Around the room are several photographs. Some are framed, some simply stuck into the corner of a mirror behind a counter. Uncountable quantities of assorted film adorn the wall behind the counter. The man continues about his chore much like he does everyday. Until a noise surprises him. The sound of someone actually coming into his shop. As the door swings open, a small bell atop the door acts to alert all in side the company has arrived. The man pauses before turning around. The creaking of the old wooden floor becomes louder with every footstep of his newest patron. Appearing more annoyed than impressed, he simply speaks over his shoulder without even looking at the guest.
"In case your wondering…we don’t sell any of them digital cameras."
His statement is followed by a moment of silence. Eventually, he turns around to see if the person even heard him. A bit closer than expected, he finds a man. The individual appears more like a street person than a customer. Obviously unwashed hair is tied in a knot behind the man’s head. His arms are adorned with enough ink to fill a volume of encyclopedias. A scraggly beard grows thicker near his chin as to lead the old man to believe that a goatee once resided there. This man is Acrimony./color]
"I am not looking for a digital camera."
"Oh, sorry. All these kids these days, all they want is digital. Then the tourists, we get a lot of those here on Hollywood Boulevard, ya know. Anyway, how can I help you?"
Acrimony glances around the room, just to insure that the two are truly alone.
"You develop pictures, right?"
"Yep…of course, this is a camera shop."
"I mean YOU develop them, you don’t send them off to a lab or anything…right?"
"I think that I have some chemicals left, why ….er are you asking anyway?"
"CAN YOU DO IT OR NOT?!"
"Well sure I can do it…. But it will take a while, Walmart can do it in an hour."
"I don’t think Walmart will develop these."
Acrimony looks at the man in a “Don’t ask too many questions” glance.
"Its a lot cheaper at Walmart."
Obvious by his tone, the old man wants nothing to do with the suspicious patron. But, curiosity soon prevails.
"Its not any of that kiddie porn or anything is it?"
His question is met by an irritated gaze.
"Hey…I have to ask these things. Its not just everyday someone wants “Secret Developing”."
"When can you have them done? One print, two sets of negatives….ONLY TWO SETS OF NEGATIVES!"
"When ya need them?"
"Tomorrow."
"No problem, twelve exposures will cost you about six dol…"
"Here is fifty, keep your mouth shut!"
Acrimony hands the prized canister of film to the old man and sticks a fifty in his shirt pocket. As he turns to walk away, he picks up a candy bar from a small display beside the counter. Just before opening it, he decides that if the old man only spent as much time cleaning the dust off the candy as he did on his cameras, he might sell one every now and then. Acrimony tosses the candy bar back into the box and walks out the door.
"Weirdo."
The scene fades.
After a few seconds, the scene fades back in.
Night has now fallen on the City of Angels. A large neon sign illuminates the area in front of a small bar called “Fat Tuesday’s”. For every one person going inside the bar, two come stumbling out, most in a drunken stupor. Two young men in their mid twenties exit the bar and stagger down the sidewalk. As they laugh and joke between them they hear something. They stop to determine where the noise is coming from.
"Over here…hey….over here."
The two look at each other. Then, they peer into a darkened alley beside the bar. They take a couple of steps into the alley. From the shadows, the voice is again heard.
"Hit me!"
With a shocked look on their faces, they exchange glances.
"What…are you some kind of idiot or something?"
"I said, I want you to hit me….both of you."
"Dude….I am not going to hit you…are you drunk or something? God, you smell like death or something. I will give ya a buck for a bottle of mouthwash but I'm not gonna hit you."
"I said hit me you son of a bitch, both of you! If you don’t they will find you both here in the morning."
"Man…I am not gonna do that…"
"Ok….your mother is a whore!"
"Hey man…don’t talk about my mother like tha…"
The strange mans tone becomes a bit more agitated.
"Your father is a crackhead and your mother a whore….oh yeah, and the Dodgers suck!"
Instantly, our dynamic duo spring into action. Fist and elbows fly.
"That’s it fellas….let it all out….ummph, there ya go….hey…ugghhh, don’t forget the face!"
The beating goes on for several minutes. The shadows of the men can be seen as they pummel the stranger in the alley. Finally, the not so mysterious fellow goes to the ground. All the while, he continues coaching the two on where to strike next. Finally, the two have had enough and step away. Both men shake their hands as if they may have broken something. They look over their shoulder at the alley and shake their heads in disgust.
"Weirdo!"
From the alley, a faint voice is heard. Through labored breath…
"Pussies!"
The scene fades.
The scene fades in.
An old man flips a feather duster across a collection of vintage cameras. Ever so cautiously, he cleans every speck of dust from each lens. Around the room are several photographs. Some are framed, some simply stuck into the corner of a mirror behind a counter. Uncountable quantities of assorted film adorn the wall behind the counter. The man continues about his chore much like he does everyday. Until a noise surprises him. The sound of someone actually coming into his shop. As the door swings open, a small bell atop the door acts to alert all in side the company has arrived. The man pauses before turning around. The creaking of the old wooden floor becomes louder with every footstep of his newest patron. Appearing more annoyed than impressed, he simply speaks over his shoulder without even looking at the guest.
"In case your wondering…we don’t sell any of them digital cameras."
His statement is followed by a moment of silence. Eventually, he turns around to see if the person even heard him. A bit closer than expected, he finds a man. The individual appears more like a street person than a customer. Obviously unwashed hair is tied in a knot behind the man’s head. His arms are adorned with enough ink to fill a volume of encyclopedias. A scraggly beard grows thicker near his chin as to lead the old man to believe that a goatee once resided there. This man is Acrimony./color]
"I am not looking for a digital camera."
"Oh, sorry. All these kids these days, all they want is digital. Then the tourists, we get a lot of those here on Hollywood Boulevard, ya know. Anyway, how can I help you?"
Acrimony glances around the room, just to insure that the two are truly alone.
"You develop pictures, right?"
"Yep…of course, this is a camera shop."
"I mean YOU develop them, you don’t send them off to a lab or anything…right?"
"I think that I have some chemicals left, why ….er are you asking anyway?"
"CAN YOU DO IT OR NOT?!"
"Well sure I can do it…. But it will take a while, Walmart can do it in an hour."
"I don’t think Walmart will develop these."
Acrimony looks at the man in a “Don’t ask too many questions” glance.
"Its a lot cheaper at Walmart."
Obvious by his tone, the old man wants nothing to do with the suspicious patron. But, curiosity soon prevails.
"Its not any of that kiddie porn or anything is it?"
His question is met by an irritated gaze.
"Hey…I have to ask these things. Its not just everyday someone wants “Secret Developing”."
"When can you have them done? One print, two sets of negatives….ONLY TWO SETS OF NEGATIVES!"
"When ya need them?"
"Tomorrow."
"No problem, twelve exposures will cost you about six dol…"
"Here is fifty, keep your mouth shut!"
Acrimony hands the prized canister of film to the old man and sticks a fifty in his shirt pocket. As he turns to walk away, he picks up a candy bar from a small display beside the counter. Just before opening it, he decides that if the old man only spent as much time cleaning the dust off the candy as he did on his cameras, he might sell one every now and then. Acrimony tosses the candy bar back into the box and walks out the door.
"Weirdo."
The scene fades.
After a few seconds, the scene fades back in.
Night has now fallen on the City of Angels. A large neon sign illuminates the area in front of a small bar called “Fat Tuesday’s”. For every one person going inside the bar, two come stumbling out, most in a drunken stupor. Two young men in their mid twenties exit the bar and stagger down the sidewalk. As they laugh and joke between them they hear something. They stop to determine where the noise is coming from.
"Over here…hey….over here."
The two look at each other. Then, they peer into a darkened alley beside the bar. They take a couple of steps into the alley. From the shadows, the voice is again heard.
"Hit me!"
With a shocked look on their faces, they exchange glances.
"What…are you some kind of idiot or something?"
"I said, I want you to hit me….both of you."
"Dude….I am not going to hit you…are you drunk or something? God, you smell like death or something. I will give ya a buck for a bottle of mouthwash but I'm not gonna hit you."
"I said hit me you son of a bitch, both of you! If you don’t they will find you both here in the morning."
"Man…I am not gonna do that…"
"Ok….your mother is a whore!"
"Hey man…don’t talk about my mother like tha…"
The strange mans tone becomes a bit more agitated.
"Your father is a crackhead and your mother a whore….oh yeah, and the Dodgers suck!"
Instantly, our dynamic duo spring into action. Fist and elbows fly.
"That’s it fellas….let it all out….ummph, there ya go….hey…ugghhh, don’t forget the face!"
The beating goes on for several minutes. The shadows of the men can be seen as they pummel the stranger in the alley. Finally, the not so mysterious fellow goes to the ground. All the while, he continues coaching the two on where to strike next. Finally, the two have had enough and step away. Both men shake their hands as if they may have broken something. They look over their shoulder at the alley and shake their heads in disgust.
"Weirdo!"
From the alley, a faint voice is heard. Through labored breath…
"Pussies!"
The scene fades.
