Dead & Buried - DivX Version (Normal Quality), iPod/iPhone Version
|
IMDB rating: 6.50 Plot: Potters Bluff, Rhode Island. may seem to be a sleepy little town. At least for the casual visitor and the local sheriff, Daniel Gillis. However, all of a sudden, there are a lot of strange murders where strangers or people passing through are killed by mobs of townspeople. Only Sheriff Gillis has no clue to what’s going on. Fortunately, the town has an excellent undertaker, William G. Dobbs, who is happy to take care of this sudden death-wave which is good for his business. Gillis soon discovers clues that lead to many of the local inhabitants involved in the killings, including his own wife Janet. |
Available versions:
DivX Version (Normal Quality), iPod/iPhone Version
Actors: Farentino James,Albertson Jack,Redfield Dennis,Englund Robert,Quinn Bill,Currie Michael,Allport Christopher,Allport Christopher,Medalis Joseph G.,McCalman Macon,Horror,Mystery,
Critique story? Just made for fun, not seriously.?
Fiction:
I met him in Science.
"Einstein sure had a brain," he said in what I thought was a German accent.
"Yeah."
"Bill Gates has a big one, too."
"Yeah."
"Stephen Hawking."
"You really like Science, don’t you?"
"No, I just look up to those guys for their brains. The way they think, you know? I guess I just value intelligence," he smiled.
"I’m not really the person to talk to then."
"Oh, but you have Steve Urkle on your binder."
"You’re drooling," I pointed out.
"Yeah, I’m just hungry. Cool binder, though."
"Alex Pardee did that."
"Yeah, I know the name. I’m an artist."
"Me too. I don’t know anyone else that comes to class so late with so many excuses and hasn’t been marked absent."
"Yeah, I like to paint. You should see my car."
"You painted your car?"
He smiled crookedly as the bell rang.
"Well, I guess it’s time for lunch."
I was fixated on him the moment I entered the cafeteria. He sat there talking about rap music with his friends. Their mannerisms isolated them from the other kids in the school. The moment he caught me looking at him I felt my cheeks turn into flame at the intensity of his gaze.
I saw a lot of myself in him. He had bags beneath his eyes that suggested some intense insomnia. Other than that, his face was a clawed as a homeless mans after a few bar fights. Stitches traced every outline of his pale, dry skin. He made Michael Jackson look tan. I bet a planet eons away spotted him in the sky and referred to him as their own constellation for the way he glowed. I remember rumors circulating around the school about a family that moved from the slums of Detroit.
He asked if I wanted to hang out Saturday.
I didn’t see why not, so I accepted.
I forgot I had to babysit that night and didn’t answer the door.
Not really.
I called him. We were took our turns inquiring about each other casually, building up comfort, and exchanging jokes. By the end of the call, silence found it’s way in.
"Oh, are you still there?"
"Sorry, you had me in stitches," he said, as the sound of static popping in the background distorted his voice. Did his stitches really break off?
"I guess."
"It was the card joke….the one about the spades"
"Oh."
"Can’t say I like spades much," he mused, more to himself than anything.
"Cool?"
He showed up Saturday just as planned.
It was the typical clunker from the 80’s that had a dented door that most parents, despite popular teen movies where the teens have new cars, give their teens when they’re learning to drive. The only thing about this car is that it was originally a bright neon green, but now it had red splatter paint all over it. It looked like something fat rolled up and died on it.
I stared at his car and just asked, "Why?"
"I thought it came out nice."
"I don’t think you did," I mumbled.
"What was that?"
"Hm?"
His car stank. I thought it was rotting.
"You got something in the back there dying?" I joked.
"Probably just roadkill," he smiled. "So, the park, or the movies?"
"I’ll flip a coin. You call it."
"Oh, I’m pretty satisfied with heads."
We ended up on the swings at the park.
After jumping off, we looked at the stars, and he said, "You know, I’ve really felt some amazing things the last few weeks with you."
"Show me your tongue!"
"What?!"
"I want to see if the Razzles kicked in."
"I’m not going to show you my tongue."
He did anyway.
"Yeah, you can put it back in now."
It looked like stone.
He took my hand and I thought stroking sandpaper would be softer.
"Oh, yeah, sometimes the playground makes my hand crusty and red," he said, as he caught my expression. "Dry skin."
"Mhm."
We went back to the car both intoxicated by the evening’s events. He was articulate, appreciated intelligence, was humble, and mature. He was everything I wanted in anyone. I was too dumbfounded by how amazing he was to really think or talk coherently. I stumbled opening the door for a few minutes.
"Sorry, I’m so Razzle-Dazzled out," as I stalled opening the door. How do you do this again?
"Do I Razzle you?" he said, as flashed a crooked smile. I thought he needed to visit the dentist, but I didn’t say anything. He had a homeless man’s smile too. His eyes were glowing. In the dark, he didn’t look so scarred and tired as he did in the day. In fact, he was rather handsome, or maybe it was just my emotions warming up to him?
As soon I climbed in, the music came on.
"The Grateful Dead!" I exclaimed.
"You like them?"
"Yeah, they’re not bad."
"I like Buried Alive better."
"Who else do you like?"
"Burnt by the Sun, Burn the Priest, Bloodbath, Rob Zombie, Dropdead, Hollywood Undead, the Beatles. I’ll admit Hannah Montanna is catchy."
"Uh, lots of deads there, Brian."
"Well, I guess Hannah Montanna is pale in comparison."
"Yeah, I have the same middle name as the drummer in Bloodbath."
"What’s that?
"Brian Zachary Omi? Brian Z. Omi? What do I call you?"
"Just Brian is fine. What about you?"
I told him my name.
"What a night tonight is," he said, appreciating the full moon and the stars.
"You mean was?"
"Well, the night’s only beginning for me. I’m pretty nocturnal," he pointed to the bags beneath his eyes.
"I suppose it’s nice. Sorry, I’m a bit of a deadbeat tonight."
"Oh, I know how it is. I never felt more alive."
We ended up pulling in front of my house earlier than planned.
"Well, I guess this is it," I said.
"See you tomorrow? Or tonight if you want…" he grinned.
"Sure."
"I wish I could take a part of you home," as he stared me in the eyes, or my eyebrows? My forehead?
"Will my heart work?"
"Sure does."
"We should see a movie."
"How about the Corpse Bride?"
"We’ll see."
I went to get out.
"By the way -," he called out, "I always liked you for your mind."
I smiled and went inside.
Brian Z. Omi was a stiff.
Edit: Had to cut some parts out. He’s a zombie.
I’m afraid you can’t have it both ways. If you didn’t take writing the story seriously, why would anyone spend time critiquing it?
cathrl69 | Nov 20, 2009 Uncategorized |
Leave a Reply