Ouch! stories by Sardonica

Caitriona

Something Wicked
The Blue Miracle

by Sardonica


It has been hailed, by some, as a miracle.

Celebrated, by others, as a Day of Reckoning, a Rapture, a Blue Apocalypse.
It was considered, almost universally, in science and theological circles alike, to have been an Intervention. A miracle. An Act of God. (As to which god, opinion still varies.)

Holiday.

Much merrymaking ensued. And, to be sure, much trepidation. The rallies and parades that to this day commemorate the Event are, at times, still offset by protest and riot. But, the polls are in. Globally, violence is at an all time low.
There was jubilee, and there were tears.

The effects on the art world were substantial—and for the most part, positive. Stock in Disney soared, Dennis Franz and David Caruso never worked again. And a popular prime-time, real-life docu-drama was cancelled, after a considerable lack of success in reruns.

Yes, it seems that no one really missed them.

The many confused, reluctant funerals that continued over the weeks, the months, and the years have been strained, at best. Almost never more than close family. And never (after week one) disrupted with unwanted media coverage.

A dedicated search for uniforms has endured—more a persistent pastime than anything else. A game for children. An oft-reported curiosity (especially when one should be discovered in an unusually humorous, or particularly embarrassing place).

And the people, it seems, will never tire, never bore of that ‘most posed question’ in the celebrity world: Grown men and women tune in nightly, to laugh, and to bond, and to reminisce, as their favorite actors and actresses are asked the infamous question, “Where were you the day that all the cops disappeared?â€

End.
 

Caitriona

Something Wicked
TO ALL MY FEMINIST FRIENDS

by Sardonica



I suggest you reread, A Sexual Suspect
This time as a person, not a woman...
How many women have I ever raped?
From life’s insurrection, you’re sure you’ve escaped,
But do you see me flaunting -my Cupid -My Venus?
(Only in your dreams) It’s stupid, it’s heinous
But I’m bursting my seams,
And you know what that means...
But we’ll just keep it between us.

Today you draw up your Pink Constitution,
But tomorrow it’s mink, and a new Revolution
But one last condolence
Before my adieu,
To all my Feminist friends...
Fuck you.
 

Caitriona

Something Wicked
Another Millennium Come and Gone...
A Retrospective...

by Sadronica



There is an ancient Chinese proverb, which curses one with the mandate of living in “interesting times.â€

Interesting times.

No one likes to eat their words, writers most of all. I wrote the following on January 1st, 2000, sitting in the balcony widow of New York’s Café D’Artist and watching the street cleaners sweep a millennia’s worth of confetti and vomit out of Times Square. Watching the drunks stagger and weave through the streets on their wayward ways home. Watching the police remove their barricades and their gasmasks, put away their rubber bullets and their riot shields. I watched the last of the party-goers leaving the bars and I watched computer programmers collectively thank the powers that be for a second chance—Y2K had been a dud.

New York City breathed a sigh of relief. The buildings were still standing. 9-11 was still twenty-one months and ten days away.

My pen on paper:

Well, another Millennium has come and the much-anticipated apocalypse has seemingly been averted.

Where were all the antichrists that were promised? Where are all the suicide cults? The heretics and harbingers of destruction? The false prophets and the New Jesuses (yes Bruce, I'm talkin' about you!)? The new-agers and the doom-and-gloomers

No explosions over Times Square?

No new World Wars?

No nuclear catastrophe?

No bio-hazard?

We were barely even able to elect an American president this time around (and I'm still not 100% convinced that we did). Gas prices went up a bit, but I'd hardly call that Armageddon… Steven Redding, you’ve let me down! (Stephen Redding, I have it on good word, is the true name of the true antichrist. He’s a regular ‘Man in Black,’ a real-life Walkin’ Dude. My source tells me that he’s responsible for Viet Nam, for Woodstock, and that he murdered Jimmy Hendrix. He lives in Gettysburg, PA and he mixes the truth with lies). You let me down Stevie--ya shoulda been in Times Square last night…

No aliens landed on the White House lawn. (Well, I suppose if we couldn't even get a president in there, we could hardly expect the saucers to be anything but a no-show…). But if ever there was a time for our space brothers to arrive in the nick of time to rescue us and carry us home, or ever a time for the alien invasion to begin, surely it was last night? At this point, I'd kill for another FOX-sponsored alien autopsy! Some more lights and military decoy flares over Phoenix. Heck, where's the Loch Ness monster when you need her…?

Mulder is barely even on The X-Files this season…

This is certainly shaping up to be one boring Millennium. Where are the mass suicides? The explosions? The toxic gas bombings? The genetically hybridated, government sanctioned, weaponized diseases? Quick, somebody clone someone! Let Charles mansion out of prison! Or at the very least, let's see what Radium John Ford is up to? Has anyone heard from the Unibomber lately?

Has there been a good video game or cartoon to throw hundreds of Japanese TV junkies into epileptic seizures in a while? Anything extra-curricular shaking at Columbine?

Anyone bagged a bigfoot?

Has anything interesting happened this past, last year of the come-and-gone Millennium?

Don't get me wrong-I'm not saying that I'm not glad that none of this stuff has actually happened. I'm just a little disappointed, is all. It would seem that the human race just isn't quit as interesting as I'd given them credit for...

--1/1/00



No one likes to eat their words. No one really wants to predict an imminent apocalypse…

There is an ancient Chinese proverb, which curses one with the mandate of living n “interesting times.â€

Damn the Chinese.
 

Caitriona

Something Wicked
STAR TREK: GENERATIONS

Under-Appreciated Classic

A Film Review by Sardonica


GENERATIONS is among my favorite of all Trek, and is my second favorite film after THE WRATH OF KHAN.

It took me a long time to appreciate this film. I hated it for years, despised it in the theater. But eventually, after many viewings, I was able to see where the writers were coming from, and the daring, unconventional direction and methods that were behind the story. And while I can understand why so many people didn't like it (my god, they killed Kirk!), I also think that the film deserves MUCH, MUCH more credit and attention that it has received. It truly is an understated masterpiece.

Unlike the vast majority of Trek, "Generations" is a tragedy in the true Shakespearean sense. It is a look at a part of the human condition that other Trek stories have barely even glimpsed, the idea that "Bad Things Can and Do Happen to Good People."

In other Trek, we are treated to "big" concepts, larger than life villains, heroic ideals, and intricate and powerful plotlines--and there's nothing wrong with that. But Generations dares to take a totally different and unique approach to the characters and story. It is a tragic telling of how terrible things can and do exist in the universe, and for no good reason--at least none that any of us can understand. It addresses the penultimate human question of, "If there is a God, why does he allow earthquakes and famine?", and it deals with the simple fact that the universe is not going to give us any easy answers to that question.

Now, let's take a look at the major events of the film, and I'll detail exactly what I mean when I say that it's about "Bad Things that can and do happen to Good People."

The film opens with Kirk being lost in space and presumed dead in the most unlikely of circumstances. Kirk is lost, simply because the Enterprise is being commanded by an incompetent captain. Surely, it doesn't get more ironic than that? I personally couldn't imagine a more tragic death for Kirk than to fall victim to age, red tape, and bureaucracy--evils far greater than a dozen Khan Noonian Singhs.

And this scene is not without other tragedy--Scotty is able to save less than half of the El Aurians (who have already been dealt the dark hand of tragedy, losing their homeworld to the Borg, and are now fleeing for their very lives, homeless and alone--Only to be caught in a "spatial anomaly" which will do in most of the rest of them). Crummy luck--reminds me of the way things sometimes work out in "real life."

And Scotty--the Miracle Worker--to the best of all his abilities and legendary skills, is frustratingly able to save so few of them... and in front of a slew of TV news reporters, no less. This is a reality check, a subtle means of showing that this "legend" is really a person (albeit a very talented one) and subject to all the laws of physics, Murphy, and bad luck as the rest of us.

Even the absence of Spock and McCoy (though I understand that this was a result of the actors' refusal to be in the film, rather than a predetermined plot point) nevertheless worked very well. Of course Kirk would be alone, without his true friends when the shit hits the fan. All the more tragic, I say.

Then we have Picard (during what should have been one of his happier moments, a celebration with his crew and closest friends) learning that his family has been killed in a house fire. Not murdered at the hands of an arch-enemy, but killed in a stupid, and probably preventable accident. This is the sort of thing that happens in REAL LIFE, not in the stuff of legends! And for that reason, it strikes us on a very terrifying and human level.

The film is chock-full of tragedy--and, at the sake of reiterating myself, I'll clarify that: REAL tragedy, not cinematic tragedy. The fusing of Data's emotion chip is a perfect example:

Data had striven for seven screen years to obtain emotions the hard way, by learning them and growing as a human... But when presented with a "cheap and fast" means of obtaining them, he fell victim to this temptation and went for it. Surely, he knew that Lor's emotion chip was not functioning correctly? Surely he knew that it was a dangerous, even unwise, undertaking to install the chip? But install it he did--with tragic results. While many critics seemed to find Data's humor in the film to be campy, unnecessary, or "bad acting", I beg to differ. I don't believe his humor was meant in any way to be comedic relief for the film--on the contrary, I found it to be nothing short of disturbing and inappropriate. The rashness and fallout of his misguided decision to install that emotion chip is evident in every joke he cracks: Laughing in times of danger, mouthing "Oh shit!" as the Enterprise crashes to the surface of the planet Veridian--this isn't comedy. This is truly unsettling, emotional instability. A tragedy for Data unlike any other I could envision--in his quest to become human, he opted for the "quick fix" and instead turned himself into an emotional cripple. (Note: I'm speaking within the context of Generations, I realize this plotline has been ignored in subsequent films). Data, in short, fell victim to one of humanity's most insidious downfalls: the easy road of temptation and laziness.

Which brings me to another theme of Generations: Temptation and Addiction. Let's take a look at the character of Dr. Soran:

Soran has been critically scorned as being a pretty lame villain--certainly he's no Khan, no Lor, no Q, no Borg Queen, no Gul Dukat... But then, I contend, was he ever meant to be?

Dr. Soran has no grandiose plans on taking over the universe, no desire for conquest or power. Indeed, he isn't even bent on any sort of literary revenge...! He only wants to get into the Nexus. Why? Simple, he's a drug addict.

And like a drug addict (who will stop at nothing, even destroying their own families to support their addiction) Soran will stop at nothing to get back into the Nexus. He doesn't care who or what he has to hurt or destroy to get there--he has already given over his sense of self, and his moral code, to his addiction. Surely, this is as tragic and pathetic and real a villain as has ever graced the screen of Trek?

Which brings us to the Nexus itself. A lot has been said that if it was so powerful and influential, how did Picard and Kirk so easily escape it's Siren's song? Well, here's my thought on the matter: I don't believe that the Nexus was all that powerful or manipulative. Mostly (like drug or alcohol addiction) I believe that it captured those personalities who were susceptible to its addictive influences. Kirk and Picard are both most assuredly self-realized and strong-willed characters. While they certainly may have been tempted and even tricked by the wiles of the Nexus, they also were both ABOVE giving in to it's temptations, once they realized what really going on. Now, it has been established in the film that the Nexus offers, not a life of perfect, wish-come-true illusion, but rather an illusory life of mediocre complacency--something that, IMO, neither Kirk nor Picard would or could EVER settle for.

And the tragedy continues. The Enterprise is destroyed by a old out-of-commission Klingon BoP, commanded by two lame villains, with a petty gripe? And not because of any battle mettle or brilliant strategy (a la TWOK), but rather, because they (after dehumanizing Geordi and "cheating" to get the shield frequencies) score a lucky hit on the warp core. What an end for the Federation flagship!

And even Geordi cannot prevent the core from going critical. Much like Scotty earlier in the film, Geordi is exposed, not as a miracle worker, but as a real person, bowing down to real physics. A tragedy, through and through.

And seeing the women and children evacuated in a panic to the saucer section--we are struck again by the inappropriateness of having families on a ship such as this. Yes, bad things can and do happen to good people.

And in the end, what is resolved? Nothing. Our heroes do not come out as such. They are not heroes in this particular "human adventure", they are merely survivors. They have learned a powerful lesson--perhaps one of the greatest lessons that there is: That the universe is unrelenting, bad things can and do happen for no good reason, and that God (or Q, the Organians, or the Wormhole aliens, what have you) works in mysterious ways. We can learn more from tragedy, than from high adventure.

And that's not to say that Generations doesn't have it's share of cinematic moments. The scene where Picard releases his pent-up anger and sorrow and frustration and admits to Troi that he fears that the Picard line will die with him is poignant and brilliantly punctuated with the star collapsing in on itself outside his window.

The crash landing of the saucer section is a wonderfully tragic edge-of-your seat sequence.

The shared scenes with Kirk and Picard were wonderfully character-driven and subtle--the chopping wood, the cooking of breakfast, the captains on horseback. Nothing over the top, but always true to their personalities.

And the opening scene of the champagne bottle floating through space to smash on the hull of the Enterprise-B is a particularly subtle and brilliant moment. After a careful viewing of the film, one must look back and wonder, "What exactly are we celebrating here?" On the surface, we (the audience) are celebrating a Star Trek anniversary. But in the context of the film, given that it is unmistakably a tragedy...? I think we are celebrating our acceptance of, and our willing to live despite, our own human mortality.

And a note on the Nexus time-travel: A lot of people have argued that the time travel was merely a gimmick used to cheat the plot. While I would agree with that in many other Trek stories, I don't think that's the case here. What was accomplished with Picard and Kirk's travelling back in time? Was the Enterprise saved? Was Picard's family saved? Was Kirk saved? Were the El Aurians saved? No... none of the tragedy was averted. The Nexus was not a gimmick, but a true, allegorical means of showing the futility and frustration, despite hope, in dealing with tragic circumstances.

So there it is. I LOVED this film. From the stark lighting to the character-driven story to the wonderfully apocalyptic sets. And when taken in it's proper context--as a true tragedy--and as being a VERY different kind of storytelling than most other Trek, I think it deserves a re-appraisal by its critics. For surely, there is a lot going on here, and most of it is very subtle.

Let's end with another subtle tragedy. Riker has given up, how many commands, waiting for the Enterprise-D? And in the end, when he finally gets (albeit temporary) command, he is accountable for the ship being destroyed.

In the film's final moments he tells Picard that he plans on "living forever." But we all know that he won't--because, if nothing else, this film has shown us that our heroes, like us, are all too human.

So there you have it, why not revisit a "lost" classic?
 

Caitriona

Something Wicked
Suddenly Cynthia
by Sardonica

Backstage, it was rather difficult to hear. Voices, dulled with a tinny sort of echo, floated through the curtain. Bruce remained at attention, awaiting his cue.

“...And what would you say to him if you met him?â€

“Well Sally, I guess I'd tell him that... oh god, I'd say that I'm just in love with him. I mean he's got the hottest bod, and the tightest—â€

“Would you ask him if he was single?â€

“Yeah.†Giggles and nervous laughter from the audience slowly erupting into applause, like a distant rolling thunder.

“How long have you felt this way?â€

“Oh god, I mean... ever since I bought the magazine—â€

“And you carry his picture in your wallet?â€

“Yeah, I bought a second copy of the mag, one that I could cut up.â€

“And... let's see, it says here... you said that you never leave home without his picture in you're wallet?â€

“No, I keep it in my wallet.†Chuckle. “I know you must think I'm weird, but there's just something about him.â€

“Well Cynthia, what would you say if I told you that you were about to meet him?â€

“What?â€

Bruce tensed. This was his moment.

“What if I told you that he is here in our studio today? Waiting backstage—â€

“Oh-my-god— You're kidding— Really?â€

“That's right...â€

Bruce gripped the edge of the curtain, leaned forward, and took a step.

“Ladies and gentlemen, can we please have a big hand for...â€

“Oh-my-god—â€

Bruce took a deep breath, and loosened his sweaty grip on the curtain.

“Trevor Hollandaise!â€

Bruce leapt out onto the studio floor and in front of the cameras, just a moment ahead of his cue.

“Cindy, meet the man of you're dreams!â€

Bruce took another awkward step forward, adjusting the collar of his uniform. He frowned—he was ahead of his cue, but it was too late to step back now. From the opposite side of the studio emerged a hulking statue of a man. Bronzed to a deep rusty hue, and glistening in the studio light, he seemed to have been carved from stone, or molded from some long forgotten, superhuman block. Shirtless, boasting glossed and rippling muscles, and dressed to a tee in authentic fireman’s hat, suspenders and trunks, Trevor Hollandaise grinned as the audience swooned. He smiled broadly and sideways—a quick, crooked smirk for the studio audience—then he brushed a rogue strand of shoulder length hair from his beady blue, perfect eyes, and bounded for his seat next to Cynthia.

“Oh-my-god!â€

“Cynthia...†Sally crooned, “Are you overwhelmed?â€

Trevor leaned in and planted a wet one on Cindy’s lips. Her eyes remained open, while she swooned and melted into him. He slid his impersonal kiss professionally to her cheek and winked to the audience.

Bruce took another awkward, mistimed step forward. “Uh oh,†announced Sally, playfully and with only a hint of tired irony (more apparent in the masked wrinkles around her eyes, than in her voice)—this was Bruce’s cue. “It looks like this might be too much for Cynthia. We’d better call out our studio paramedic to take her pulse!â€

Bruce lunged.

Suddenly Cynthia seemed to awake and break free of the rapturous trance that such close proximity to her idyllic hunk had induced. Without warning, she grasped Trevor firmly by his long hair and round ears and pulled him to her. She pressed her lips to his neck and with a darting tongue, she licked him there, unseen to all but Sally. The lick was followed through with a sharp, challenging bite.

Bruce picked up speed and sided up next to Sally, coming to a sliding stop on the small masking-taped “X†on the studio floor. He stopped perfectly in place.

“This is Bruce, our studio paramedic,†Sally announced without even turning to look at him. “What’s your prognosis, Bruce?â€

With a careful, practiced rapport, Bruce answered, “Well, I'll have to check her pulse.†He gripped the stethoscope that hung loosely around his neck, and placed it over his ears. The audience applauded.

Cindy climbed out of her chair, heaved herself onto Trevor’s lap, and wrapped herself tightly around him, groping and pressing her small breasts firmly against his naked, enormous chest. A gamut of conflicting emotions (not the least of which was surprise) were vied for acreage on the limited expression of Trevor’s face. Confused, he turned to the audience for help.

Laughter. Applause.

Bruce stepped forward and clumsily Velcroed his blood pressure armband around Cindy’s pale, spindly arm.

Trevor turned to Sally for help, but she only thrust the microphone in front of him, causing the audience to laugh even harder. Trevor opened his square-jawed mouth to protest and Cindy bit down on his oversized lower lip. With a stifled yelp he tried to stand, but Cindy had locked him by the thighs firmly into the studio chair with her own twisted legs.

Bruce looked at his blood pressure gauge. The reading was higher than usual. He turned to tell Sally but she ignored him.

Trevor tried to stand, but in Cindy’s awkward pretzel embrace he stumbled and the chair fell sideways to the floor, with Cindy tangled on top of him. Together they rolled away from their seats. Bruce’s equipment was yanked from his hand. The audience erupted into raucous applause.

“It’s um—†Bruce tried again to relay his test results, only to be cut off by Sally.

“Oh oh, Trevor! looks like Cindy’s got a—â€

Trevor, in his flailing, mismanaged a kick and knocked over a chair. The crowd went wild.

Sally expertly dodged the chair, but Bruce was forced to take a step back, away from the action.

Sally put her hand to her lips and gingerly chewed on her index finger, an expression of disbelief lighting on her studio-lit face, as Cindy began to rhythmically grind against Trevor’s sweaty, pinned pelvis.

Within seconds, as she continued to grind, and lick feverishly at Trevor’s huge neck, Cindy began to tremble, and then to pant, finally surrendering into an exhausted, heaving fit. My god, thought Sally, with just a hint of unrealized jealousy, She’s having an orgasm!

Bruce stepped up and retrieved the gauge of his blood pressure device. Cindy, momentarily slowed by the receding waves of ecstasy, began again to pick up her pace, rubbing convulsively, her legs locked around Trevor’s. After a moment she let out a shriek of pure delight, and then a gasp, and the audience applauded even louder than before.

Sally seemed about to speak, but didn’t. Instead she stepped forward and held the microphone towards the entangled pair, as if hoping that they might speak. As Sally held the microphone at a closer, phallic proximity to the entangled pair, a low, guttural growl began emanating from deep in the back of Cindy’s throat. Intrigued, Sally leaned even closer, until she was holding the microphone right over them, tilted at a downward angle.

For a timeless moment, all was still. The cameras continued to roll, the audience to watch. Bruce stared at the blood pressure gauge in his hand. Sally stood dangling her microphone impotently over her guests. Trevor’s wooden expression became one of disbelieving shock, of shameful violation, and finally resignation—I’m not here… This isn’t happening… his eyes half-closed in disbelief and refusal as Cindy rolled into her third orgasm of the studio afternoon.

End.
 
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