Author Archives: Bryan Hilson

The 12 Days Of Micro Fiction – The Sixth Day

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By Andrikkos

100 MINUS ONE

I have only 92 words left to live. After this, there will be but 85. Shall I be flamboyant, go out with a flourish? Call you my mavourneen as we enjoy drink supernaculum? You say I shouldn’t speak at all anymore; you’ve decided quiet, I might not be so bad to have around. Thinking twice, even thrice about putting a foot in my mouth, causing the other shoe to drop; ah, my demise awaits 23 missteps away! The old woman called it a curse, but death is not the curse, it’s the choosing the last word to die on.

The 12 Days Of Micro Fiction – The Fourth Day

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Photo by Pwlps

THE BOY WHO REFUSES TO BE WRITTEN

The boy who refuses to be written may not be a boy at all. Maybe he’s a wolf, tornado, dragon 90-feet tall. He could also be an avalanche, submarine, he could be the moon. He’d prefer to be the time of day, tomorrow, someday soon.

The boy who refuses to be written may not always know his name. Maybe he’s unsure, the rules always seem to change. He wonders if he’ll ever feel at home inside the world. The boy who refuses to be written is happiest when he’s a girl.

The 12 Days of Micro Fiction – The First Day

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Photo by Bob Collowan

THE SIMPLE LIFE

Turns out the monster taking refuge in the windmill isn’t eating our livestock and demonizing our children. Turns out all these years we’ve been doing it to ourselves. To a one, we gawp, and remove our hats and slap them across our knees. Then we torch that sum bitch and move on to the next windmill.

Future Headlines (I Don’t Want To See)

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Photo by Texas State Archives

Photo by Texas State Archives

Hey there, wow, it’s already Thanksgiving again, a time to reflect on all that we’re grateful for in our lives. Granted, in America, this is either the best or worst of times, depending on whether you were angry before Nov. 8 or if you’re angry right now. One person’s hope is cause for another’s sheer panic. In this moment, however, I am trying to avoid hysteria. But as thankful as I am for all that is beautiful in my life, I’ll be really thankful if I never read these headlines in 2017.

Man Thawed After 60 Years in Cryogenic Freeze Demands Money Back – “Sheesh, I’m still in 1957,” says Lester Hudgins.

Muslims Registered in U.S. To Receive Lifetime Subscriptions to Guideposts Magazine – “They’re saving a big league 53% off the cover price,” says government official.

Vampire Sects Exploit American Exodus, Pose As Canadian Host Families – “They were all so pale and polite,” says a survivor from San Francisco, “how the hell were we to know?”

White House Outsources IT to the Crimea – Putin Yelp review “made this one a no-brainer,” says government spokesman.

EPA To Privatize, Suitors Include Dow, BP, Volkswagen – “We’d be just as happy selling it to Shell, or to a shell company,” says latest press release.

Executive Order Mandates Scott Baio To Play All Parts In ‘Hamilton’ Forever – “Baio, that sounds about as diverse as we want to get,” says The Great White Way.

‘DREAM Act’ers Deemed Too Inspirational, To Dream For Real In Medically-Induced Comas – “It’s better they stay out of sight while we craft a new ‘rapists and murderers narrative’,” says Homeland Security.

Philippines President Granted U.S. Asylum, Cabinet Post – “I think we have been a little too precious here at HHS about the sanctity of human life,” says a deputy director. “Secretary Duterte is going to do wonders for our budget.”

Bannon Militia Installs Former Access Hollywood Host as Publisher – “Don is always saying the New York Times can use more ‘bush’ in it.”

U.S. Nuclear Codes Break Re-Tweet Record – “G-d autocorrect,” says top adviser to the President.

What I’m Handing Out This Halloween

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Photo by The Culinary Geek

Photo by The Culinary Geek

Happy Halloween everyone! If you’re in the area trick ‘r treating, stop on by and get loaded up with some of the good stuff:

  • Nestle’s Milk Chocolate Ball Bearings – You know the jingle: So much fun going in, so much adventure coming out.
  • Gobstopper Existential Dread Flavor – Because you’re never too young to fret about how insignificant you and your purple tongue are in the greater scheme of things.
  • Popcorn Balls from 1986 – Even back then they tasted like they were 30 years old.
  • Boston Baked Beans – Not the candy, actual Boston baked beans, steaming hot from my ladle into your bag.
  • Topps All-Star Candy Bars Trading Cards – Something nice for the diabetic kids. All the favorites tastefully photographed.
  • Game-day decision – Pamphlets advertising my sinkholes for sale in Florida, or my frosted corned beef hash squares made with fresh Florida sinkhole water.
  • Willy Wonka’s Gummy Anatomies – Squish a large intestine between your teeth. Oh no, somebody didn’t fully digest that piece of cod!
  • Cliven Bundy’s Gummy Manifestos – Reserved for the parents who dress up their kids as Donald Trump un-ironically. So they’ll skip over my house when the election doesn’t go their way.
  • Nougat whippets – Mini aerosol cans good for three sniffs of straight up, unfiltered nougat scent.
  • Spike strips – For use at the end of the day when you commandeer the family car in a fit of sugar-induced rage.

What will YOU be handing out this Halloween?

 

Curtis Hanson’s Overlooked Gem

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Reading about writer-director Curtis Hanson’s sad passing on Tuesday, I decided to dip into the archives and post my rant about his underappreciated masterpiece Wonder Boys (2000). Hanson is primarily known (and justly lauded for) L.A. Confidential (1997)and 8 Mile (2002). But it’s always Wonder Boys that I come back to every year, for all the reasons I exclaim below. Rest in peace, Mr. Hanson.

Photo by David Shankbone

Photo by David Shankbone

What is it about adult movies with adult themes straddling the line between comedy and drama that so befuddles studio marketing departments?

Imagine you work for Paramount and you’re tasked with selling Wonder Boys. It’s an embarrassment of riches: Director Curtis Hanson, coming off of the Academy Award-winning L.A. Confidential; a bestselling novel by Michael Chabon adapted by top scribe Steve Kloves (nominated for an Oscar here); a bonafide movie star in Michael Douglas, and a staggeringly talented supporting cast (leading women and men in their own right) featuring Frances McDormand, Robert Downey Jr., Tobey Maguire and Katie Holmes.

Easy sell, right? Well, it does deal with literature and writers. Oh god. And don’t forget, it’s also a movie for adults. Double-oh-god. Yes, Douglas plays an adult tenured creative writing professor with one brilliant novel to his credit, but also a persistent pot habit, a wife who’s just left him, a girlfriend who also happens to be his boss carrying an inconvenient surprise, two brilliant students one disturbed the other in love with him, a 2,000 page manuscript that he’s been working on for the last seven years and a harried, slightly unhinged editor desperate to see it. All of which comes to a head over one weekend, a literary festival at a liberal arts college in steel country.

Hmmm. You might need to stay late at the office to crack this one. How to package eccentric, flailing, flawed, but still loveable (i.e. human), characters? How to give us a taste of the film’s rich subtext—writing as a metaphor for life—as well as the recurring (and winning) plot device of a dead Rottweiler? A tone that bends ever so slightly toward farce but then snaps back into something melancholy at times but never somber, and always, always, shot through with a sense of fun, of wicked mischief?

Eureka, you’ve got it! Your ad campaign actually uses the film’s appealing idiosyncrasies as a selling point because you’re going to release it come awards season, when a discerning audience is expecting more “challenging” fare. It’s a no-brainer.

How about no brains? Because the execs ignore your memo, and in their infinite wisdom dump this into the theatrical release wasteland that is February. And nobody sees it. Nobody sees the pathetic hilarity of Michael Douglas as Professor Grady Tripp smoking a joint in his ex-wife’s dirty pink bathrobe. If no other reason, watch this pleasingly, painfully acute movie for that.

Ask A Pokemon Go Trainer

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Another in an ongoing series of “Ask A” columns that address our readers’ most pressing societal concerns.

Pokemon Go

DEAR POKEMON GO TRAINER:

My ex-boyfriend recently got out of rehab and I’m letting him stay at my apartment while he gets back on his feet. The conditions are we remain entirely platonic, he does his share of the chores, and, of course, a zero tolerance policy if he uses again. Whaddyaknow, last week I caught him with a baggie of heroin that he swears on his life he’s just holding for a “friend.” I know I have to kick him out, that’s the policy, but he has literally nowhere else to go, no family, no other friends. But on the other hand, if I give in to him, what’s to stop him from continuing to abuse my trust like he does the”H”? Do I stay tough and leave a guy basically homeless, or back down and give him another chance?

CONFLICTED IN KANSAS

DEAR CONFLICTED IN KANSAS:

Stop wasting your PokeCoins on items you could easily pick up at a PokeStop! Forget the Poke Balls and Super Potions and focus on Lure Modules and Lucky Eggs and Incubators. You’re probably carrying way too many eggs–god, please tell me you’re hatching your eggs immediately! Don’t waste the CP of your animals waiting to incubate. That is so Level 5. And do NOT tell me you’re walking out there. Charmander and Mr. Mime go to the runners. You’re like an enemy gym to me right now.

DEAR POKEMON GO TRAINER:

I’ve been married to my high school sweetheart for almost 30 years, so you’d think I know everything about her. Imagine my surprise then, when after all these years she brings a dog home, after we’ve always said we weren’t going to have children, pets, or plants in the house. Now we’ve got “Spritzer,” a Jack Russell mix the color of a Guernsey cow, who’s lighting up my wife and taking her away from me. No more morning coffee and finding grammatical errors in the newspaper together, Spritzer has to be walked. No more cuddling up at night, Spritzer’s favorite spot is right between us in bed. I’ve asked my wife again and again what I’ve done to deserve this, and she just says she woke up one day and wanted a dog. I’m at the point I’m either going to leave or Spritzer’s going to have an unfortunate “accident.” I’m at my wit’s end. Help!

THE OTHER BEST FRIEND IN TEXAS

DEAR OTHER BEST FRIEND IN TEXAS:

Hello, you can’t evolve your Pokemon without the right candy! You can’t give Crabby candy to a Pidgey and expect a Pidgeletto. That’s like expecting a Zubat to become a Golbat with just a 1000 Stardust. Like expecting Professor Willow to like make YOU the exception and let YOU go it alone against Mystic, Instinct, and Valor. Yeah, good luck with that. God, I swear, by the legendary bird Zapdos! You’re being a real PsyDuck, you know that, right?

DEAR POKEMON GO TRAI–

Oh who are we kidding, Elizabeth, I know it’s you. You’ve got to come home. Please. I’ve been texting and calling for three days. How was I supposed to know? You said you were going out to capture a Caterpie, or something, like it was bopping down to the store to get a Fanta. That was almost 96 hours ago. I’m worried, and the back-to-school sales are probably cleaned out of their best stuff so don’t cry to me when you can’t—sorry, sorry, I’m not mad, Lizzy, I’m just worried. I ask people if they’ve seen you and if they do look up from their phones their faces are ghost-white and they’re sobbing, Lizzy, crying their eyes out that they have to, HAVE TO, find something called a Mootoo. Meowtoo? I don’t know, I’m just, it’s all just so, this world–please just come home!

YOU KNOW VERY WELL WHO THIS IS YOUNG LADY