*In Pursuit of Jerry Dude

Here is a short story that i did for CRWR 480. I hope you enjoy it. (also, i'm not stoked on how blogspot and layout seem to not work together at all.


In Pursuit of Jerry Dude
By Scott Gibson

***

This story is presented as a work of fiction... names and like likeness and... um... coincidence... and all that.

***

A Cool Section Title Goes Here

Alison was driving me home from Creative Writing 480, and I was telling her about attempting a 9 kilometer longboard ride home after drinking two bottles of wine the previous weekend (I think). The conversation shifted to her weekend, and her friend’s birthday at The Cabana restaurant in the Mission and local billionaire Jerry Dude, who somehow made his way to their table and never left.

Although Jerry Dude only knew a couple of the women at the table to a very limited extent, having kids that also attended Anne McClymont Elementary, Jerry Dude proceeded to supply the table with $600 bottles of Champaign throughout the night.

It struck me, “He should finance the wetsuit friendly bar!” I said to Alison.

“What?”

“The wetsuit friendly bar!” I reiterated “You know, the Bar me and Weez and Anthony are going to make, out of the run down resort on Cox Bay... We’ll get him to fund it... well not fund, like, invest in it”

“You’re just gonna ask him?”

“No I’ll befriend him first, then, when we’re tight enough, I’ll tell him about the bar. Jerry Dude will be stoked on it, and he’ll put up the money. Really, the wetsuit friendly bar can’t not be successful, it’s a good investment for him too.”

***

The Hottest Place North of Montana

Alison had heard Jerry Dude’s appearance at The Cabana was not an isolated incident, and had seen him there herself twice. So we assumed The Cabana would be a good place to start the pursuit. I asked Alison if I could refer to her as the bait, in this piece. She agreed when we established that she was only the bait because her children went to the same school as Jerry Dude’s.

We sat on the patio, close to the entrance. I figured there would be a good place to start. I didn’t want to come on too strong. It was my first time at The Cabana, since before I went to Asia, I was far from a regular. And I had to present myself properly to Jerry Dude; I had to get into his world, or at least blend in with the vapid charm of the Mission. I had to convince Jerry Dude that I was worth the few millions of dollars that I was eventually going to be asking him for.

And we sat, and drank our drinks. Nursed our drinks. My beer wasn’t getting fuller and Jerry Dude was nowhere to be found. Could it be that Jerry Dude is just a weekender and spends his Wednesdays reading to his kids or volunteering at the hospital? I hoped that wasn’t the case. I usually had time to grab a drink at the Cabana once or twice a week, but volunteering at the hospital is a commitment.

The glass emptied to my reflection. And like I was driving though a tunnel, holding my breath, hoping that everyone else in the car wouldn’t notice I was doing it, I didn’t acknowledge the empty glasses, and waited just a little longer.

Alison brought my attention to the door; there he was, Jerry Dude. Walking through the door, glowing like a Greek god as his shirt shimmered a vapid gold and green. There’s not many middle age men who can pull off done up and scruffy as well as Jerry Dude. He looked as hollow as I’d expected, which I have associated with being a plus when trying to extract money from someone.

Alison suggested playing by debit as it would bring us into the closest proximity to Jerry Dude. At the debit counter I stared at Jerry Dude as much as possible, without looking like I was staring at Jerry Dude. As we walked out I turned to Alison, “Wave to him, and then we’re set up for next time.”

***

My Wet-Suit Friendly Bar

Think about it. A bar with grip on the floor, that can easily be hosed down at the end of the night. Right off Cox Bay, one of Tofino’s main surfing spots, the most consistent in the summer. There’s an abandon resort there, no one’s using it, and it could easily be converted. the problem lies in purchasing said resort. The solution lies in Jerry Dude.

I’m torn about using glass in the wetsuit friendly bar. I don’t support using plastic, but I do support people being able to walk barefoot.

I was traveling though South-East Asia this past summer and I wondered why no bars in Canada have hammocks in them. My wetsuit friendly bar will totally have hammocks.
The reason that the bar couldn’t fail would be that, in Tofino, there are only 2 other bars (and one of them only is a restaurant with a pub section, the other has eared the affectionate nickname of “The Dirty Maq”), but neither of them are near the resorts. So in the summer we make the money from the tourists who are coming right off the beach, and in the winter we become the main watering hole for the people living in the Tofino staff accom(modation)s.
Jerry Dude would really benefit from this investment.

***

The Other Scott in Jerry Dude’s Life

Not long after my first Jerry Dude sighting Alison spotted him again. Jogging: no shirts need to be as tight as his was. I would assume that his ipod was playing the Scott Stapp solo album. (Scott Stapp is the former singer from the band Creed.) I Wikipediaed Scott Stapp. Scott Stapp, in his Wikipedia picture, was also wearing a shirt that presented more nipple than I needed to see. Coincidence?

***

Scott and Jerry Dude go to Thailand: A Jerry Dude Fan Fiction of Sorts

I had told Jerry Dude that I had bough hammocks in Ayutthaya for 20 baht a piece (under $1). Within 48 hours we were in Bangkok; Jerry Dude makes things happen.

We sat on Khao San Road beside Chan’s beer and bucket cart. I told Chan that Jerry Dude was my rich-uncle while Jerry Dude ran to the bathroom. I was kind of embarrassed to be with him, and I felt that a family tie would be the best excuse for me to have crossed the world with him. He was excessively drunk (I was too. Had i not been I may have realized there was no reason to say that he was my uncle,) and way making passes at an uninterested Chan.

I convinced him to try silkworm larva, but he began vomiting before they reached his lips. I took off my checkered bandanna and Gave it to Jerry Dude to clean up with, and apologized profusely Chan. She wasn’t that upset, it’s happened before.

The next morning I woke up on the floor of Jerry Dude’s room. (He had an air-conditioned room.) I was wearing a shirt that I had never seen before and my dreadlocks smelled worse than usual.

I walked to a store and bought two 1-liter water-bottles. I began drinking one and brought the other one back to the guesthouse. I placed it beside Jerry Dude’s head and left. I walked towards the bookstore that I had been to yesterday. There wasn’t a poetry book that I wanted yesterday, but I like looking for books.

***

Lisa the Alumni

I hadn't stalked in weeks. and quickly the stalkless weeks became stalkless months. I intended to, but my student-budget had already demoted me to box-wine; going out for pints was out of the question most weeks.

Jerry Dude was proving a more difficult target to acquire due to the lack of time and resources at my disposal. The clock was watching me, but, unfortunately, I was not watching Jerry Dude.

However, I did find out that a girl I knew from high school, who was a couple years younger than me had worked at Cabana. I asked her about Jerry Dude. She said she didn’t know much beyond him being rich and kind of dirty. I told her that we’d grab a drink some time and I’d try to extract a story from her. She said that she liked the phrase “extract a story.”

We never went out for drinks.

***

Scott and Jerry Dude go to Thailand Part Two: The Snake

Jerry Dude is wearing his custom made snake-skin blazer and boots. Apparently in Thailand you can choose a live snake and get clothing made out of it’s skin. I suppose it’s somewhat similar to choosing a live lobster. It’s also highly illegal.

We spent fours being questioned by Thai authorities, all of whom spoke minimal English. However, during out interrogation there was a shift change, and an official who spoke Mandarin came on. Jerry Dude is apparently flaunt in Mandarin and somehow we left fine free, but only after the officials shared a pizza with us. It was a meat-lovers pizza, but I ate it anyway. I felt that putting on a good face was more important than sticking to my pesco-ovo-vegetarianism.

I’m not going to lie, I enjoy the times that I have to eat meat.

***

Not the Box-Wine Tonight Thank-You

I was at The Cabana with Alison and Lindsey, there to celebrate the survey that Alison and I had failed to accomplish earlier that day. We looked for Jerry Dude but didn’t see him. However, the smoked salmon pizza was fantastic, even if I did have to pick off the bacon.

***

Passing the Torch?

I was about ready to head to bed but a friend began talking to me online. He had started a website showcasing the music of the Interior’s composers. He told me that the idea is for his website to be resource for film companies to find scores and composers for scores in their movies.

He tells me that the talent is here, and he just needs an investor.

*uhscott

I've been doing some lyric essays for my creative writing classes in uni over the last few years. I haven't really done anything with them since, and don't have any solid plans to at the moment, so i thought i might as well post some of them on here. here is a piece about names. (I haven't edited it since i handed it in)


***


Uhscott

In Jakarta a girl asked me my name. I replied “uh’scott.” She reiterated it back to me to be sure she’d heard correct “Uhscott?”

Having to take a moment to think of an answer, when the question was my name only further confirmed to me how distant myself and my nameare. This realization isn’t a new. For about as long as I can remember a part of my mind wanders in search of a name that I find fitting for myself. So far, no luck.


Elliott Smith was born Steven Paul Smith. He began calling himself Elliott because he felt that Steve was a “jock name”, and that Steven was too “bookish.” His girlfriend at the time had an ex named Elliott. There’s a street named Elliot (note the single ‘t’) in Portland Oregon where he lived at the time.


I was born Scott Edward Gibson. I was never taught how to spell my middle name, and I spelled it “Edword” until my friend corrected me in grade eight or nine.

Scott means one who is Scottish. I’m not Scottish. Three out of my four great grandparents were born in Canada, and as far as I know my European heritage is mainly English and Irish. We aren’t in contact with any European relatives that I know of. My parents just chose the name because they liked it. I’ve met other Scott’s who aren’t Scots and the name seems to work for some of them.

While searching for deeper meaning behind my name I read that some people suspect that English called the Scot’s Scot’s because of their tattoos, and that the word Scot may have meant tattoo. So when I make my parents proud with a new tattoo, I remind them that it is essentially because they didn’t put enough thought into naming me.

Somewhere along the line I removed the capitals from my name. I forget why, it was probably inspired by the linear notes in a punk CD, maybe the Ataris.


GG Allin was born Jesus Christ Allin because his dad believed that he would be a great prophet. The name GG evolved from his brother Merle’s inability to pronounce GG’s birth-name when he was a toddler.


I’ve never understood common-names. If someone has a child who they think is special and completely unique. why would parents name their child something so common that the name may not even be unique within their child’s kindergarten class?

I think if I had a daughter a would name her Astoria (it could be abbreviated to Tori) after the town in Oregon where the Goonies takes place. There would be no other Astoria in her class (touch wood).

A friend of our family named his first daughter Iclyn. I think it’s a gorgeous name. That same friend of our family named his first son Xanthan (pronounced Zanthan). I think it’s a stupid name.


While washing dishes in Tofino Weez asked me when I’m going to change my name to something that fits with my personality and lifestyle. On that shift the conclusion was reached that my name should be Star Dinosaurbones. If he reads something of mine and doesn’t feel that I’m being true to myself he’ll tell me that it isn’t Star Dinosaurbones


Sufjan Stevens claim that his name reflects his cultish upbringing. He doesn’t use the word cultish with negative connotations.


I’ve always wondered why some married couples have different last names. I figure if you choose to spend your life with one person you would rather share a name with them than with your parents.

I do understand the equality element. But there are other options. For example, choose a name that describes you as a couple and both take it. Instead of being described as the sons of an Man named Gib whom we’ve never met, not shall we ever meet, we could be referred to as “the Awesomes”

Or both partners could hold both their own surnames, their own surname and the surname of their partner. And in holding both surnames they would be holding the histories attached to each surname. I suppose this could get out of hand if the couple’s children were to do the same with their partners.

I would be uncomfortable taking my wife’s last name, mainly because I know it would require an explanation almost daily. But I suppose there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the right person.


The Ramones required and “ee” sound to be at the end of a member’s name. The classic line up is Joey, Johnny, Dee Dee and Tommy. I felt C.J. Ramone was a bit of a stretch. Elvis Ramone completely broke form, but he was just a fill in for two shows.


My friends don’t generally seem to feel that “Scott” is an adequate pronoun for the person that I essentially am. Usually I’m referred to as Scott-Gibson, if not to my face, at least when I’m mentioned in stories.


A partial list of my names:

Scott
Gibson
Scott Gibson
Scott Edward Gibson
Scott Edword Gibson (no longer in use)
scott gibson
scott fucking gibson
scott fuckin’ gibson
crush
scotty
scotty g
Scotch (by my god-daughter Kennedy, who can’t pronounce my name properly... It’s kind of awesome)
star dinosaurbones


Tim Commerford from Rage Against the Machine is listed under a different variation of his name in the liner notes of every Rage Against the Machine album. These names include Timmy C., Y. tim K., Simmering T, Tim Bob, and tim.com.


When I worked at Greenbay we had to choose camp names. It was the summer of 2003 and I ended up with the name Crush, alluding to the turtle in the Pixar blockbuster Finding Nemo. It worked well enough for the time I was there. There are still people who only know me as Crush.

A friend from camp whent under the alias of Switch. We still usually refer to each other by our camp names. When we’re in public it sometimes reaches my attention that we sound like we think we’re super-rad and therefore gave ourselves nicknames that we think are super-rad. We do a poetry collaboration occasionally and have titled it I Have a Crush on Switch.


When I sent a friend request to Elizabeth Bachinsky on Facebook I pondered how to sign my name. I went with no capitals hoping that it would portray me as artistic.

At the same table in Jakarta, where I introduced myself as “Uhscott” I was taking with another Indonesian, a boy. He had an Indonesian name, I don’t remember it, but I will never forget the name that he initially introduced himself to me with: Rocky Montana. When asked about the origin's of his chosen name he talked about the rocks in the bottom of the oceans, and the mountains of Montana that he had seen in pictures. His name told of the interconnectedness that he felt to the Earth, to it’s highest and lowest points.

I didn’t leave Jakarta with any more name than I had when I came with. But I left with a good example of a person who has a name.

*pop punx character sketches

a couple posts ago i mentioned a possible comic-book adaptation of a play i wrote a few years ago. the artist Jerrid Peterson sent me some character sketches. you can check them out through the link below and see what you think.

here are the character sketchers
http://i105.photobucket.com/albums/m209/Jerridiot/punk.jpg?t=1231090231

and here is Jerrid's deviant art page
http://jerridiot.deviantart.com/

*the dirty glass chronicles

Over the last while I haven't had much time to write music, but i've been getting back into it a bit. This song will hopefully be coming out on a split CD with me and Stephen Nettleton.

The Dirty Glass Chronicles

Whiskey from a dirty glass
is clean enough to drink
The fridge if out of ice-cubes
so it’s water from the sink
It’s nice to have you hear my friend
so come in and sit down
It’s a far cry from top shelf
but let’s pour another round

You call yourself a traveler,
no where to call your home
I hope you can find comfort
in bar stool legs, longer than your own
This town will never be forgotten
but we’ll drink to every ghost
of the ones who sat at these here stools
and the ones who come and go

Tomorrow I’ll be leaving
just a rucksack and a book
But won’t be able to forget
the way I think I should
Just the same I’ll take the train
cause it’s time to move on
to another place, a blank page
I’ll be scribbling upon

The road will take me in
It’s somewhere to begin

Sleeping on the floor
doesn’t phase me anymore

I’ve never held a pickaxe
but I’ve found some hearts of gold
The only times I’ve seen angels
have been alone on the road
The ones who share a cigarette
the one’s who share a word
the ones who bring out a dirty glass
where stiff whiskey is poured

Then I’m on the road again
then I become the ghost
an ever distant memory
that once sat in the house
(But) once a man gave me a bottle
and I carried it on my back
until I passed it around a table
where half the world sat

Whiskey from a dirty glass
is clean enough to drink
The fridge if out of ice-cubes
so it’s water from the sink
It’s nice to have you hear my friend
so come in and sit down
It’s a far cry from top shelf
but let’s pour another round

*pop punx

In first year I wrote this as a screenplay. A few months ago a friend of mine said that he would be interested in potentially making it into a comic book. I hope it happens because that would be awesome. Anyway, I haven't made any changes to this since first year, but I thought that some of you may enjoy reading it.

*scott

***

Pop Punx

Chris (typing): …wtf is wrong with u u guys r fags u dont even no wat emo or screamo is seriously ur soo dum.
Mark (enters): Dude, Dude guess what!
Chris (about to open mouth)
Mark: Simple Plan is coming to Vancouver, next Wednesday.
Chris: Dude, you know that our parents would never drive us down there. It’s a school night.
Mark: but man this is Simple freaking Plan. Seeing them is the only think in the world that I’ve ever wanted. That, and a date with Avril Lavigne, the punk rock princess of my dreams. But this isn’t about Avril Lavigne...
Chris: This isn’t even about Lorelei Gilmore.
Mark: dude that’s gross, she’s like 40. Her daughter is too old for you. And even if you were her age she wouldn’t go for you. Anyway that’s not what this is about. This is about…
(Both look at camera both raise a fist and say…)
Mark and Chris: SIMPLE PLAN!
(End Scene)

(Mark and Chris throw open a door and run in)
Mark: Jarard Jarard, dude…
Chris: dude, what the hell? Are you wearing girl’s pants? What the hell is wrong with you?
Jarard: Hey…whatever…shut up, all the guys in MCR (My Chemical Romance) do.
Chris: yeah, but the guys in MCR are cool, and I don’t think that they stole their girl-pants from their older sister.
Mark: Anyway dude! Were going to see Simple Plan in Vancouver! Next Wednesday!
Jarard: Man, I don’t listen to that stuff.
Mark: Since when?
Jarard: I’m Screamo now.
Mark: What the hell is screamo?
Jarard: It means I listen to scream music, heavy stuff, like MCR and stuff.
Chris: Is it screamo to dye your hair black and put a gay blond chunk in it like yours. You don’t even know what screamo…
Mark: Shut up you guys! Who cares what screamo is right now! We have a chance to see the band that has got us though all the tough times we’ve been through. Like when all the jocks made fun of us…well they didn’t like all make fun of us but like a few of them say “punk is bunk” sometimes, and one of them pushed Chris….
Chris: It was really more of a nudge.
Mark: That’s not the point. When girls wouldn’t go out with us, or when Avril wouldn’t return my calls, emails, faxes and letters, or when my parents made me clean my room Simple Plan was there to help me through those times. When I thought that no one else in the world was dealing with these things I could listen to Piers amazing lyrics and I realized that I wasn’t alone. So guys we’ve got a chance to see Simple Plan, but it will ironically require a very complicated plan to get there.

Chris: Are you sure that that’s irony?

Mark: I’m pretty sure it is. Do you have a better definition of irony? …Didn’t think so. But that’s not what matters right now, what matters is… who’s in?
(Mark and Jarard nod their head slowly with a look of understanding on their faces)
(End Scene)

(Mark, Chris, and Jarard in a basement talking)
Jarard: or maybe… we could…um… we could rent a car and…
Chris: Are you retarded? Do you think anyone is going to rent a car to a group of grade niners? And even if they did none of us can drive, and I’m sure that the car company would want some kind of credit card number or a ridonculous deposit or something.
Mark: How about we take the bus, or a plane.
Chris: Because that would take us to a bus station or an airport, and how would we get from there to the punk-gig.
Jarard: Dude, punk-gig is such a lame word.
Chris: What the hell do you call them?
Jarard: Concerts.
Mark: I usually say show.
Chris: But then half the time people think you’re talking about like movies or TV or something like that.
Mark: The Ataris call them shows, like in that song “Are We There Yet” you know “I just want to make it to the show, but I don’t think that…” you know. Anyway regardless of what we call seeing Simple Plan., how do we get there?
Chris: Why don’t you ask Josh to drive us?
Mark: Like Josh my brother?
Chris: No, Josh your… um…freaking whatever I can’t think of something clever to say. Yes Josh your brother.
Mark: Because he doesn’t have a car for one, he’s in school, and he doesn’t even like Simple Plan… he says they’re not real punk.
Jarard: They’re so punk.
Mark: I know.
Chris: Wouldn’t Josh be aloud to drive your parents mini-van.
Mark: Yeah, but if we took my parents van how would we be able to go without them knowing?
Chris: you said you wanted a complicated plan, well you got one!
Mark: (pauses) Well, it’s the best idea so far, let’s give it a go.
(End scene)

(Mark knocks on Josh’s door and lets himself in. His friends follow)
Mark: Hey Josh
Josh: What do you want now?
Mark: What makes you think I’m asking for something?
Josh: Am I wrong?
Mark: …no, Can you drive us to Simple Plan next Wednesday.
Josh: It’s a school night mom would never let me drive you.
Mark: But she’d let you go and we could make an elaborate like about where we are and go with you.
Josh: But why would I go in the first place? If I’m going to drive that far them I’d want to see a real punk band.
Mark: Shut the… I mean please man, we’ll do anything.
Josh: well you’re 13.
Mark: (cuts off Josh) 14!
Jarard: I’m 13
Chris: Shut up Jarard!
Josh: Anyway you’re “14” and in Jarard’s case “13” so there’s not too much that you can actually do for me!
Mark: Commmmoooonnnn Jossshhhaa, this is Simple Plan; you know how much this means to me.
Josh: Well let’s see the “truffle shuffle” and maybe I’ll consider it and think up some conditions.
Mark: Dude not now, my friends are here.
Josh: The truffle shuffle.
Jarard: What’s the truffle shuffle?
Chris: They made Chunk do it in the movie the Goonies. They made chunk lift up his shirt shake his belly around and make a bunch of weird sounds before they let him into the house. And Josh always makes Mark do it when Mark wants something from him.
(Mark in the background with his stomach exposed shaking around making noises)
Josh: So firstly you need to pay for gas, you need to pay for all of my food, and I’m
talking like steak and lobster. Chris you need to lend me your Gilmore Girls DVDs until I say that I’m done with them….
Chris: What? I don’t watch Gilmore Girls!
Mark and Jarard: Yes you do!
Josh: Since I’d have to miss school for this you guys need to find and buy me the following CDs before we go. Tom Wait’s “Blood Money”, The (International) Noise Conspiracy “Bigger cages, Longer Chains” and I guess… Norma Jean “Bless the Martyr and Kiss the Child”, mine’s scratched and hmm one more no actually two, well I might as well make it three cause there’s three of you that’s two each. Sooo the Bright Eyes/Britt Daniel collaboration CD, the Bright Eyes “Lua” EP and I guess the Chariot “Unsung” EP will be out before the show so yeah, that.
Jarard: Where are we going to get the money to pay for those?

Josh: You guys are upper middle class kids who live in the suburbs, your parents give you more then enough money.

Jarard: Good point

Mark: So were good to go?
Josh: Not yet. You need to make my bed for like three months.
Mark: Dude you never make your bed, mom doesn’t even make us make our beds.
Josh: do you want to go or not?
Mark: Fine
Josh: Okay, You guys have to make up your own lie and take any blame if you get caught.
Mark: Okay, so we’ll skip school that day and you can pick us up from somewhere. We can’t leave from the house.
Josh: Okay, you guys can work your own junk out.
(End scene)

(Josh pulls his van up to the back gate of the school. The boys are dressed in “gangster” style clothes complete with gold chains and Jarard has a clock around his neck. The boys are hiding in the bushes. They quickly get into the van)

Josh: What are you guys supposed to be dressed as? Mark are you wearing Fubu? You look ridiculous. Are you going to see Fiddy Cent now instead?

Mark: Were in disguise Josh. Like, what if one of our parents friends drives by and sees us and tells our parents.

Josh: I donno man. I think they’re a lot more likely to mention it if they see you decked out and gold chains with clocks around your necks.

Christ: Jarard is the only one with a clock around his neck…. We couldn’t talk him out of it.

Josh: Where did you even get these clothes?

Mark: Mom gives us a clothing allowance, remember?

Josh: So you spent it all on Fubu and Phat Farm clothes and in Jarards cause a clock necklace so you could be disguised for like ten minutes?… You should have just told me that you were this pathetic and I would have felt sorry enough for you to drive you bribe free. So what did you guys tell your parents anyway?

Mark: We made out fake permission slips saying that our French class was doing an overnight field trip to the B.C. Royal Museum, and…

(Gets cut off by Chris)

Chris: And we even got our parents to pay fifty bucks for the trip. That is except for Jarard, who told his parents that the school would accept personal checks.

Josh: Fake permission slips eh, that’s risky, but on the other hand very stealth. Has your school done parent teacher interviews yet?

Mark: Yeah, they do them really early in the year now.

Josh: Then you’re probably safe, but interviews would have been trouble.

(End Scene)

(They are pulled over, Mark is peeing and the side of the road. Chris hits Marks arm with a rock.)

Mark: What the hell dude?! I got piss all over my hand now!

(Everyone else is laughing)

Jarard: Well, sucks to be you.

Mark: Sucks to be you guys, who are sitting with me in the van. How do you like them apples?!

Josh: Mark there is no way you’re cool enough to be saying “How do you like them apples” especially when your threatening to touch someone with you piss hand. Just get in the van.

(End scene)

(Drive into Vancouver, joining the slow moving traffic)

Mark: We’re almost here! I’m so stoked!

Chris: I am too…. I think Jarard might be a little too stoked

Mark: Yeah man seriously, you need to switch back to guys pants. Those girl-pants don’t hide anything.

(Traffic stops completely. Chris looks at his watch)

Chris: Were never going to get there in time if traffic is going this freaking slow.

Jarard: We should just get out and run

Mark: Good call dude.

Chris: Yeah man, let’s do it up.

Jarard: For serious? We’re going to do what I suggested?

Chris: Jarard just shut up and let’s go.

Josh: Wait! How the hell am I supposed to find you after the show?

Mark: Just look for us, we’ll try and be around the front. And we’ll look for you too.

Josh: This concert is going to be freaking huge, that’s going to take forever. Aw, screw it. Just go. We’ll never make a descent plan. Have fun… (Yells) You guys so owe me for this! (As they begin to run)

(End scene)

(They run up to the ticket booth)

All: We need 3 tickets for Simple Plan!

Booth Operator: I’m sorry, but I just sold the last three tickets.

Jarard: Dammit! This only happens on movies!

Mark: Dude, well, umm, if this is like a movie then let’s try and get in like they do on movies.

Chris: Mark that is a retarded idea!

Mark: My retarded ideas have got us this far. You guys should start to respect my retarded ideas!

Chris: ….okay, so what do we do?

(Pause)

(Next two lines blurted out at the same time)

Mark and Chris: dress as security guards

Jarard: hide in a laundry basket

Chris: Jarard, who is going to have laundry baskets coming in and out of a punk rawk concert… especially ones that are big enough for us to fit in?

Mark: And besides, it’s two against one.

Jarard: Okay… Then I guess we need to go get some security uniforms.

(End scene)

(The boys are looking at a group of security guards)

Jarard: Man these guys are way, way, too tough for us to mug.

Chris: Jarard’s right… and twice in one day. New record. So what do we do?

Mark: Let’s make them ourselves… I have a black marker. We can draw facial hair on and stuff too.

Chris: looks like it’s the best we’ve got.

Jarard: Dude! Can one of you draw me a handle bar mustache?

(The Simple Plan bus drives into the parking lot. A camera shows the band inside the bus, looking out the window.)

Pier (singer from simple plan) (to his band mates): Hey look at those kids!

(Camera shows Jarard with a “handle bar mustache”, Mark writing “securtety” on his shirt in marker and Chris reaching for the pen.) They’re pathetic as hell, trying to get into a show by drawing on fake mustaches and stuff. They must really want this… When I see kids that lame I totally feel sorry for them. (Rolls down window and sticks head out) Hey… Umm marker kids… Come over here. You’re coming in with us!

(Camera goes to the boys faces and shows tears forming in their eyes)

(End)

*dead seagull press (and so it begins)

Hey, there isn't much on it yet, but here there will be eventually, so you may want to commence "following."

http://deadseagullpress.blogspot.com/

*scott

*my poems from the ubco creative writing anthology

CRWR 126 Alumni (OUC equivalent: ENGL 126)

Who would have guessed
that 4 years later
we would be the only ones
still sitting in this bar
(I used to call it my bar,
but I can’t name every bartender anymore)

I think that one night we had ten poets
around one table
competing in wing consumption
smoking cigarettes (because it was still legal)
or telling stories of abandoning
the nicotine vice
all drinking $10 pitchers of Winchester
or the house red (and stealing the vessel)
in practice of the perfect Wednesday

Poetry was something new
to me,
at least in the way I interacted with it
I felt like everyone around me
was the next Charles Bukowski or
e.e. cummings
and in this dingy bar
there was a place
for all of our first-year-brilliance

But if we were to try
to take the group picture,
that we never took then, now
most people would be unavailable
in fact it would be just us
in a bar that neither of us frequent
where the cheap pitchers on Wednesday
are Blue instead of Winchester



The Banana Pancake Trail (Plus Java)

When someone tells me their travel plans
I tell them to make sure to take time
to walk the road alone

It’s not what I planned to do
even though my flight from Vancouver to Hong Kong
was on a plane filled with strangers

In Hong Kong my friend met me
as soon as I’d passed security, he was expecting me
while he explored the city alone for 3 days

Once we were together we ran across the airport
to catch a plane to Bangkok
were we’d find seven more of my friends

To make things happen in groups of more than two
can be like pulling teeth
and even pairs have their limitations

Alone means the itinerary is yours alone
and the only baggage you carry
is the baggage you bring

But it means that no one will carry that baggage with you
if you stumble or start to burn out
and if you can’t carry it on your back, leave it

When someone tells me their travel plans
I tell them to make sure to take time
to walk the road alone

Because in walking the road alone
I learned everything that I need to know
about leaving