what would you do next?

This was a process report I did for school. I took out some of the process part and left it with this.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO NEXT

You’re driving home to see your parents, after being in college for two years. You’ve been taking courses in Criminal Justice; working towards an eventual job as a Detective. You try to imagine the look on your mom’s face as you walk into the house, and the excitement she’ll express. And then she’ll spit clean any dirt her over judging eyes find; but that’s a mother for you. The silence in the car is broken by the sound of a familiar quote being played by your favorite actor. You pick up the phone to see the caller id showing the name of your best friend since childhood. Learning from your parents you were coming home; they want you to stop by and talk about how things have changed. They never could understand why you wanted to go to college to work for the police. So when you told him you were going to do it; a rift formed between you that you were never sure would heal.

The neighborhood looks almost the same as you left it; albeit, some new cars sitting outside the neighbor’s houses. You pull up to the house you’ve lived at, for the majority of your life. But as you gaze up to look at it, you notice something’s not right. The door’s partially open, dad would never allow that. Doing something like that would raise the electric bill. The porch light being on, in the early afternoon, tells you that something’s not right.

You cautiously walk up the door; there’s a slight tinge in the back of your neck. Nervousness is creeping up on you; even when, you try to calm yourself down. Everything’s alright, it’s just the wind the pushed the door open like that. The lights, well dad might of forgot to turn them off. As you rest your hand on the door ready to push it further into the unknown situation; your thoughts are still racing with possibilities. Lying on the floor is your father; he’s clutching his blood soaked chest in agony. His eyes show a baffling look to them, that you’re not quite sure why. There’s a pounding going on inside the house, which you quickly realize to be your own heart. You kneel down and check his neck for a pulse, but nothing stirs your fingers sensation. It’s a lie it must be, so you look for a second opinion. Reaching down you grab his wrist, as the nurse would do for your checkups. The message comes in clear now, you were hoping for the lie and not the truth. Mom, where is she? You step over your father and run through the house, looking for her. A hand is placed over your mouth, as you snuff out a scream that would break every window in the house. Your mother is sitting at the dinner table, as if she was waiting for someone. Her skin has grown white from the life that has drained from her body. Now the ground is shaking, an earthquake, why now? Only to look and see it’s your own body that’s doing it. You close your eyes and try to imagine something happy in your life, a pleasant picture of your family. You don’t want to open them and realize what truly is waiting for you. But you must, you have something important to do. Fighting back tears and frustrations is just a small step to what has to happen next.

Grabbing your cell phone, from your pocket, you call the police. Giving them all the information you can, you do not want to lead them to think of you as a suspect. After you click the phone closed, anger grips your mind. You want to find out who did this first, before they even arrive. But you compose yourself as you’ve been instructed in class. First thing you need to do is examine the area for an overall feel of the crime scene. You head back to where you found your dad, and look him over. His eyes lead you to believe he was stunned by what happened. It’s like he wasn’t expecting this attack to happen. Maybe he knew the person who did this, so he felt no reason to guard himself. That’s when he was caught off guard by the attacker. He’s clutching his chest would signify that the attacker used a knife as his weapon of choice. The attacker probably covered your dad’s mouth, to keep him from alerting your mother of what’s going on. Scanning around your dad you notice a footprint in the blood soaked floor, that’s pointing to the outside. You double back at the direction of the footprint. Taking a looking outside you knew you were right about not seeing any footprints on the porch. Did they take off their shoe?

Checking your father over, you notice his wallet laying across his leg. You curse the fact you missed it before; then you curse the fact it matches your fathers jeans. Taking a closer look at it, you see a twenty lurking it’s corner of the wallet. You were thinking robbery, but now you’re beginning to wonder. Turning around you look at the door that leads to the kitchen and dining room. On your way to the door you notice a crumpled up piece of paper that is poorly trying to hide itself, from your vigilant sight. Kneeling down to get a better look at it you notice it’s a gum wrapper. Both of your parents forbid the use of chewing gum in the house. So that eliminates them from being the gums owner. Your mind scans for a list of people that might of done this, you’re not sure why you are doing it. These are just stray thoughts running through your head. You don’t have enough clues to even think of anyone yet.
Getting to the dining room you scan the area over. Nothing seems misplaced, the food was set on the table to prepare for dinner. Three plates rest on the table, ready to have servings of food placed on them. Your mother was still sitting down when the attacker came in, so she wasn’t surprised by them. The attack had to come quickly so she couldn’t react in time. You pause for a moment and look at her. Tears start forming from your eyes; you want so much for this not to have happened. The question that’s still booming throughout your head is, why. Shaking your head you come back to reality, but the imaginary one seems more relaxing at this point. Quickly it kicks in that both of your parents knew this person, and must have trusted them enough to allow this to happen.

Your eyes widen as you focus on the middle of the table. Rushing to the spot you found the gum you take another look at it. You know this type of gum, someone from your past has chewed it before. Pulses in your brain being to blink as information is twisted and torn apart. You start to replay the scene in your head, following behind the killer as they perform the incident. Watching them cover the mouth of your dad when he answers the door. Keeping him from screaming to alert your mother, they lay him down and place his wallet on the leg to make it look like a robbery. Then the killer calmly walks to the dining room, your mother is probably a little surprised by the visit, or that your father wasn’t there with them. That’s when they pull the gun out and shoot her. You think of why they would eat the gum in the house, so you take another look at the dinner table and notice a piece of bread tore in half. Probably wore gloves, but this leads you to add that scene to the movie in your head.

Trying to continue with the scene, you’re interrupted by a noise coming from outside the door. It’s the police calling to you. Soon the place is filled with them, taking pictures and marking areas off. One of them takes you to the living room to talk about what you’ve seen. As you tell him the details you seem to skip over certain details that might help them find out who it was. You’re withholding evidence now, this is definitely not what they taught you in class. But you know how long it would take them to compile all the information they’ve gathered and get around to questioning suspects.

You yourself have worked the clues over in your head. You seen them for what they truly are, answers. Not to the answer that’s been brewing In you head since you came upon this. But the answer, to who did this crime to your family. Now you will go and confront them to ask the why. Falling to your knees you let the grief claim you, as it always wanted to do. The cops don’t know how to comfort you the way you want to be. They leave you to your grief, as it’s weight crushes you to the ground. Pools of water form on the ground, created by your own eyes. Snapping your head up, you realize you need something before you are suppose to leave the house.
You pull up to their house. Normally you couldn’t enter the house without an arrest warrant. But you don’t care about those things at this present moment. You remember playing here for hours on end, with your best friend. Staying out late in the back yard, under the stars you both stood as one. The why is pounding harder in your head, it feels like it will burst out soon. Patting the front of your pants and the new bulge that appears on your shirt, you get out of the car. You should feel lucky that you remembered where dad hid it. Yet the feeling it brings isn’t one of security, but rage. They wait for you as you stroll up to their room. You’ve walked these stairs many times; you can see the wear from your childhood steps on them. Opening the door, they sit there smiling as a puppy would to greet their master. You produce your dad’s gun from your pants; your knuckles bleed as you grip down hard on the handle of it. Asking them the question that’s been there the whole time; “Why did you do this to me?” They cock their head back with a devious grin, and replay “whatever are you talking about?”

You go on to explain the clues you’ve found to them. The fact neither of your parents showed signs of a fight, as they knew who the attacker was. A wallet laid out on your dad’s leg with money still in it, just threw you off of it being a robbery. The gum that was the only kind you remember your best friend chewing. The fact a third plate was set at the dinner table. Finally it was the phone call that threw everything together. Your friend was expected to dinner, and he knew you were going to be coming home the next day and find out what happened. They set it all up for you to find. You give your friend and odd look as they claps their hands together, smiling a wicked grin.

“Bravo, you figured it out my little detective. I’m so proud of you,” they calmly says. You shake the gun as you ask again, “Why?” They sit forward give you a hard stare, that makes you think they’re looking through you, “You know exactly why”. You stop to think about it, but can not think of any reason why. They give a grumpy sigh in frustration, “It’s because you left for that school of yours”. You take a step back in shock. “Yes, that’s why I did it. My so called best friend, up and leaves me to be a cop, a dirty cop. But that’s okay now because you’re back, and we can be friends again.” You fall to one knee grabbing your forehead in pain. Thinking how insane he is for killing your family over something like that.

“I see that gun trembling in your hand, your hand is red with anticipation. What will you do?” You place a finger over the trigger of the gun. You process the meaning of justice over, and over in your head as they wait for you to respond. You’ve studied for years in college, but were never prepared for this. Your duty is to turn him over to the authorities to deal with them. It’s what you’ll be doing for the rest of your life. But there’s a calming voice in your head now, as you look at the gun. It’s telling you the answers are inside of it, if only you would press the level to open its door. You think, but what comes next is only the beginning to something else.

Superhero on the way out

Red Guardian stood on the rooftop to the factory as he used his vision to see through it. Making mental notes of how many henchmen he saw as well as where Crymson Blood was. He watched as they loaded the new weapon prototype into their truck. This prototype would sell for millions on the black market, and be used to make more of it's kind. Each one with enough force that could pierce even the toughest of skins. The thought of that sent a shiver down Red Guardian's spine.

He was glad it was only a prototype, but he made sure to keep an eye on it during his patrols. Then he caught wind of the plot through the many voices he could hear. He would of been here soon if it wasn't for the hostage situation down on main street, and the kidnapping of the mayor's daughter by Emerald Whip. Oh and we can't forget the invasion from the sewer rat people. But that was ten minutes well spent, if it meant helping people. Red Guardian smiled to himself as he looked up into the night sky. The full moon looked beautiful as it floated high above him. He noted that he'll have to pay it another visit soon. Red Guardians feet began to tremble as the roof gave way beneath him.

The stones fell swiftly to the ground, making an audible noise that all in the factory could hear. Red Guardian softly touched the ground, being as graceful as a dancer. Everyone had their eyes on him some with shock, others with awe, but one burned with anger at the sight of him. Crymson Blood snapped his fingers, sending his goons into a rage as if they were mind controlled by him. Each one willfully through themselves at Red Guardian. Not a care in the world of their own health, only of protecting their master. But none of them could hurt Red Guardian, as he just stood there keeping his attention to Crymson Blood. As the henchmen wore themselves out, Red Guardian stomped his foot sending them all flying away. His target was attempting to get away with the prototype.

Red Guardian calmly grabbed the rear of the truck as Crymson was trying to drive away. Red Guardian tore the rear axle out of the truck preventing it from ever moving again. This drove Crymson to dive out of the truck, just as Guardian was preparing to launch it into the river. Preventing Crymson and anyone else from getting the prototype. Crymson grunted in anger as he reached for his belt taking out a vial of yellow liquid. Inserting the vial into his skin through several needles which leaked out the contents into Crymson's veins.

Crymson began to cackle as he looked at Red Guardian. Crymson's muscles and bones began to twist and expand. His strength increasing by the second, his hopes to rival Red Guardians. Red Guardian knew he was about to get a challenge he was hoping for from this villain. They flew at each other colliding fists that sent a shock wave, shattering all glass in the factory. Both giving each other a smile as their fists continued to contact with the other's. Crymson shifted his body after the last contact to use the momentum to put extra force into a low kick that would unbalance Red Guardian.

Grabbing Red Guardians cape, Crymson twirled around and flung his opponent through several walls to land outside of the factory. Smiling to himself at the thought of finally beating his nemesis. He began to walk towards the area he tossed his foe, hoping to see him battered and bloodied. But a rush of wind brushed up against his skin, sending a tingle throughout his body. He began to turn around only to be blinded by a barrage of fists that were to fast for him to react to. Crymson cursed his foolishness and the lack of his talents, not giving him the powers to prevent this. But he felt tired as he fell to the ground, the remaining time to his vial would be used keeping him from going comatose from the beating.

The cops came to clean up after Red Guardian. He waved and shook hands, even giving a couple of autographs before he had to leave. Another job well done for the night, and it was due time for some rest. As Red Guardian flew home, he felt a strange sensation throughout his body. Landing at a nearby park, he placed a hand to chest. His heart was racing, as if it wanted to be set free from it's confine. His breathing started to fight for each breath, his mind raced with possibilities.

Turning his attention to the area around him. Listening for heartbeats or voices of other people nearby. But nothing but the beats of animals and the raging beat of his own heart. Was this some kind of attack, he thought to himself. Some new adversary making their appearance, but nothing alerted his senses.

The wind blew lightly, swaying his cloak with it's push. Red Guardian looked over his shoulder, thinking he felt someone touch it. The burning in his chest began to subside and he breathed a little easier now. Red Guardian looked up at the stars, wondering what all of this meant for him. But a cry for help, three blocks away, took his attention away from the matter at hand. He'll worry about it tomorrow.

Customers!!

Why do customers make your spleen implode? Or something like that. Why does even a single question from one send shivers up and down your spine?

Because customers are demon spawns.

You have the customers who prefer to give you a twenty dollar bill or higher for a fifty cent item. Because they think of you as a bank, that you're full of money for them to exploit. And when you ask them if they have anything smaller, they sneer and say no. Even though some DO have the change, they just don't want you to have it. You watch your tens and five spots dwindle from the register as you fork over this change to those people. And there's no help from anyone or anything else in the store, to stop this loss of change.

So you quietly hold in the aggression to not try and confront the people about their lack of smaller change. But jail time seems like a better compromise then dealing with this atrocity.

You also get the customers who seem to want to blame you for their mistakes. Remember the saying "The customer is always right." Well I'll never believe that not till every customer can prove that to me. "But it's on sale in this ad here." my reply, "That's next weeks ad." SEE!!
"The money is stuck up in the ATM, and the receipt says it gave me the full amount." My reply, "Well you're suppose to let it fall out on it's own, and not attempt to catch it, and also if you look a the bottom of the receipt, it says it only shows you received this amount."

Then there was the customer who wouldn't take the presidential (early release dollar ones)/Sacajawea dollar coins because there wasn't "In god we trust" on the coin, till I showed him it was on the rounded sides. "But it's not clearly labeled on the coin." WHO THE HELL CARES! Do you really want to put god on dirty money? You know how corrupted these dollars and coins are, what half of them have been used for? And you hope god will save those dollars used to buy drugs or pay off killers? I shall smite thee for using that dollar to slide down that hookers butt crack and not medicine for your brain disease.

Yes people trust god I understand, but what makes a difference if it appears or not on the coin, and in plain view? Omg, do you examine every one to make sure it's there, or you just following along with others who complain cause it's too sunny in their garden?!

Deer Season ... no it's rabbit season!

So another year has crept it's ugly head around. I was hearing rumors of it's return but I laughed them off as superstition. Till I saw them, or thought I did. They hide so well with their surroundings, the only thing giving off their location was the pile of beer cans forming a circle around them. And the occasional belches from nowhere. They waited for me to open up and acknowledge them in their camouflaged overalls. Yep folks it's another Deer Hunting Season.

They'll stand around and tell tall tales to each other about how they scored their deer. Everyone hanging on to the others words as if they were a pile of gold poo. Then they'll chuckle and recant their tale adding in more details then needed on how their perfect target the legendary 30+ pointer was ruined; somehow by another deer half it's size popping up and taking the hit instead.
After their bellys stop vibrating it's gelatin like form, they scratch themselves and then compare guns.

When I finally get information from one, I take him from the pack as the others start into song on the proper way to skin a buck. This one leads me to his Ford Taurus, and I head to the back as he stares at me in the most odd way. I wait for him to come to me and open the trunk of his car but yet he stands motionless near the rear seat, passenger door side. Cautiously he opens the door as if whatever is behind the door will be ready to strike or escape the confides of his car. I venture over to his position as he proudly stands by the opened door for me to look at what he has sprawled out in the child's seat.

It's Bambi of a deer; no wait, it was even smaller then Bambi. This could be Bambi's younger, sickly cousin whose mother only job was to bang her head against trees all day. It's eyes, well eye the other one was hanging out loosely by a single fabric of vein, looked up at me in a sad expression saying "oh my god this guy is pathetic". I told the guy to hold his head in shame, as we returned to the others.

I dread to see the others who brought in their deers, with it's head half destroyed because he felt cool in holding the gun so close to the deer that it could of stuck it's foot in the barrel and said "what's up doc."

Yes another freaking deer season is here.

Final Destination - The movie Theatre

So it was my birthday, but just for one day mind you. I would have to wait a whole year before another one would come around.

Mom was anxious to take me somewhere for it. Oh you're thirty-three we should do something special. Special for you I thought, as you have sucked the life force out of me thirty-two other years why should this one be any different. She likes to see movies as if they are going out of style.

So I decided we would go see a movie. Even though I prefer to curl up in the fetal position and cry myself to sleep. Oh the fun days I had in that position, sometimes people would poke me with sticks and call me nice names. Anyways, looking at the paper for possible targets of my attention to go see. I noticed Final Destination, and thought I liked some of those movies, maybe it was just the 1st one.

But what really caught my attention, was the 3-D part of the title. I thought wow, that will make the hour and half just fly by with fun; as I would gaze up looking for body parts to smack me in the face. Seeing everything in 3-D would make life worth living. Even a 3-D noose sounded appealing sometimes. But who would of guessed my choice in movies would be a disaster.

We sat down just the 2 of us and 2 other people who decided to venture to this movie as well. They must of had the same thought as me, and I laughed and plotted their deaths for copying me. The screen flickered to life with the previews. Those wonderful, wacky previews who gave me a false hope of something good coming to the screen at a predetermined time.

So the movie began like any other, with explosions and ooo's and aaah's from my mind. In 3-D versions of those mind you. So after the 3 minutes of that, my mind went to mush. I was hoping for more, but was left lacking the strong desires of movie magic. Why was I lied to by those words "Final Destination?" Oh how you got me Hollywood, yet again. My body went limp with the dark desires of credits appearing soon.

I looked back to the people behind me, and thought I saw them gouging out the others eyes. But they were playing dentist as I was told by my sex-ed teacher. Never knew guys did that sort of thing with each other. So then I turned to my mom whose eyes were fixated on the low quality of acting. She absorbed every inch of ill-plotted special effects magic. Coming to realize I would never escape this movie till all were killed, I decided to make the best of it and try to enjoy the movie.

..... I want to pull out my brain and throw it against the screen. Riot against the movie projector I say!!