THE RATIONAL POST – SLANG HUGH – “Nas’ 8th Album / The 14th Letter”

“Nas’ 8th Album / the 14th Letter”

Chink.  Kike. Wetback.  Faggot.  Paki. Even Bitch!  And the list of derogatory and insulting titles goes on.   These words used for hate, harm and hurt.  All words with a vast and horrid history behind their “definitions”.  All words created by evil, racist, ignorant, misogynists, with nothing but ill intent in their hearts.  All of these words are widely considered forbidden.  Taboos that should have long been tossed in a time capsule and buried.  Something that has been long forgotten, only remembered in conversation about history and how far we have come as human beings from the time of that archaic way to speak.   And yet they still exist and are still used by many.  Maybe not so much publicly, but definitely uttered under breaths, in cars, and directed at someone with a different color skin, or appearance than you.  Who can fathom such words being deemed as everyday vernacular, and even worse, as cool.  But then there is the N word.  Yes, yes the infamous and perhaps famous N word.  Nigger.  A word that, as a black man is even hard to type or write, never mind to utter.  Yet it seems to be the one derogatory term that has been able to circumvent the simple security of probably the most  basic of human rights.  The right to not be called offensive names based on who you are, or what you look like. And yet it’s nigger that has seemed to obtain this level of social acceptance by some.  My question is why? Why has it, the most historically negative title, become so desirable to use in everyday vernacular?

I guess Hip hop music shares some of the blame.   With its growth in popularity came a rise in the normalcy applied to some of the culturally specific language.   Especially the negative ones, bitch, hoe, and of course Nigger.  A genre born from the very streets that exemplify what oppression is in North America.  Ironically, this art form, that is largely responsible for giving upper class white Americans a view into the world of poverty, racism and subjugation, is now also responsible for giving the green light to anyone who feels “black enough” to use the N word.  I guess, by extension, we could just point our judgemental fingers at the very same people the word was created to make victims of.  Black People.  A word that once left a bee swarm sized sting, in the wake of its pronunciation, has been reclaimed by its victims, as a term of endearment.  Jay-Z made this perspective, a worldwide announcement when he told Oprah that “we give words power” He explained, “We took a word that was very hurtful and turned it into a term of endearment.”  Even I must admit there is brilliance in this way of thinking.  In theory.  However, in practice it’s the equivalent to a rape victim greeting the members of their support group with “what up Rapes!!??!!” Somehow it doesn’t have the same ring of genius anymore huh?  Then to reinforce this idea, is what I like to call The Black Millennials theory.  Yes the same generation that is aggressively trying to destroy everything their parents and aunts and uncles grew up believing.  Everything from gender titles to the flat earthers, it is all under reconstruction.  And the N word is not exempt.  Another rapper Kendrick Lamar recently put another spin on the usage, on his album To Pimp a Butterfly where he said in a preacher like voice “N-E-G-U-S, definition: royalty, king, royalty.  Wait listen, N-E-G-U-S description: black ruler,” at the end of the live version of “i”.  Retitling the Nigger as Negus which refers to a brand of African royalty.  When asked by HipHopDX if he was trying to reclaim the N word, he responded with, “We’ve been trying to do it,” he says. “It still never translates and is appeasing to the ear. This is a start and that was the purpose for it… It’s been under our nose for years, but we all are kings at the end of the day.”  Again, brilliant in theory!!  Who am I to criticize the idea of changing an expression of pain into a term that refers to greatness?  But again the practice of this notion is flawed. Black boys and girls are not calling each other nigger with the word King and Queen in their subconscious. The intent maybe positive, but if I as a rapist, was in love with my victim, does that make the way I chose to express any less sickening?!?  I can appreciate the attempts that these 2 theories are making toward change, but I remain very unsure that the new definition will outlast the old.  In fact I’d go further and say that many of these advocates for saying the word, are still upset by any non-black person uttering the same phrase.  Indifferent of whether or not it’s meant as an insult or an acknowledgment of an ally, most blacks will not accept someone outside the community calling them a nigger.  Is this a contradiction?  Maybe to some, but not to me.  The world has to realize that it is not the place of an outsider to dictate the actions, rules and laws of those on the inside.   Or simply put, I can call my brother stupid and get away with it, but let someone outside of the family call him stupid, and see what happens!!

And as I often do, I’ll leave you with this story from my childhood….

I was about 6 or 7 years old, when I first had THE WORD, aimed in my direction, with blatant intent to harm.  It stung even before I could comprehend the reason for the pain.   I was shocked by the holder of the weapon.  It didn’t come from a classmate.  No it didn’t come from an adolescent, or a peer who could blame immature ignorance for the unnecessary spew of verbal garbage hurled toward me.  It came from an adult, and was directed not only at me but several of my friends as well.  I have never forgotten that day or that feeling.  And no amount of reclaiming or redefining of the word Nigger will wipe away that memory.

– SLANG HUGH

Slang Hugh can be found on instagram @slanghugh.

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a city in her name – i.JAMES.JONES.

p(ART) TWO from the series LAST NIGHT AN 8-TRACK SAVED MY LIFE – i.JAMES.JONES.

 

BENNY the ANGRY PENNY (FIRST SKETCHES)

The first project under development by the BP KIDS wing of the boldPIGEON.

Created by KUMALO & JONES (N.L. KUMALO / i.james.jones), the “FIRST SKETCHES” gives us an early look at BENEDICT VON COPPERBOTTOM aka “BENNY THE ANGRY PENNY”, an ornery (and quite possibly misunderstood and under-appreciated) old coin, and the adventures which made him so.

 

 

“Child Support” – KUMALO

N.L. KUMALO seems on a path to become the most interesting man you will ever know.

Currently re-vamping his epic novel “Simon’s Song”, and re-mixing his “Tunnel At The End Of The Light”Ep, while working to illustrate some projects for the BP KIDS… Kumalo pays the rent chefing it up in one of Toronto’s more popular kitchens.

The man and his story are  captivating.  So to are the stories he weaves when he puts on that thinking cap and works to give form to the ideas and characters that occupy his ever active brain.

“Child Support” is an amazingly vivid picture of too many modern relationships. Written/Produced and Performed by N.L. Kumalo.

The video came about while we were borrowing some office space in a Rehearsal Factory.  The challenge became, what could we accomplish with a cell phone, an old version of iMovie, and a few hours.

The result, a boldPIGEON PRESENTATION

 

 

“BAD BOY DUBS” by STAGGERQUAKE

Toronto based production duo STAGGERQUAKE are Monsters. The only thing that could stop them would be some brizzaro other version of themselves. (Which is, somehow… in a comic book kind of way,  not altogether unlikely).

Click to see”BAD BOY DUBS” gets the boldPIGEON treatment. Watch It Now.

For more STAGGERQUAKE

soundcloud.com/staggerquake

on Twitter – @STAGGERQUAKE

 

 

LAST NIGHT AN 8-TRACK SAVED MY LIFE (pART one) – “Dark of Night” – i.james.jones

LAST NIGHT AN 8-TRACK SAVED MY LIFE                                               click to watch – (pART ONE – “DARK OF NIGHT” ) – i.james.jones. Many will recognize i.james.jones. for his work as an emcee, most noteably as one half of the duo The Names Are Known. Some may even be familiar with his involvement as drummer for the mysterious Toronto City Riot. But far too few have had the opportunity to take in the sounds of his solo work. Waiting to be found within his now extensive archive of lost albums and unreleased passion projects is the series the boldPIGEON is proud unveil as LAST NIGHT AN 8-TRACK SAVED MY LIFE. Originally intended as an album of lo-fi singer/songwriter gems, LAST NIGHT AN 8-TRACK SAVED MY LIFE is a departure from i.james’s released material, as he leaves behind the bars for uniquely crafted, moody and introspective compositions which disregard traditional song structures to create pieces which sneak inside the listeners consciousness and transports them into the world of an artist pealing back the layers of bravado and conventions of his recognized material to create a sound that is emotionally true and daringly honest. Recorded entirely on 8-Track at the WayOut (his former home in Parkdale, Toronto), during a period i.james describes as “saturated with reclusive madness” pART ONE – “DARK OF NIGHT” features Jones on guitars and vocals in a mode that is sure to surprise fans of the emcee. Take in the video (a boldPIGEON Presentation) and download the song for free at www.soundcloud.com/boldpigeon For More from i.james.jones. KEEP WATCHING THE BOLD PIGEON. – boldPIGEON.COM

“A Witch Like Me”. – Chapter One: Jawbone by P.M. Kumalo (a boldPIGEON presentation)

 

Click to view the video trailer.

Chapter 1: Jawbone 

OGRE

Children are the best. They are innocent before you

ruin them with you rules, your ‘culture’! They are

the tastiest! (He laughs menacingly). Then it’s the old

surprisingly, they have the honesty of youth but with

the wisdom of age. They know which of society’s rules

are good and which are just bullshit! They can tell you

if what you doing is just stupid, dangerous, or ruinous.

A horny lot too! But, you never know not here, not like

the old days.

 

A heavy forearm emerges from the folds of the coat and thick brick like fingers stir the pot. He takes as second serving spoon but in his hands it’s the size of a teaspoon and pours the broth from the ladle into the serving spoon. He sips it and through the darkness nods approvingly. He tends the fire in the fireplace with a vintage and ornate iron poker. The flames roar approvingly.

 

ORGE

I hate it when those filthy TV chefs taste directly from the

The ladle they will serve you with! Disgusting! This

however might be my best broth in a while. (He shakes in a large cylindrical

packet of salt into the cauldron)

Now where was I?

 

WITCH

You were talking about the old…

 

OGRE

Ah yes. Don’t bother struggling that chain was forged

from the same shooting star that gave the world

the sword you know as Excalibur! That is old magic!

Why do they send them so young to meet their end? Let me

guess some strange old man or woman which was it?

 

WITCH

A ..woman.

 

OGRE

Ah the question in your tone tells me it must be

An Obfuscate, sometimes looking like a man, other

times like a woman? (He laughs)

Ah they bring them young to die. Usually around

Puberty or young adulthood; you were a bit of an

outcast and this ‘woman’ told you, you had a special

destiny right? You are go to on a quest and recover

some magical objects right? You want this right?

 

He holds out an old battle axe with markings reeking, age, high learning, mystery and culture.

 

OGRE

This is from the jaw bone of an animal now extinct.

This edge is not gold it’s a metal that found nowhere

Except the little valley in the

Congo; where I killed the miner, oh five thousand

years ago… It can cut anything! I don’t even

remember the name of it now.

 

The Ogre leans forward into the light and we can see he has a thick browridge, deep intense eyes a broad nose, and a projecting chin. He is heavily built like an old time strong man from faded pictures from the early 20^th century. His muscles do work, they are not for show. Where it not for the modern rags he wore he would look like an archaic homo sapien or a Neanderthal from a display at the Museum of Natural History.

The witch gasps.

 

OGRE

Yes. How old did you think we are? You have

no idea who you are fucking with.

 

Now his shape changes and he enlarges and the loose rags become tight fitting and his face takes on a demonic simian mien. His shadow now dominates the hotel room. His voice takes on an accent she has never heard before.

 

OGRE

We have been here since the world was sung

into existence! Since the Spirit walked over

the Earth and made it so! Since your Sky Father chose

you and your pathetic naked ape kind to rule!

Since you started to infect this place and shit on

everything! (Spittle flies from his mouth)

 

He collects himself and returns to his Neanderthal form breathing heavily!

 

WITCH

I had no idea (She starts to cry). I am sorry

but you killed those girls!

 

OGRE

So what! Where you going to take them into

you home? Were you going to wait while they

detoxed, for the ninth, tenth, eleventh time!

Were you going to out your fathers and brothers

who got their rocks of the backseat of your “SUVs”

with a drug addled teenager from up north! No!

You hypocrites! In the old days these things never

would have happened! Everybody knew everyone’s

business for good or ill! Do you know how many

of your filthy boy lovers and pederasts I have

stewed in my time? I was doing you a favour! Now

this Obfuscate comes to end me with you? A teenage witch!

 

WITCH

Tabitha was eleven and she was a kid! You killed

her!

 

OGRE

I told you children are the best; then old people,

then youth and finally the regular people. I can

Taste their jobs on their flesh; amourer, blacksmith

whore, milkmaid, carpenter, seamstress, millwright,

plumber, Head shop owner, shaman, priest, monk, imam,

Sheppard, goatherd, pilot, musician, troubadours, model

not much mean on them these days. Actors, milliners

haberdasheries, peace officers, knights, pages,

senators, gladiators, pyramid builders and worst of

all politicians, well the bad ones anyways!

And now you!

 

He suddenly grabs her by the throat and his meaty hand covers her mouth! The force nearly knocks her over!

 

ORGE

Don’t whisper in my presence! If you do it again

I will sew your mouth shut!

 

She nods. He sets her down.

 

OGRE

Time will come soon enough for you to die.

It doesn’t have to be too painful! Why oh

Why do they send you her. The Wizards and

Witches, Seers and Dabblers? I’ll tell you why

Because they are afraid! They cannot contain the

Magic they know. At some point the good ones

get to be too strong for their own good. Why does

your Obfuscate wear so many belts and bracelets?

To contain the power! Same as your wedding rings

Its supposed to keep the love encircled. Love is

more powerful than you can imagine. Wait

why are you wearing a belt!

 

Suddenly the Ogre leaps forward just as the belt from the witches’ waist leaps forward in the form of a snake. With his mighty axe he tries to slice the snake but misses. The snake now ramrod straight bites him in the eye!

 

The Ogre lets out a mighty yell and he rips out the snake taking his eye with it! He tosses the snake on the ground and slices it with the battle axe. The room of the actually shakes and sends up a puffs of dust from the furniture draped in a muddy grey covered cloths. The chair bound witch falls over.

 

ORGE

You wench I will eat you alive! You will

take days to die!

 

The Witch whispers, quickly and intently as the Ogre looms over her. She is looking at the fire.

 

OGRE

Heads or tails?(ha-ha)

 

He brings the axe over head and makes to cut her waist. Suddenly a red hot poker pierces the Ogre’s chest! Red, almost purple blood spouts out of the wound and spills on the floor; rotting the wood. He looks incredulously at the young Witch.

 

WITCH

I prefer poker!

 

OGRE

Ha, ha, very funny….

 

He falls over and dies his body weight cracking the floor boards.

The witch breaths a sign or relief, and whispers a spell to undo the chains. It doesn’t work.

 

AUNT DANICE

Perhaps this key will work.

 

The witch looks to and sees the Obfuscate, looking approvingly at her. She European woman, she still has the look of vitality and you get the sense she likes herself still. Despite the hour she has her makeup on and her long grey hair combed neatly and held back by a headband. Her sweater top dark blouse and pencil skirt are accented by several silver and gold rings and she wear two belts at jaunty angles.

The young witch is glad to see hear.

 

 

INT. TOM SUTTON’S COFFEE SHOP-NIGHT

The franchise coffee shop is decorated in a mildly inoffensive brown and cream colour scheme. The waitresses behind the counter, four of them; women, range the gamut from an eager teenager, to a single mother weathered by cigarettes an disappointments, a sedate university student, with a well worn copy of the latest Twilight book in her back pocket and the middle aged assistant manager who looks like everyone’s mom and no ones at the same time.

There is a glut of young clientele right now undoubtedly killing time until the late show across the parking lot begins.

 

AUNT DANICE

Boy I love the rhubarb pie here. Of course I knew

the original baker of the pie…

 

YOUNG WITCH (Interrupting)

Let me guess, with the Flintstones or was it with

Cleopatra’s chef’s cousin!

 

AUNT DANICE

Sarcasm is the last refuge of a weak mind.

 

YOUNG WITCH

Then pass me the dunce cap.

 

AUNT DANNICE

Clever, most people these days don’t know what

that is. What is it? The Ogre?

 

YOUNG WITCH

Yah think?

 

AUNT DANICE

Listen child! I am not your weakling mother!

You will speak to me with respect! Don’t make

me take off my rings because then I will bring the

the pain! Hear me!

 

Here eyes flash with anger and a stern malevolence, like teacher who has had enough from an unruly class.

 

YOUNG WITCH

Yes.

 

AUNT DANICE

Now there are two types of respect; the type that

is given because someone is older or more experienced

and the type you earn through acts that merit

respect. I would like to think I have earned

both from you. I respect you so please respect

me, Jordan. Is that fair Miss Bonkhe?

 

JORDAN BONKHE/YOUNG WITCH

Yes. Aunt Danice.

 

AUNT DANICE

Now have your Tom Poms and I promise by the last

one you will feel great!

 

Jordan looks down at the box full of ball shaped donuts between them. Cheerleaders with confectionary shaped pompoms cheer on the football player Tom Sutton in an idealized portrait from his playing days. She takes one of the raisin encrusted ones and chases it with chai.

 

JORDAN BONKHE

Like Jack Burton and Wang Chi great?

 

AUNT DANICE

Well yes but probably more like Wang Chi.

 

EXT/INT. TOM SUTTON COFEE SHOP-NIGHT

The youthful patrons have emptied the Coffee shop by now. The eager teen waitress is chatting with the young mother by the take out window. The university student is manning the till while sneaking looks at latest page of her book. The Assistant manager is making her rounds clearing the tables of old newspapers and crockery.

 

AUNT DANICE

Look at the sign?

 

The witch turns to see a help wanted sign. It reads: Needed Servers for Night shift. Ask for applications at the front counter.

 

JORDAN

Yeah what’s wrong with it?

 

AUNT DANICE

A server? What is that? I mean do they serve a cause

or do they clean Apollo’s stables? Do they attend

the Queen of Lapta or Kings of Torumekia? That is the

problem with language today; no precision. What is

wrong with waitress?

 

JORDAN

I guess they don’t want to offend anyone, you know.

 

AUNT DANICE

The thing is no I don’t know. Why is a manhunt

okay but chairwoman is verboten? Miss is okay

but somehow Mrs. is bad these days. Last time

I checked most men cowered before their wives

I should know I have been both!

 

JORDAN

Wow that was really too much information.

Well everybody has to be included you know.

Everyone is special.

 

AUNT DANICE

Ha! You mean girls like your nemesis Cathy

Cirko. You should have seen her ancestor.

Cir means boil in Croatian! She was hideous.

 

JORDAN

Yeah but I can’t say ‘oh yeah at least my name

doesn’t mean boil in Croatian!’ She’d say

Thanks “Dickipedia nerd!’ I mean ‘Cirko the

Jerko?’ That kind of roles off the tongue

but she’s “perfect” have you seen her?

Of course you have.

 

AUNT DANICE

Actually she is not ‘perfect’, her cousin who lives with

her family and is in the seminary lusts after her.

Oh, she drops E occasionally when she goes

clubbing. If she doesn’t get help soon it she could

end up being a crack whore in the future.

Literally.

 

JORDAN

How did you know? Let me guess her cat told

you this morning?

 

AUNT DANICE

Yes actually she did. A Persian, pampered but

a great mouser when she is allowed out. I hope

that was not a guess on your part but a back cast.

 

JORDAN

You know I back casted a little. Why do you

ask questions to which you know the answers.

 

AUNT DANICE

To keep conversation interesting besides you

can’t send thoughts clearly, yet.

 

JORDAN

So you know what I am thinking?

 

AUNT DANICE

Actually no. I can guess. Reading minds

becomes boring after a while even if you can

do it. Besides talking to you and coaching while

it is slower is harder and therefore more rewarding

in some ways. It gives us both time to think

before opening our minds and mouths.

I think you want to know about what

that Ogre said.

 

JORDAN

Yes.

 

AUNT DANICE

Well what did he say? I guess he said a lot.

They do love to talk.

OGRE

Children are the best. They are innocent before you

ruin them with you rules, your ‘culture’! They are

the tastiest! (He laughs menacingly). Then it’s the old

surprisingly, they have the honesty of youth but with

the wisdom of age. They know which of society’s rules

are good and which are just bullshit! They can tell you

if what you doing is just stupid, dangerous, or ruinous.

A horny lot too! But, you never know not here, not like

the old days.

 

A heavy forearm emerges from the folds of the coat and thick brick like fingers stir the pot. He takes as second serving spoon but in his hands it’s the size of a teaspoon and pours the broth from the ladle into the serving spoon. He sips it and through the darkness nods approvingly. He tends the fire in the fireplace with a vintage and ornate iron poker. The flames roar approvingly.

 

ORGE

I hate it when those filthy TV chefs taste directly from the

The ladle they will serve you with! Disgusting! This

however might be my best broth in a while. (He shakes in a large cylindrical

packet of salt into the cauldron)

Now where was I?

 

WITCH

You were talking about the old…

 

OGRE

Ah yes. Don’t bother struggling that chain was forged

from the same shooting star that gave the world

the sword you know as Excalibur! That is old magic!

Why do they send them so young to meet their end? Let me

guess some strange old man or woman which was it?

 

WITCH

A ..woman.

 

OGRE

Ah the question in your tone tells me it must be

An Obfuscate, sometimes looking like a man, other

times like a woman? (He laughs)

Ah they bring them young to die. Usually around

Puberty or young adulthood; you were a bit of an

outcast and this ‘woman’ told you, you had a special

destiny right? You are go to on a quest and recover

some magical objects right? You want this right?

 

He holds out an old battle axe with markings reeking, age, high learning, mystery and culture.

 

OGRE

This is from the jaw bone of an animal now extinct.

This edge is not gold it’s a metal that found nowhere

Except the little valley in the

Congo; where I killed the miner, oh five thousand

years ago… It can cut anything! I don’t even

remember the name of it now.

 

The Ogre leans forward into the light and we can see he has a thick browridge, deep intense eyes a broad nose, and a projecting chin. He is heavily built like an old time strong man from faded pictures from the early 20^th century. His muscles do work, they are not for show. Where it not for the modern rags he wore he would look like an archaic homo sapien or a Neanderthal from a display at the Museum of Natural History.

The witch gasps.

 

OGRE

Yes. How old did you think we are? You have

no idea who you are fucking with.

 

Now his shape changes and he enlarges and the loose rags become tight fitting and his face takes on a demonic simian mien. His shadow now dominates the hotel room. His voice takes on an accent she has never heard before.

 

OGRE

We have been here since the world was sung

into existence! Since the Spirit walked over

the Earth and made it so! Since your Sky Father chose

you and your pathetic naked ape kind to rule!

Since you started to infect this place and shit on

everything! (Spittle flies from his mouth)

 

He collects himself and returns to his Neanderthal form breathing heavily!

 

WITCH

I had no idea (She starts to cry). I am sorry

but you killed those girls!

 

OGRE

So what! Where you going to take them into

you home? Were you going to wait while they

detoxed, for the ninth, tenth, eleventh time!

Were you going to out your fathers and brothers

who got their rocks of the backseat of your “SUVs”

with a drug addled teenager from up north! No!

You hypocrites! In the old days these things never

would have happened! Everybody knew everyone’s

business for good or ill! Do you know how many

of your filthy boy lovers and pederasts I have

stewed in my time? I was doing you a favour! Now

this Obfuscate comes to end me with you? A teenage witch!

 

WITCH

Tabitha was eleven and she was a kid! You killed

her!

 

OGRE

I told you children are the best; then old people,

then youth and finally the regular people. I can

Taste their jobs on their flesh; amourer, blacksmith

whore, milkmaid, carpenter, seamstress, millwright,

plumber, Head shop owner, shaman, priest, monk, imam,

Sheppard, goatherd, pilot, musician, troubadours, model

not much mean on them these days. Actors, milliners

haberdasheries, peace officers, knights, pages,

senators, gladiators, pyramid builders and worst of

all politicians, well the bad ones anyways!

And now you!

 

He suddenly grabs her by the throat and his meaty hand covers her mouth! The force nearly knocks her over!

 

ORGE

Don’t whisper in my presence! If you do it again

I will sew your mouth shut!

 

She nods. He sets her down.

 

OGRE

Time will come soon enough for you to die.

It doesn’t have to be too painful! Why oh

Why do they send you her. The Wizards and

Witches, Seers and Dabblers? I’ll tell you why

Because they are afraid! They cannot contain the

Magic they know. At some point the good ones

get to be too strong for their own good. Why does

your Obfuscate wear so many belts and bracelets?

To contain the power! Same as your wedding rings

Its supposed to keep the love encircled. Love is

more powerful than you can imagine. Wait

why are you wearing a belt!

 

Suddenly the Ogre leaps forward just as the belt from the witches’ waist leaps forward in the form of a snake. With his mighty axe he tries to slice the snake but misses. The snake now ramrod straight bites him in the eye!

 

The Ogre lets out a mighty yell and he rips out the snake taking his eye with it! He tosses the snake on the ground and slices it with the battle axe. The room of the actually shakes and sends up a puffs of dust from the furniture draped in a muddy grey covered cloths. The chair bound witch falls over.

 

ORGE

You wench I will eat you alive! You will

take days to die!

 

The Witch whispers, quickly and intently as the Ogre looms over her. She is looking at the fire.

 

OGRE

Heads or tails?(ha-ha)

 

He brings the axe over head and makes to cut her waist. Suddenly a red hot poker pierces the Ogre’s chest! Red, almost purple blood spouts out of the wound and spills on the floor; rotting the wood. He looks incredulously at the young Witch.

 

WITCH

I prefer poker!

 

OGRE

Ha, ha, very funny….

 

He falls over and dies his body weight cracking the floor boards.

The witch breaths a sign or relief, and whispers a spell to undo the chains. It doesn’t work.

 

AUNT DANICE

Perhaps this key will work.

 

The witch looks to and sees the Obfuscate, looking approvingly at her. She European woman, she still has the look of vitality and you get the sense she likes herself still. Despite the hour she has her makeup on and her long grey hair combed neatly and held back by a headband. Her sweater top dark blouse and pencil skirt are accented by several silver and gold rings and she wear two belts at jaunty angles.

The young witch is glad to see hear.

 

 

INT. TOM SUTTON’S COFFEE SHOP-NIGHT

The franchise coffee shop is decorated in a mildly inoffensive brown and cream colour scheme. The waitresses behind the counter, four of them; women, range the gamut from an eager teenager, to a single mother weathered by cigarettes an disappointments, a sedate university student, with a well worn copy of the latest Twilight book in her back pocket and the middle aged assistant manager who looks like everyone’s mom and no ones at the same time.

There is a glut of young clientele right now undoubtedly killing time until the late show across the parking lot begins.

 

AUNT DANICE

Boy I love the rhubarb pie here. Of course I knew

the original baker of the pie…

 

YOUNG WITCH (Interrupting)

Let me guess, with the Flintstones or was it with

Cleopatra’s chef’s cousin!

 

AUNT DANICE

Sarcasm is the last refuge of a weak mind.

 

YOUNG WITCH

Then pass me the dunce cap.

 

AUNT DANNICE

Clever, most people these days don’t know what

that is. What is it? The Ogre?

 

YOUNG WITCH

Yah think?

 

AUNT DANICE

Listen child! I am not your weakling mother!

You will speak to me with respect! Don’t make

me take off my rings because then I will bring the

the pain! Hear me!

 

Here eyes flash with anger and a stern malevolence, like teacher who has had enough from an unruly class.

 

YOUNG WITCH

Yes.

 

AUNT DANICE

Now there are two types of respect; the type that

is given because someone is older or more experienced

and the type you earn through acts that merit

respect. I would like to think I have earned

both from you. I respect you so please respect

me, Jordan. Is that fair Miss Bonkhe?

 

JORDAN BONKHE/YOUNG WITCH

Yes. Aunt Danice.

 

AUNT DANICE

Now have your Tom Poms and I promise by the last

one you will feel great!

 

Jordan looks down at the box full of ball shaped donuts between them. Cheerleaders with confectionary shaped pompoms cheer on the football player Tom Sutton in an idealized portrait from his playing days. She takes one of the raisin encrusted ones and chases it with chai.

 

JORDAN BONKHE

Like Jack Burton and Wang Chi great?

 

AUNT DANICE

Well yes but probably more like Wang Chi.

 

EXT/INT. TOM SUTTON COFEE SHOP-NIGHT

The youthful patrons have emptied the Coffee shop by now. The eager teen waitress is chatting with the young mother by the take out window. The university student is manning the till while sneaking looks at latest page of her book. The Assistant manager is making her rounds clearing the tables of old newspapers and crockery.

 

AUNT DANICE

Look at the sign?

 

The witch turns to see a help wanted sign. It reads: Needed Servers for Night shift. Ask for applications at the front counter.

 

JORDAN

Yeah what’s wrong with it?

 

AUNT DANICE

A server? What is that? I mean do they serve a cause

or do they clean Apollo’s stables? Do they attend

the Queen of Lapta or Kings of Torumekia? That is the

problem with language today; no precision. What is

wrong with waitress?

 

JORDAN

I guess they don’t want to offend anyone, you know.

 

AUNT DANICE

The thing is no I don’t know. Why is a manhunt

okay but chairwoman is verboten? Miss is okay

but somehow Mrs. is bad these days. Last time

I checked most men cowered before their wives

I should know I have been both!

 

JORDAN

Wow that was really too much information.

Well everybody has to be included you know.

Everyone is special.

 

AUNT DANICE

Ha! You mean girls like your nemesis Cathy

Cirko. You should have seen her ancestor.

Cir means boil in Croatian! She was hideous.

 

JORDAN

Yeah but I can’t say ‘oh yeah at least my name

doesn’t mean boil in Croatian!’ She’d say

Thanks “Dickipedia nerd!’ I mean ‘Cirko the

Jerko?’ That kind of roles off the tongue

but she’s “perfect” have you seen her?

Of course you have.

 

AUNT DANICE

Actually she is not ‘perfect’, her cousin who lives with

her family and is in the seminary lusts after her.

Oh, she drops E occasionally when she goes

clubbing. If she doesn’t get help soon it she could

end up being a crack whore in the future.

Literally.

 

JORDAN

How did you know? Let me guess her cat told

you this morning?

 

AUNT DANICE

Yes actually she did. A Persian, pampered but

a great mouser when she is allowed out. I hope

that was not a guess on your part but a back cast.

 

JORDAN

You know I back casted a little. Why do you

ask questions to which you know the answers.

 

AUNT DANICE

To keep conversation interesting besides you

can’t send thoughts clearly, yet.

 

JORDAN

So you know what I am thinking?

 

AUNT DANICE

Actually no. I can guess. Reading minds

becomes boring after a while even if you can

do it. Besides talking to you and coaching while

it is slower is harder and therefore more rewarding

in some ways. It gives us both time to think

before opening our minds and mouths.

I think you want to know about what

that Ogre said.

 

JORDAN

Yes.

 

AUNT DANICE

Well what did he say? I guess he said a lot.

They do love to talk.

 

*    *    *    *    *

For More from  ” A WITCH LIKE ME” and P.M. Kumalo, KEEP WATCHING THE BOLD PIGEON. http://www.boldPIGEON.com

“The Storm Before the Calm” from SIMON’S SONG – by N.L. Kumalo (COMPLETE CHAPTER)

A Chapter from SIMON’S SONG By N.L Kumalo (click to view the video trailer).

 

It was Tuesday night when Sheila first heard the words. Oh, she’d thought the words before, most folk do; but she’d never really considered it, not in a real way before that night. Well, almost never.

What she knew, what she had always known was that they were bad. Bone deep, dyed­in­the­wool, B.A.D. Wilful, stubborn, spiteful, and mean­spirited to boot. They, all three of them bullies since toddler hood, her precious triplets, sometimes, she swore they stank of evil. They were identical in every way, one egg evenly split in neat thirds, which even her doctor had said was unlikely to the point of impossibility, but there you go. Other people were fooled by them with their perfectly blond VonTrapp faces, with their naturally neat hair, and warm blue eyes. Proctor, Princeton, and Price, even their honey blond good looks mocked her, she of the gypsy, (her mothers words), skin and too close set eyes complimented by what could, with great generosity, be described as a complicated smile; they were their fathers creatures entire.

Not that he gave a shit, he’d just banged her once, drunk as a lord and twice as rich, he’d passed out right after. A friend of a lousy friend of a co­worker at a god­damned office Christmas fucking party.
“Hum motherfucking bug,” She thought testily, smashing the car into park on that fateful Tuesday eve.

It cascaded through the night, right up and into her window, blowing off the river. The stink made her gag and reel, she staggered slightly in reaction as she opened the door and tasted wrongness in the air. “Jesus weeps!” she thought “that reeks like Hell,” capitalizing the “H” in her own thoughts. Blinking through watering eyes, fighting her gag reflex the while, she savagely barked her shin on a tryke getting out of the car and unthinking hauled in a breath to shout an obscenity into the uncaring ether, but the curse caught in her throat held there by the oily, fetid reek that assailed her

“fuck” Sheila cough­muttered as she made her sore, sickened way to the front door fumbling with her keys.

For her part, she’d hated them as soon as the nurse had foisted the squalling pink bundles of disappointment on her in the nursery. Her resentment only grew as they did, and it didn’t help that her mother had used their birth as an opportunity to move into Sheila’s life and apartment. Running roughshod over her every thought and idea.

“What kind of woman gets knocked up by some guy she doesn’t know?” Was a popular refrain, “ A girl alone can’t raise one baby, never mind three,” was another.
“Thank god your father isn’t here to see this,” rounded out the litany of sufferings her mom favoured.

When she finally died, six months ago, Sheila had cracked the champagne she’d bought for the occasion years ago. Even still, anger bubbled sourly in her gut. A constant companion by now more intimate than any of her lovers.
Not that she’d had many.

Then one night, the one fatal, fateful night in June, it spoke to her, smoothly, wickedly it spoke. “It’d be easy, “ it purred, “ satisfying too. You see the way they look at you, you know its just a matter of time. One fine day they’re gonna getcha. You should get rid of them first.”
“Correct them; Go ahead they’re sleeping, now’s the time.” It whispered, insistent, demanding, cajoling, pleading, unyielding, unstopped. She hadn’t wanted to listen, had no intention of complying. No real intention anyway, but It wouldn’t stop. It never stopped.

It followed her to sleep and spoke to her there. Muttering in her dreams, stoking her desire for revenge. It poured her morning coffee, buttered, (margarined, really), her morning toast, lit her cigarettes. It susserated while she made their lunches and got them ready for school. Always talking, implacable, unbending, undeniable.

And, to tell the truth; a none­too­secret corner of her mind welcomed that smooth authoritive voice. Craved its tone and timbre, listened eagerly, absorbing every syllable, believing every word. In no time at all, that corner grew and grew, metastasizing, darkening.

In the end, she wanted it to never stop and she knew, inside her secret self, that soon it would consume her utterly. At last, desperate, she knew she had to make it stop.
Later, when they found her ankle deep in blood and viscera, her sons lives splattered on the walls, and splattered all over her; she was laughing. Tears streamed down her face cutting blameless channels in her charnel house visage. The voices had finally stopped.

It was Friday night.

*   *   *   *   *

For More from SIMON’S SONG and N.L. Kumalo … KEEP WATCHING THE BOLD PIGEON. http://www.boldPIGEON.com

Twisted Metal In Motion – SPECIAL EDITION 2014 Video (a boldPIGEON presentation)

Click to watch the Video (a boldPIGEONpresentation)

It is hard not to find inspiration in the work of  Twisted Metal in Motion designer Erin Ademoglu.

Her bold, yet elegant pieces weave metals and the industrial feel of a steam-punk style with the power and beauty of the natural world, while embracing and re-imagining the enduring symbology of the human existence.

Based in Toronto, Twisted Metal in Motion offers thoughtful and intelligent statement pieces without the grand expense (think $18 to $30).

Watch the Video… Then see more by clicking on the links below…

 

Click for  Facebook Page

Click for Esty Shop