Congratulations
Victor held his cheek against the cool leather of the passenger seat as the other car rolled by. Once he was sure that they rounded the next corner, he returned to the upright position.
He’d made a good choice, parking the muscle car in the shadows of an oak tree and for the fourth time in fifteen minutes, he raised his binoculars to his blue eyes and peered down the street toward the white two-story house. He’d been patiently watching the property for a while but noted that nothing had changed.
On his lap sat the printed photo that he’d carried for the past twenty-four hours when the phone call came in. Recent technology had made his life so much easier. After receiving the name via phone, he could run an internet search to find photos of his mark within seconds. Social Media sites allowed him to find out general knowledge about them and the numerous photo choices made it easy to find the clearest picture of their face. This ensured accuracy.
The man in the photo was in his early forties and by Victor’s current surroundings in the quiet suburb it was clear that this fellow was only doing moderately well for himself. Victor could use this to his advantage. He knew he needed to act fast. His employer would be waiting to hear back once the job was complete.
Suddenly, something caught his attention. Victor raised the binoculars again and through a first floor window he caught sight of a woman in her mid-thirties. The man had company. Victor turned his attention to the digital clock on the dashboard. It was just after nine o’clock on a Friday night. What did he expect?
Life was always easier when the picture people were alone, but the clock was ticking, so he knew he’d have to get creative in order to wrap up the job in a timely manner. Victor haphazardly tucked the picture away inside his suit jacket. With his right hand he removed the keys from the ignition, while he opened the driver’s side door with the other. He leisurely stepped out onto the curb, giving his legs a much-needed stretch before casually walking around to the trunk of the car. He inserted the key into the lock and quietly opened the hatch.
He paused to ponder the contents of the trunk and within moments he had his plan. Illumined by only the car’s tiny light bulb, he quickly collected the items that he needed: the red necktie and the superfluously large piece of cardboard. They’d do nicely. He’d left the knot in the tie so it was a simple matter of sliding it over his head and tightening the decoration to fit. He produced a felt marker from his pocket, quickly scribbled on the cardboard and before he realized it, his legs were already carrying him toward the house.
As Victor approached the front door, he pulled the large piece of cardboard from under his arm and posed it dramatically in front of him as to produce the desired effect. He reached for the doorbell but instead his hand went inside his jacket pocket. He produced the photo and scanned the man’s face one more time; he knew every facial feature by memory, but in his business one could never be too sure. Ready to proceed, Victor rang the doorbell.
Victor heard the faint ding echo inside the house and within moments the porch light popped on, bathing him in a soft, sixty-watt glow. He listened as the deadbolt popped and the door opened. He was face to face with man from the picture. He looked identical to the photo that Victor had chosen, one from the man’s Hawaiian vacation a few months prior.
“Can I help you?” questioned the man.
“You’re Arthur Alverson?” asked Victor in return.
“I am. What do you want?”
This was it… show time. Victor put on his best smile and continued on.
“Congratulations, Mister Alverson!” Victor piped enthusiastically. “You’ve won the Clearing House sweepstakes! I’m here to award your fifty-thousand dollar prize!”
Victor held up a comically large white cardboard check emblazoned with the man’s name and a dollar amount featuring a mess of zeroes. The zeroes always mesmerized people. Arthur Alverson stood in shock, his brain slowly processing the information.
“You’re… you’re kidding me!”
“You think I’d drive all the way out here for a joke?” Victor retorted. He embellished his smile even more.
A voice came from the other room. It was the woman.
“What’s going on, Art?” she hollered.
“You’ll never believe it, Lizzy,” started Arthur. “I won a sweepstakes! Fifty thousand buckaroos!”
Lizzy suddenly came into Victor’s view, grinning from ear to ear.
“That’s incredible! I didn’t think that anyone ever—“
Lizzy paused, cocking her head at the giant check in Victor’s hand.
“Wait a second… you said fifty-thousand… the check says twenty-five.”
Arthur’s smile faded slightly as the numbers on the big check came into focus. Lizzy had been correct. The number conflicted with the information Victor had given him.
“What’s this about—“ started Arthur.
Before he could fuss any further Arthur fell to the floor in the entryway. Lizzy’s eyes went wide as she surveyed the situation. Her mouth moved, but no words came out. It was moments later that she fainted, joining Art on the laminate flooring.
Victor looked down at the check and inspected the two holes that had quickly appeared in the cardboard. From behind the novelty item he revealed his other hand. It held his favorite pistol, the barrel smoking ever so slightly. He stashed the weapon inside his jacket, struggling momentarily as the silencer caught on the fabric.
As Victor walked back toward his car, he glanced once more at the man’s photograph before crinkling the paper up into a ball. He dropped the now-ruined check into the trunk of the car and drove off into the night.
It was time to make that phone call.
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Let Neil Gaiman School You
A fantastic commencement speech from Neil Gaiman at the University of the Arts 2012 Graduation ceremony.
Right Place at the Write Time
A few weeks ago, I added a Column page to this website, but never really gave it any air time. Time to correct the oversight.
Recently, I pitched a column idea to the comic book news/info website Fanboy Buzz.
Lots of comic book websites have columns where people do reviews, interviews, talk about things they like and dislike within the industry. I wanted to bring something a little bit different to the table, so my column idea was to follow me, an up-and-coming comic book writer as I try to break into the industry. A place where I could share my experiences, thoughts, emotions, successes, and failures. I’ve been cranking these columns out as I have time (or when I need a break from actually writing comics) and thus far, they’ve mainly been about foundational ideas and expectations from anyone who is actively looking to make comics.
As they progress I’ll go deeper into details and experiences with my current projects, and I hope to do some interviews with professional writers within the industry. Start reading now and I’ll post new columns as they become available!
Here are the current selections of my column, Right Place at the Write Time:
5.18.12 – RPWT #4: Thou Shalt Motivate Thyself
5.01.12 – RPWT #3: Writers Gonna Read
4.18.12 – RPWT #2: Writers Gonna Write
4.15.12 – RPWT #1: Introduction
Reel-To-Real
David and Andrew sat on the mauve carpet on either side of the old reel-to-reel player. Both men averaged five feet eleven inches in height and both were dressed in identical black Calvin Klein suits. If not for Andrew’s brown hair contrasting David’s blond, the two men could have been mistaken for brothers any day. Andrew continued to stare down at the device while David had become distracted by the floral pattern on the ugly wallpaper.
“I don’t understand it,” David began, “We’ve been doing this long enough to deserve a nice hotel room for a change.”
“Focus!” Andrew responded, “There are more important things to ponder.”
“Just press the button, already,” David urged.
Andrew, his knees now folded up against his chest, continued to stare at the device, “Why a reel-to-reel player?”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!” answered Andrew, “It just doesn’t make sense.”
David pulled his attention away from the wallpaper long enough to roll his eyes at the other man.
“It’s always been a reel-to-reel player. Maybe they just like tradition?”
“It’s just not practical,” started Andrew, “They should have changed over to cassette tapes back in the nineties.”
“Isn’t that half the fun though?” asked David, “lugging these things around?”
“You know, it just seems excessive.”
David smiled, “Sure, but we get the fun message, then the puff of smoke, and life goes on.”
“I’m just saying,” interjected Andrew, climbing to his feet, “Compact Discs have to be more cost-effective.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Andrew.”
“Excuse me?”
“When’s the last time you saw a CD blow up?”
Andrew sighed. “They could give us iPods instead. An iPod could definitely blow up.”
David climbed to his feet with a grunt to face Andrew. “And that’s cost effective how?”
“Maybe cost has nothing to do with it,” started Andrew, “they’ve been blowing up reel-to-reel tapes for as long as we can remember.
“True statement.”
“You know,” continued Andrew, “maybe it’s someone’s job to manufacture these tiny bombs.”
“You might be onto something there, and here you are, wanting to change formats. You’d be putting a man out of a job.”
“I didn’t mean—“ Andrew began.
“All because you’re tired of lugging this tape player around everywhere we go,” David interrupted.
“Well now that you’ve guilt tripped me, I suppose it’s not all that bad.”
David had gone back to tracing one of the flowers on the wallpaper with his fingertip.
“Excuse me?”
“You weren’t listening?” questioned Andrew.
“Sorry, the wallpaper was a tad more interesting than what you were saying.”
“Fine, David. Forget it,” said Andrew, crossing his arms.
“So we can get on with it?”
“Yes, fine, let’s get on with it,” whined Andrew, “Forbid we spruce up the monotony here and there… forbid we talk about anything real!”
David squatted down on his haunches in front of the reel-to-reel player. He looked up at Andrew as he spoke. “Are you done?”
“Yeah. Whatever. Play the tape.”
David pressed the plastic Play button and returned to the standing position. The aged reel-to-reel player suddenly came to life. The motorized wheels began to spin and the room filled with a soft hiss as the magnetic tape slid across the playback head. The two men stood in contemplative positions and after several seconds a man’s recorded voice broke the silence.
“Good evening, Agent Coates and Agent Layman. Welcome to France.”
The men shifted their weight ever so slightly as the recording continued on.
“Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to attend the re-opening of the United States embassy. There you will meet the French High Constable who will be on hand to ensure that the opening goes uninterrupted. During the festivities you will obtain his security keycard for duplication and future investigation of Government files.”
“Ooh!” David started, “this could be a good one.”
Andrew put a finger to his mouth, shushing his excitable partner. The audio continued.
“As always, should you or any of your team be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions.”
“Ready for this?” David smiled, “Your favorite part, Andrew!”
The recorded voice droned on.
“This tape will self-destruct in five seconds. Good luck, Gentlemen.”
Before their eyes, the tape on the reel-to-reel began to smoke and quickly turned to ash.
“Get your gun,” started Andrew, “let’s get going.”
On their way out of the hotel room, David smiled at Andrew, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.
“Let’s see a Compact Disc do that!”
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Roy and the Miniature Volcanoes
An exercise in Creative Nonfiction. I wrote a whole humor book on this stuff: Musings on Minutiae
We should have answered the door after the second knock, but because our neighborhood is full of salesmen and Jehovah’s Witnesses, we waited until the pounding came a third time and was emphasized by a muffled vocalization of, “Sherriff’s Department!”
When most people think of Orlando, Florida, they assume that our days are full of sunshine and Mickey Mouse ears. This particular Sunday had neither. In fact, it was pouring down rain outside. For most of the afternoon my wife, Amanda, and I had heard a man wandering the neighborhood hollering out the name “Roy.” We assumed this fellow was out in search of a lost dog, but once the police came to our door, everything changed.
Amanda and I opened the door to see two drenched officers staring back at us. Illumined by our porch light they proceeded to question us regarding the disappearance of an 8-year-old neighborhood boy named Roy. After understanding that we hadn’t seen Roy, the Officers asked if they might look in the back yard. This was not a problem, until they asked if they might come through the house to get there.
My wife is a “Southern Girl” so the idea of inviting someone into the home without a clean house and food to offer goes against everything she believes in. This Sunday was also “Laundry Day,” so our home was in disarray with piles upon piles of clothing scattered everywhere, which at a glance looked like miniature, multicolored volcanoes.
As the officers made their way inside, I noticed that Amanda’s face had gone pale. Without warning, she darted in front of them picking up piles of clothing and throwing them out of the Officer’s way.
“Don’t mind the mess!” she hollered nervously, “I’m sorry!”
Most likely having seen it all in their line of work, the Officers walked through the room toward the back door. Then she said something that made one of the Officers flinch.
“I swear it’s never like this!” Amanda continued, “Please don’t look over here — Don’t pay attention to the mess!”
Once the Officers were in the backyard and the sliding glass door closed behind them, I turned my attention to my wife. In her dirt-induced panic she didn’t realize how completely and utterly suspicious she was acting. I reminded her that when the police are looking for something, the last thing you want to tell them is “Don’t look over here.”
She agreed to calm down and let me do the talking. The Officers returned to let us know they’d received a call that Roy had been found. Amanda stood quietly while I escorted our guests to the door. They apologized for the interruption and took their leave.
Once the door was closed behind them, Amanda stood amongst the dirty clothes volcanoes starting at the tile floor. The police had left muddy footprints the length of the kitchen and I knew right then and there, we’d be cleaning for the rest of the night.
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The Temporal Update #5
I’m happy to report that pencils and inks for all 32 pages of my time travel comic book, THE TEMPORAL, are complete! Artist Kristian Rossi is now hard at work on a cover for the book, and soon the pages will be off to the letterer and colorist. I’ll be looking for beta-readers for the story, so if you’re interested, let me know!
While this project goes into the final stages, two of my other projects are now going full steam ahead, one of which will have me teaming up with Kristian again, so I couldn’t be happier to work with him a second time!
While the cover is being completed, I thought I’d give a teaser of THE TEMPORAL so you can appreciate what we’ll soon be bringing your way.
Is this story about time travel or hot dogs? You decide!
Enjoy!
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The Temporal Update #4
This week, pencils and inks for my time travel comic book, THE TEMPORAL, will be complete! Artist Kristian Rossi has been plugging away at this project for the past month and each week I’ve received a slew of pages that have not only met, but exceeded my expectations. We’re even finishing this stage of the book a month sooner than anticipated! It’s almost as though we’re excited for people to read it!
What started as a simple sci-fi tale has now become something far more interesting and creative due to the artist’s touch. I’m hoping to have even more exciting news to share in the near future, but until that happens I’ll share one more piece of character art from the book.
Once complete, the pages are off to the letterer! I haven’t landed on a colorist for the project yet, so if you or anyone you know may be up for the task, get in touch!
As always, to keep the excitement going, here’s a sketch of the temporal displacer (we couldn’t imagine calling it a “time machine”)!
The Temporal Update #3
We’re now in the art home stretch for my time travel comic book, THE TEMPORAL. The amazing Kristian Rossi sent me pages 19-24 today and I couldn’t be happier. The comic is 32 pages long, so we’re coming up on the end of pencils & inks.
I’m very excited to share this book with you soon, but there’ still much work to be done!
While we do our “behind the scenes” thing, here’s another character sketch to keep the excitement high.
Meet Arthur, Justin’s father.
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London Shadow Script
I’ve added a new entry to my scripts database.
You can check out the words that led to creation of London Shadow (with art by Allen Byrns) right here.
London Shadow was released in CE Publishings free MEGABOOK anthology in February 2012. Check it out on Graphicly for over 200 pages by 64 creators.
