2014: One Last Look

2014: One Last Look

            2014. Can you believe that the year is almost over?

            Heck, I still remember events in January as if they happened just yesterday. Or was yesterday really real, it’s still January 2014, and I’ve just time-traveled to December 2014 simply by blinking? The world works in mysterious ways.
            Or simply (and more logically), I’ve just been one busy son of a gun. As that old saying goes, “time flies by when you’re having fun”.
            I still say that I time-traveled by blinking. But I digress.

            2014 was another year of memorable events. There were very pleasant, happy, exciting, fun-filled, and wondrous moments. And of course, the ones that you went through that you wish just never happened. We’ve all been there.

            And believe me, I went through my fair share of equally happy and depressing moments of 2014. Okay, maybe it wasn't all that depressing, but you get the idea. Hopefully.

            So where do I begin with this reflection? Do I list off the good, the bad, and the ugly in no particular order? Nah, that’s ridiculous. Of course I start at the beginning of the year, because that’s logic, people!

The real question is whether or not it was a positive or negative moment for me. Well, it was both. While I will not say exactly what the event in question was because those involved deserve their privacy and will therefore remain anonymous. Plus, no one wants drama. Believe me, it sucks. Did I learn anything valuable from this experience? Of course. What I will say is that even though something such as what I went through will forever remain tattooed into my memory banks, I must move forward and learn from the mistakes made so as to be better at whatever this kind of event is.

Writer’s Note: If you know exactly what I’m talking about right now or at least have some sort of clue or assumption, good for you. Keep it to yourselves.

Moving along.

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This year marked the end and beginnings of my second and third years of college, respectively. And during my once-a-semester visit to the counselor’s office during the second year, I learned that I have finished my entire general education course. All that has to be fulfilled are the courses needed to transfer to my desired school of choice (more on that subject later). And as of this writing, I have just finished this last Fall 2014 semester with flying colors. Now I have four more courses to take in order to transfer. In the meantime, I have turned in all my applications to the schools of my choosing, and I have now until January and this Spring of this upcoming year to fulfill all the requirements needed to be fully accepted anywhere for the Fall of 2015. So a lot has to be done between now and there. It’s going to be a lot of work, but it’ll all pay off in the end. And as of this writing, I have received a letter of acceptance from San Francisco State. Now it’s only a matter of time.

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As I mentioned earlier, I have decided to transfer to one of five schools, all in the California State University system in desirable order: Northridge, San Francisco, San Diego, San Jose, and Sacramento. This summer, the parents and I took a road trip to Southern California to visit and tour two of the said schools, Northridge and San Diego. And let me tell you, up to that point I had not set foot down south since 2010, when I went to San Diego for Comic Con International, while the Los Angeles Valley I had not been to since my elementary school days. So it had been quite a long time. But it was well worth it.

The first stop on our visit was Northridge, as it was the first intended stop of our visit. Plus, it’s located right as you enter Southern California, so yeah. The day we arrived, the family took a drive around Van Nuys, as my mother is a native and former resident before moving to Monterey during the late 60s to early 70s. We drove through the neighborhood she grew up in, and went by the old elementary and middle schools she had attended. It’s moments like this that really help to increase my appreciation in family history.

But my mother isn’t the only one with family history or roots in Southern California. My father also has a cousin, Uncle Ted, and his wife Aunt Nelia living close by Northridge. And on that first day in SoCal, we spent the day with them along with their daughter (whose name escapes me at the moment, that’s terrible of me!) and her daughter. We went out to dinner and dessert, all the while discussing family history with each other, and Holy Nuts it is rich.

The following day was the tour of the Northridge campus. And let me tell you, this place is fantastic. It’s got a rich history, the iconic Campus Library that’s been in movies such as Star Trek (2009) and Sky High is massive and just as majestic in person. The whole place is said to fit up to four Disneylands. Northridge, even though the campus has been around since the 1940s, looks brand spanking new due to the earthquakes in past decades. And let’s not forget that film program. Not only is it among the best in the CSU system, it also allows for internships with major studios. And since Northridge happens to be only 40 minutes away from Burbank, Hollywood and Downtown Los Angeles…you get the idea.

Immediately following the Northridge tour, we set off to San Diego, as its campus tour was the following morning. But as I soon discovered, no trip to LA is complete without driving through Hollywood and those iconic streets. Oh, and if you’re interested in some really good sandwiches and baked goods, head on over to Canters. It is by far the best Jewish Deli I have ever been too. I can see why my parents love that place so much.

Anyways, after arriving in San Diego that night and sleeping it off, the folks and I finally took the tour of San Diego State’s campus. Like Northridge, it’s got a very rich history, and the academics are just as phenomenal. Oh, and the film program is also really good too, even though we didn’t really get a chance to explore that much after the tour. The campus itself kind of reminds me of Chico State where my brother attends, but much nicer and sunnier.

After that tour, the folks and I took a stroll along the boardwalks in town, and eventually met up with a friend from their high school days as well as her mother to Hodad’s, a little hole-in-the-wall burger joint that is a smash-hit with the locals and tourists. And when you have one of their signature burgers along with a cold and tasty milkshake, you’ll be thinking the same thing. Afterwards, we went up to chill with the family friend up at her place in Carlsbad before going back on the road back through LA and further north.

The final stop on the trip was to see more of my parents’ friends from high school, who have a beautiful summer house close by Avila Beach, a little further away from Pismo Beach and Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. We spent the night with them, having the first home cooked meal I had ever since the trip began, and the next day walked alongside the gorgeous shores of Avila. And while Avila is nowhere near the magical place that is Monterey, it’s darn near close. And shortly from there, the end finally came to an end as we returned home later that night.

Okay, that took longer than I imagined. I didn’t mean to write that much, believe me. But I hadn’t really talked about my trip in detail ever since the trip, so I thought what the heck. Why not here.

Oh, by the way, if you skimmed through this section, let alone actually took the time to read this and got this far, congratulations. Nice to know you’re actually interested in what I have to say. I’m honored, but believe me, you could be doing far more productive things.

            This year also had another huge landmark for me: my 21^st Birthday. Hooray, I’m officially legal! I can drink in public without getting in trouble or lying about my age!

            Honestly, my father was right: it’s overrated. But it doesn’t mean it’s not fun because it can be when drinking responsibly.

            So backtracking to before my summer break and a week before Finals. For my birthday weekend, I first attended the screening of the rebooted American Godzilla film series with my closest friends. I can now officially say that we can finally forget the abomination of 1998.

            Moving on. That weekend, I went out to celebrate with the cousins in San Francisco for a night of bar-hopping. Now, I should mention that I am a lightweight when it comes to this pastime. I’d love to strengthen my liver, but I’m highly advised not to. But still I drank responsibly, pacing myself and consuming water as well, all the while feeling that nice glowing sensation (as well as the dying of brain cells the next morning). After spending the night, I returned the next day, feeling older and wiser, but still me.

            Yeah. At least I finished those Finals strong.

            Summer 2014 also marked a very momentous event for me: my first job. After months of searching for one, I finally landed a gig working on a contract basis for the Sierra College Bookstore. That meant that not only was I attending Sierra, but I also worked there. Plus, working on the campus you’re attending looks really good on a resume. For the time period between late August and early October of this last semester (AKA the Fall Rush), I was busy processing online orders, stocking books, packaging orders, and dealing with customers of all mentalities. And even though it was only temporary, I learned very quickly what kind of worker I am, where my strengths and weaknesses were, and how to build up a good work ethic. Plus, the people I worked with are some of the most awesome people you’d ever meet in a workplace, and my bosses were absolutely awesome to work for/with. And as of this writing, they’re asking for more people for the Winter Rush, and they encourage past employees to reapply and come back. Which is exactly what I did last week as of this.

            And of course, I can’t finish this piece without talking about all the people I’ve encountered while attending Sierra. I’ve said this before many times, but college is so much better than high school. It’s so much more diverse, and the students are a real thrill to get to know to. Never have I met more interesting and fascinating people while in college. Okay, MAYBE my family and close friends come way closer to the top, but you get the point. I hope.

            I can also say that I’ve made more friends in the span of six months than the twelve years I went through elementary school all the way up to high school. I’ve even joined a group of like-minded Sierra College kids who, much like myself, are eager to meet new people and hang out. And let me tell you, I’ve met a whole crew of new people I am proud to call my friends. We call ourselves the Sierra College Anti-Anti-Social Page. In fact, I’ve been made an Admin along with several others, something I did not really expect to happen. And sure, while the group may have its ups-and-downs as many other groups do, it’s still a great way to meet fresh faces and hang with others.

            Well, we have finally reached the ending of this reflection. I applaud you once again for actually sticking around to read the whole darn thing. Most of this is just me rambling on about my life this year and what I’ve learned from these experiences. But as experience as revealed to me over time, people are very fascinated by me, the Jewish-Filipino (JewPino)/Geek/Imaginaut/aspiring filmmaker, writer, and maybe voice-actor. Which fascinates me that people find me fascinating. But hey, whatever floats other people’s boats, I say.

Happy Holidays, everyone. See you all in 2015 for new and exciting memories and adventures.

                        - Eric Urmanita

           

Deliverance

          This neighborhood street, like many other nights, was quiet and undisturbed. The only light visible at this hour was due to the presence of the lone lampposts that illuminated their respective posts so as to provide some sort of secured watch. The bicycles that children rode rampant around the neighborhood laid still on the edges of the streets, lifeless yet awaiting patiently for the daylight to arrive to ride again.

            Except for the stray cats and nocturnal creatures that made haste across the streets or remained hidden in the shadows, not a single motion of movement could be seen nor heard.

            For the moment, all remained still.

            Until the Cloaked Figure made his presence known.

            He had appeared from out of nowhere under the dimly-lit extent of one of the lone lampposts. It was as if he had been there all along, merely waiting for the right time and moment to reveal himself.

            The Cloaked Figure was kneeling on one knee and breathing in a controlled manner, suggesting that he had been travelling on foot for several hours. His kneeling position gave the impression that he had leapt into the secured watch of the lamppost, further implying the way the Figure controlled his breathing.

            After a minute of remaining kneeled, the Figure glanced in all directions, as if he had been followed or making sure that he had at least not been. He then slowly and cautiously rose from his position. As he rose, it became more apparent that the Figure was tall and in his physical prime despite the Cloak covering every inch of his body. The shroud of the Cloak’s hood naturally hid the Figure’s face and identity, but under the light of the lamppost, only his chin, lips, and lower half of his nose could be clearly laminated.

            Upon his arrival, the Figure had appeared to have his arms held close to his chest. And as he rose, the lit extent of the lamppost revealed that within his grasp was an object. Its contents remained covered in a blanket of a navy-blue scheme. Whatever lay hidden in the blanket clearly was of importance to the Figure, whose grip was not only firm, yet, nurturing.

            The Figure looked down at what he had been safeguarding for several hours. Under the light of the lamppost, despite half of his face hidden by the hood’s shroud, the expression on his lips implied that he was worried about the state of the contents underneath the blanket, still within his grasp. Slowly, he pulled back a fold on the top half of the blanket. Upon seeing what hid beneath the fold, a smile formed on his face as a lone teardrop slowly streamed down his left cheek onto his chin.

            Under the lamppost’s presence, the face of the sleeping baby glowed with a heavenly brightness. And despite whatever distress had occurred prior, it was clear that the baby’s slumber had not been disturbed, not even once. Event the sudden light coming down from the lamppost failed to disrupt the infant’s slumber.

            The Cloaked Figure stroke his figure along the infant’s face, sighing with relief that the trip had not interrupted the baby’s slumber. He then looked up away from the baby to take one last look at his surroundings. After a few moments, he held the baby even closer to his chest, and stepped out from the lamppost’s safeguarding light onto the shrouded street. Each step he took was calm yet alert, still minding the surroundings as if an invisible, harmful force was bidding their chance to strike.

            After what seemed like an eternity of cautious strides, the Figure halted in front of the two-story that resided on the corner of the far side of the neighborhood. The Figure let out another sigh of relief: he had finally arrived to his true destination.

            The Figure, still holding the baby in his arms, then walked up towards the front door, stopping just within mere inches of the door. After a moment, the Figure knocked on the door, firm yet calm. For exactly ten seconds, he and the baby remained in complete darkness. But then, the lights of the front porch were suddenly lit; the door unlocked, and was slowly opened by its occupant.

            She was tall and dark-skinned, yet the light of the front porch made her skin glisten brightly. Her red and green silk bed robe also glistened under the light’s extent. Her expression was one of grogginess, having been fast asleep up to the Figure’s arrival. She took a moment to adjust to the light, and slowly looked up to see who had awoken her at this hour. Her slumbering state immediately changed to one of awake and surprise; although the hood of the Figure’s cloak still hid the top half of his face, the woman somehow clearly knew who he was.

            “Hello, Martha,” the Figure began in a hushed tone. “It’s good to see you”.

            “You,” Martha replied, her voice only half-awake. “There had better be a good explanation for waking me up at this hour”.

            The moment she finished her sentence, Martha saw a lone tear-stream stretched along the Figure’s lower face. It was now clear to her that this was no pleasant, let alone ordinary social call.

            “What happened?” she calmly asked.

            The Figure did not speak for five seconds. He then replied with sadness in his voice.

            “I am afraid that the reasons for this visit are not for pleasantries”.

            The Figure lowered his hooded head once he finished. Martha then realized what he was referring to.

            “No,” she said, her tone expressing shock and horror upon the revelation.

            “I wish it were not so,” the Figure continued. “But He found us. I tried the best I could to stop Him…but He has been growing in strength and power ever since we last saw Him”.

            “And Mary…?” Martha worriedly asked, knowing full well what the response she did not want to hear be.

            The Figure replied, this time with true sadness in his voice: “…She…she sacrificed herself…protecting the baby from…”. His voice choked in tears. “He’s lost, Martha. By killing her, He’s beyond the point of redemption. Her last wish, before she passed,” the figure continued as he extended his arms with the sleeping infant to Martha, “was for you to take care of him until the boy comes of age”.

            Martha, upon seeing the baby extended to her, fully realized what was now expected of herself.
            “But…but why me?” she asked, her voice expressing uncertainty.

            “You were her closest friend, Martha,” the Figure replied, “the closest thing to a sister she never had, and one of the few people she truly trusted. And,” the Figure added, “you always were the more nurturing type”. As he spoke this, he nodded towards the vegetation that laid around the front yard, which, under the moonlight, appeared lively and perfectly healthy.

            Martha chuckled at the Figure’s last remark. “Well, you’re right about that. Mary always did know me too well. But, are you certain about this? I mean, I trust you and Mary more than anyone else. But with Judas constantly hunting you and now Him…I…I just don’t know if I’m truly the right person for this task”. Looking down at the baby, she added, “a very long and rigorous task”.

            The Figure chuckled. “I know you are more than capable, Martha. Believe me, I would have not come to you had I not had any faith in you. But the moment his…talents…emerge…then they will come for him. And as long as he is with me, he will always be in danger. Please, Martha…care for him. Make sure that he has a chance at life”.

            After a few moments, Martha took ahold of the baby from the Figure’s reach. She grasped the baby in her loving arms, stoking her finger along the sleeping infant’s face, which once more glistened a heavenly glow under the front porch light’s presence.

            Martha then looked back up towards the Figure, who had started to walk away from the front porch back into the darkness.

            “What do I tell him when he’s older?” she asked.

            The Figure halted halfway along the walkway and looked back, his face now fully engulfed in the shadows.

            “Tell him,” he began, “that his parents died in a house fire, and that he was the sole survivor. Tell him that they sacrificed themselves so that he could live. But until his coming of age and discovery of what he is capable of,” he concluded, “the boy must never know the full truth of his past”.

            “What about you?” Martha questioned.

            “I will continue to watch over you both. Once he comes of age and his potential is realized, have him seek out Zeus. But only if the boy wishes to do so”.

            “But why must it be his choice if it is destiny?” Martha asked, puzzled by the Figure’s words.

            “Only he can forge his own path, Martha. We are merely meant to help guide him towards that path”. The Figure started to walk towards the street.

            “And how will he find Zeus”?

            The Figure paused. “Hopefully, and with any luck…Zeus has already found him and keeping his distance until the time comes”.

            And with that, the Cloaked Figure disappeared into the shroud of the night.

            Martha looked out into the dark-lit street, still uncertain if she was capable of what was now expected of her. She then looked down at the baby in her arms, still covered in the navy-blue blanket and uninterrupted from his slumber, his face still glowing under the light of the front porch. The sight of the baby brought both tears and a smile to her face.

            “Hi, Dylan.”, she whispered softly, knowing full well of the destiny that awaited Dylan Myers.

ONLY THE BEGINNING…

           

           

The Encounter

The Encounter

He was surrounded.

            Yet he knew that the moment he stepped into the barren and dark warehouse, that it was not entirely deprived of any content…or persons.

            It was one of the first lessons he was taught in the beginning of his tutelage: to always be wary of one’s surroundings. Even if there is nothing, expect there to be always something.

            There were many of them, an estimated thirty-five in total he counted. At least that was as many as he counted visible within the reach of the lone light. While several of them were empty-handed with tightly clenched fists, the rest of them were armed bitterly to the teeth with knives, axes, ice-hooks, chains, and various blunt objects.

            It was clear that this gang of armed combatants had the advantage in numbers and size compared to this lone stranger, unarmed and apparently defenseless.

            But every warrior, even those without any sort of training, must always know: that the image presented is merely an illusion, and that the truth always lies behind with the image’s true motives. And even though the assailants were armed and numbered and appeared to be fearless and ruthless, the lone stranger could see that their own illusion was failing several of the assailants. Several armed combatants’ hands were shaking with nervousness and anticipation. Sweat could bee seen traveling down heads and palms. Others had faces of not determination, but utter reluctance and doubt.

            It was clearly apparent that this lone defenseless stranger was not all that he appeared to be.

            And then, the stranger took his stance, fiercely yet ever calm, his arms and elbows close to his chest and just below his face. From his stance, the stranger surveyed his opponents, contemplating on his next move. He then turned his left hand against his would-be attackers, and made the all-to familiar gesture: come, if you dare.

            The first assailants then leaped forward, their weapon ready to strike.

            But just as they left the ground, the assailant was immediately sent gliding back down to the ground, almost as if an invisible force had repelled them back. But in truth, the stranger’s powerful front kick had only returned to the ground as fast as it had left to intercept the combatant.

            Another three combatants charged.

            One attacker’s would-be lethal blow was prevented with a hard elbow strike to the face, knocking them out cold onto the floor. Another attacker’s low strike was deflected by a quick block, followed by a strong kick to the attacker’s chest that sent them flying into another smaller group of assailants. The third opponent was far less successful as they extended their arm to cut down the stranger, only for the opponent to be thwarted by several punches. Punches so fast that they barely appeared to have struck at all, and so destructive that to be struck by one was to be struck by a cannonball while a series was to be bombarded with cannonball fire.

            The attackers that took the leap of faith laid on the ground unconscious at the stranger’s feet, still in his ever-calmly stance, having yet to break a single sweat.

            The illusion now having faded, the rest of the assailants now saw that this was no ordinary stranger. No. This…this was a Master.

            And yet, despite seeing how easily their comrades failed to penetrate the Master’s defense, they continued with their siege.

            One by one, each assailant’s attempt to cut down the Master was deflected by his defense, followed by multiple strikes, punches, or kicks. Or in several instances, a combination of each attack motion. Those who had yet to strike looked on as this near-invincible Master stuck down each and every one their comrades. Thoughts ran through their heads as they watched: how is it that this one man was able to take down this many assailants? Only something non-human was capable of such feats. Was this Master perhaps, not human at all?

            The floor was littered with multiple assailants, unconscious or groaning from their injuries and bruises. Now, only a few remained. Yet, even these combatants were reluctant to join their fellow combatants lying at their feet. The Master remained in his calmed stance, ready to intercept the next wave of assaults.

            It was then that the locked warehouse door was forcefully opened by a powerful kick, the power of the forced entrance releasing the door from its hinges and sent flying towards the Master. A hastily side kick from the Master intercepted the door, sending the door to smash into a nearby wall.

            The Master then turned his head slowly to see who had entered the fray, studying his new Challenger as the latter entered the warehouse.

            This new Challenger was taller by a few inches. He appeared to be perhaps just a few years shy of the Master’s own age. Based on the power of the challenger’s kick, the Master surmised that this new challenger also had the advantage in strength.

            However, a true martial artist always knows that physique and power alone are not what makes a true master of his art. The Master knew this, and so too did the Challenger.

            But as the Challenger lashed quickly with a double leaping front kick, the Master also figured that such lessons as this were merely ignored, as was the fierce ruthful expression in his new opponent’s face. Stopping each kick, the Master accepted the invitation with a straight forward punch to the chest. Stepping back a few paces, the Challenger shrugged off the Master’s punch, and assumed his own stance.

            The Challenger then resumed his attack, unleashing a series of his own punches and kicks, each with enough force and strength to take down his opponent in seconds. But the Master proved that he was no ordinary opponent, as he dodged and blocked every single one of the Challenger’s attacks with ease and little difficulty. The Master in return retaliated with a rapid elbow strike to the face, leaving the Challenger dazed and unable to defend against a hand strike to his neck, forcing him to fall face-first onto the floor. As the Challenger tried to get up, the Master threw a kick that stopped short of the former’s face, a gesture signifying to yield.

            But the Master knew that such a fight would not be concluded with such a mere gesture. As he walked away, the Challenger, as anticipated, (in a fit of rage) rose from the floor and charged with a flying side kick, only for the Master to merely step out of the kick’s path. He then blocked his foe’s kick with a low kick, following it with a kick to the Challenger’s stomach, the force of the kick leaving the Challenger in a state of nausea.

As he attempted to regain focus, the Challenger fell victim to the barrage of rapid-fire punches that struck his face and chest. Knowing that defeat was inevitable, the Challenger, with the last of his strength, lunged at the Master.

It only took one back kick to send the Challenger flying through a window and outside onto the street, the Challenger defeated and unconscious.

The battle finally finished, the Master let out a long sigh of relief. Despite defeating every single one of his opponents, he felt no joy in beating his opponents. No matter their attempts to take his life, to the Master, they were men nonetheless. Such a conflict and destructive punishment for these men could have easily been avoided.

 The Master took one last look at his surroundings, most of the combatants having regained consciousness and used every bit of their strength to retreat from the warehouse while some still laid on the floor unconscious from the battle. The Master then took his right fist into his left hand into the Bao Quan, the “Fist Wrapping”, and extended his hands away from his chest while bowing his head in upmost respect for his opponents. The Master then raised his head and lowered his hands, and walked outside the warehouse. He then took one last look at the warehouse, nodded to himself, and walked into the nightly atmosphere.

END

The Geeks

The Geeks

It is no secret

That I am a geek.

“But what is a geek?”

I hear you ask.

We love everything

That is not real.

That is to say,

We are all about hobbies

Like comic book collecting and gaming;

And activities,

Such as Cosplay, Conventions,

And midnight releases.

We love to dress up

Like StormTroopers, superheroes, and wizards/witches.

Throw obscure sayings such as

“In a world without fences and walls,

Who needs Gates and Windows?”.

And quotes famous line from movies and television

Like “Shiny”, “Groovy”, or

“We’re gonna need a bigger boat”.

You know,

The kind of things Non-Geeks

Have absolutely no idea

What in the world we’re talking about.

  

Unlike our friends the Nerds

Who are not very social,

More intellectually advanced

But yet very much

Like to keep to themselves,

We the geeks

Love to talk and socialize.

And unlike the sheltered Nerds,

We the Geeks

Are never afraid

To express who we truly are.

The truth is however,

That in some form of way or another,

We are all geeks.

Sure, it may not seem or be the obvious,

But it is the passions and interests

Geeky or Non-Geeky,

That truly makes us all

A World full of Geeks

A Bar Tale

A Bar Tale

On most nights, Sully’s Pub was alive, a crowded haven. On those nights, customers poured in like swarms of ants after a long day at work, lining up on the bar throwing down cash for all or any hard liquor the Pub had to offer. It was always loud and lively as well, with people talking up storms of various topics. Accompanied by the boisterous and thunderous voices, music often blasted in the background, mixed in with wild laughter.

On most nights, Sully’s Pub was the bar everyone wanted to be at.

But tonight was a different story. Tonight was actually…quiet.

Which was honestly the way Sully enjoyed it. Sure, some customers came by here and there to drink away the unwanted memories brought upon by the day, but tonight only a few straglers came in and occupied the Pub as the music from a ancient rusted jukebox played furtively in the background. By the booths, a small colony of cockroaches crawled around several of the tables and seats, substituting themselves in the spaces where the many patrons sat down to drink away.

Yes, Sully thought to himself. Tonight was just how he wanted it.

As he served a cold bottle of bourbon to a patron, the bar door opened, and Sully could not help but look up and see who had decided to walk inside. The curiosity on his face, however, quickly vanished to take form a look of both dissatisfaction and disgust.

The man who walked in was scrawny, somewhere between his late thirties to early forties. His clothes were old and ragged, and he wreaked of various stenches, mainly alcohol and rat-urine, almost as if he had not taken a bath for who knew how long exactly (actually, it was thirty-two hours prior. His face was scruffy, unkempt, and dirty, a large wart sitting on his nose; his mouth missing an incredible amount of teeth, the ones that remained were mere yellow cavity-rich shadows of their former selves. His eyes were also yellow and bulging, as if he had not slept for days (which was actually the case).

Sully sighed in disgust: it was Pauly.

Since it was pouring rain outside, Pauly had been running, and as a result, was soaked and panting breathlessly (as if he had any oxygen within him to begin with). The rain had also caused his odor to increase, and now he smelt like a wet dog that had been drinking mass amounts of alcohol and living in rat-urine. As the door behind him closed, Pauly leaned up against the wall to catch his breath. Slowly, he walked over to the counter and took a seat, leaving small puddles on the Pub floor as he walked.

“Bourbon”, he croaked, his voice sounding as if he had both a frog and an ashtray lodged into his throat.

“Christ, Pauly”, said Sully. “You sure you’d rather have water instead? And besides, you still owe me seventy-nine bucks. When the hell are you going to pay me back, you dirty, trash-smelling filth”?

“Can it, Sully,” Paul barked hoarsely, “water don’t have anything next to bourbon magic. And besides, I’m really gonna need it after where I’ve been”.

Reluctantly, Sully leaned down and picked up a shot glass. He then took a bottle behind him and set both items on the counter. Pauly then proceeded to pour a shot, and then hastily drank it, and in mere moments poured himself another.

As he watched, Sully could not help but notice the state Pauly was in. Sure, for an alcoholic hobo, Pauly usually looked like crap, but behavior-wise he was always talking up a storm, his words live with energy. Tonight, however, was a different story. On this night, Pauly was surprisingly quiet. And the look on his face suggested he had just seen a ghost.

“You know, Pauly,” said Sully, “I’ve seen you shit-faced more times than I can recite my ABCs. But right now…right now, you look like you’ve been through some serious hell or some shit”.

Pausing from his drinking, Pauly slowly looked up into Sully’s eyes. And Sully could see it in the hobo’s yellow eyes: absolute fear. Of course, it could have just been the alcohol. After all, it was Pauly he was talking too.

“Sul,” the hobo replied, “that’s exactly where I was. And it wasn’t pretty, man”.

Sully chuckled. “Pauly, I know you’re a massive drunkard and shit twenty-four-seven. Are you sure it’s you and not the booze trippin’ and playin’ mind games with you”?

Almost immediately after the words left Sully’s mouth, Pauly’s expression went from ghostly fear to absolute anger.

“Yeah, alright, I’m a freakin’ drunkard, I’ll admit that friggin’ much,” Pauly scoffed. “But right now, I am nowhere near pullin’ your friggin’ leg, Sully! I swear on my goddamn ma’s grave! Just let me explain the whole story to your friggin’ face”!

Pauly panted heavily to catch his breath, followed by several harsh coughs that could pass for a wood-chipper machine chipping wood. After exactly thirty seconds passed with silence, Sully spoke.

“Alright, Pauly,” he replied. “Let’s hear what ‘hellish’ mess you got yourself into. Even if I’m going to regret listening to your drunken ass”. Sully then leaned in closer on the counter to listen.

After taking a deep breath that seemed to last for hours, Pauly exhaled. And then, he spoke of his story…….

---------------------------------90 Minutes Ago----------------------------------

Okay, so I was roamin’ around the East Side, mindin’ my own freakin’ business, doing my thing. What my thing was is none of yo’ goddamn business, but yous get the idea. Anyways, I’m walkin’, and that’s when Mother Freakin’ Nature decides to take her bathroom break. On me, my stinky hobo ass.

Well, as my luck would have it, the Franklin Saloon on 15^th was just right aroun’ the corner, so I’m runnin like a friggin’ chicken, makin’ my way over. Soon as I get there, I’m already pantin’ like Bobby’s big-ass bitch that never stops barkin’ her ass off. Whatever.

So I walk in, an’ it’s business as usual. Place is packed, people are drinkin’ their asses off, music’s blastin’, and there’s pool games goin’ on, the whole place smellin’ like tobacco and the music’s blastin’ its ass off. Typical night at Franklin’s.

Anyways, I walk over to the counter, an’ there’s Frankie (you know, that big hunkie that runs the joint),  an’ he’s doin’ his thing as usual. Then he takes one look over in my direction, and his big ol’ pug-face lights up.

“Yo, Pauly!” he says to me. “You looked soaked to death, and ya smell like ass and wet-dog too! What happen, some crazy bitches decide to leak on you”? Same ol’ Frankie. Always had the worst mouth of any moron in town I knew besides me.

“Y’know, it’s funny you say that,” I says to that fat bastard. “You kiss yo’ ol’ gal with that mouth too? Now hurry up and gimme a bourbon bottle an’ all, willya! An’ hurry that shit up, I’m friggin’ thirsty as hell here!”

Took a few moments for that heavy ass of Frankie’s to hand me a bottle, tellin’ me that I still owed his ass eighty-two. After I grab that bottle from his pudgy hand, I tell his pug-ass face to shoo. And down that brown elixir goes, man, that stuff tastin’ like hard Heaven. It’s gone within 10 seconds, after which Frankie hands me another bottle, and I drink that one dry too.

Well, soon as I puts down that second bottle, door opens and me, bein’ a curious bugger and all, can’t help but look and see whos it is, thinkin’ it might be somebody out ta fry my ass. Luckily, it wasn’t but guy…well, never seen him before.

Guy was one of them “tall, dark, handsome” types. No seriously, he was. Looked his mid-twenties to mid-thirties, this pretty boy. He had that black hair that was somewhat spiked, and a matchin’ goatee that sits halfway down his lower lip and stops right at his chin’s bottom. And his eyes, man; they were like blackish or somethin’. An’ his face…damn, I swear this guy could pass for a freakin’ angel. But since when do angels wear black from head-to-toe? He had on like this pitch-black shirt that matched some really nice khakis he had on. Shoes were black too, shiny like a girl’s fanny really. An’ then he’s got on this black trench coat that looked liked somethin’ from a Dracula flick. I tell ya, man, this guy was studly-lookin’.

So, Good-Lookin’ walks in an’ he’s mindin’ his own’ business while everyone else was doin’ their own shtick. And the way this kid moved through the crowd: almost as if there was no one in his way. Smooth-walker I says. An’ then he sits down at the counta, few seats over to my right, puts his arms on the counta real slick too, an’ he just sits there lookin’ at the mirror.

Frankie walks over to the guy, right? Asks him right away what he’d like. Good-Lookin’ looks right up into his face for a moment, and then this real nice smile just glides across his face. And then he talks with this real soft-soundin’ voice. Had a West-Coast and gentleman-soundin’ blend in his voice. Even that voice sounded like an angel’s.

“Bloody Mary,” is all he says.

As he says this, I look at pug-ass Frankie, and he’s like in awe with this kid’s angelic voice. Typical Frankie. All it took was his eyes blinkin’ to snap him out and go make that drink. Minute later, Frankie sets it down on the counta, and Angel-Face slowly picks it up and takes a sip.

At this point, I’m like curious and shit about this kid. I mean, everybody here ‘cept him were like bikers and lowlies like me, makin’ this guy the only piece of the puzzle standin’ out. Like friggin’ Waldo, man. I shoulda just minded my own frickin’ business, but you know me, the curious little shit I am, not to mention I was really inta this guy (in a non-weird way, if you catch my drift). So, I picks my ass up and puts it down on the seat right next to Pretty-Boy’s left.

Angel-Face doesn’t acknowledge my hobo ass as I sit down, proceedin’ to stare him like I was some frickin’ garden gnome annoying the hell out o’ him. What can I say? The guy was interestin’.

For like two minutes not a word. And then his angel-voice breaks silence.

“You know,” he says to me, “it’s not polite to stare. Especially at another man. Not only is it weird and creepy, but it also sends mixed signals”. Holy shit, the charisma in his voice. Took me a moment to catch myself, too, because this guy is so freakin’ smooth with words.

“Sorry, man,” I says to him, chucklin’ to myself like a nervous pipsqueak. I says to him, “I don’t mean it like that. It’s just…it’s just that normally nice-lookin’ fellows like you walkin’ into places like this. An’ I never sees yo face around these parts. You ain’t from around here, aren’t you”?

Good-Lookin’ chuckles. “What gave it away?” he asks along with that warm natural smile. He pauses, and continues: “the voice, right? I get that quite often”.

As he says that, I’m thinkin’ to myself: how the livin’ shit did he know I was goin’ to say that about his voice?

“Hehe, how…how do you figure I’d ask about the voice?” I ask real nervously.

“Like I said: I get that question quite often. Also, a lucky guess. And your eyes asked for you”.

Wow, I’m thinkin’. This guy really knows some shit.

“So uh, what brings you into this dump of a watering hole?” I asks. “Wouldn’t you rather be at one of them clubs or somethin’? You look like you’re more dressed for those places”.

“Well”, Angel-Face says with that charismatic angelic-tone, “I normally don’t drink at all. Bad for the soul, they say. But sometimes, you have the urge…need…to  sin the soul once in a while. So, here I am, sitting here, in this ‘dump of a watering hole’, as you so elegantly put it, damaging my health. And yet, I do not regret it one bit.

“As for why I am here”, Angel-Face continues, “nightclubs are nothing more than pointless cesspools with little to no personality whatsoever. Every club is the same: bright lights and loud boisterous sounds that passes for music. Any event that happens in those places are often forgotten or unwanted. It’s where young, blind and emotionless people dressed in their ‘best attire’ go to ‘have a good time’ and hope to ‘score some tail’. In reality, all they are doing is merely disguising their pitiful lives they are forced to live out on a daily basis. Clubbing is merely an excuse to shut off all emotion and let their inner wild-selves run rampant to ‘conquer’ the night.

“A bar, saloon, or pub, on the other hand, has a personality. It is a place where true people can come together and truly converse with each other. And unlike the clubs where nothing is remembered, watering holes like this one always leaves behind a fond memory, no matter how sad or how it is. That, my dirty, scrounging, friend, is why I choose to drink here”.

            Normally, I could never pay attention to whatever the frick anyone tells me. Y’know, because booze will do that to you. But somethin’ about this guy, man: somethin’ about that angelic-charismatic voice just….made me wanna listen to him, y’know?

            The pretty-boy then took another sip of his drink, slowly just like his last sip.

            “Well,” I says to him. “Can’t agree more about drinks, man. Best medicine ever”.

            “Opinions vary, but it’s your opinon,” Angel-Face replied, proceedin’ to take another sip. He sets it down, doesn’t talk for a few moments. And then out of the blue, he asks:

            “So…do you mind if I ask you for your name”?

            I was surprised, man. After all, guy was a complete stranger. But again, somethin’ about him just drew me to him, y’know? After all, he seemed like a nice guy.

            “Name’s Pauly,” I replies to him. “Howsabout you, tall-dark-and-handsome? You got a name”?

            The pretty boy laughed. “Let’s just say that my name….is a name you do not want to either forget or even know”.

            And right as he finishes talkin’, the door slams open. Actually, more liked kicked the hell in. An’ then everything stopped, music and conversations an’ all. Everyone in there stopped to see who had just decided to bust into Franklin’s.

            There were three of ‘em. They all wore the same shit: suits, ties an’ all that fancy stuff. They had on these dark shades so tinted you couldn’t see their eyes. They scanned the club, lookin’ around for a lil’ bit. An’ then they looked towards me. Least I thought they did as they slowly walked over in my direction. Next thing I know, they’re hoverin’ above me an’ Pretty-Boy, like we’re freakin’ ants. And then, one of them suits opened his mouth.

            “We’ve been looking for you,” the suit says. Only he wasn’t talkin’ to me.

            He was talkin’, to Angel-Face.

            Angel-Face turns around, slowly but smoothly. He looks up at ‘em, completely unafraid of them. Me, here I am, practically shitting in my freakin’ pants. But Angel-Face, man. He just looks right at ‘em, like they ain’t shit. And then that smile appears.

            “You know,” he says to the suits, “it took you long enough to catch up. I sensed all three of you following me for six hours now. It was only a matter of time before the three of you came in. I’ve been sitting here with my new friend here patiently waiting for your fine presence. And now here you are, hoping to finally destroy the almighty and powerful, not to mention devilishly handsome, Destroyer”.

            Angel-Face gets up from the stool, an’ all three of them suits take a step back. Meanwhile, everyone else in the bar is just stuck in place, watchin’ the whole show unfold, y’know? Everyone knew somethin’ was bound to go down.

            All of a sudden, we all hear this loud “chick-chack” go off behind us. Everyone, me, the suits, Pretty-Boy, all the patrons: EVERYONE looks to see where the noise came from. ‘Course, I knew exactly what the frick that noise was: the sound of a shotgun being cocked. And Frankie was the one brandishing it, pointing it right at the suits and Angel-Face.

            “Alright, listen, you stupid bastards!” Frankie yells out to Angel-Face and the suits. “I don’t know what kind of stupid shit you got between each other! An’ as much as I like a good fight here an’ there, that kin’ of shit ain’t allowed in MY saloon! Now get the hell out before I unload a whole round at yo’ frickin’ asses”!

            There was this long pause. And then Angel-Face breaks the silence by laughin’. Laughin’, I tell you. I mean, this guy is facin’ like three other dudes, and Frankie’s got a freakin’ barrel pointed at ‘in, an’ here is laughin’ his frickin’ ass off, like it’s all a freakin’ game to this kid. Guy had balls, man. Even I would be shittin’ in my pants.

            An’ then he looks right at Frankie. The moment he looks right at Frankie, Angel-Face’s eyes had changed. They went from normal-lookin’ to…to somethin’ not human man. They were all white an’ glowin’, like somethin’ I seen in one of those horror flicks. In that frickin’ moment, Angel-Face went from having angel eyes…to the eyes of frickin’ Satan, man. An’ now Frankie was the one really shittin’ in his pants because that barrel was now shakin’ like a mofo, like he couldn’t even hold it right. An’ the look on his face, man: Frankie looked like he was about ready to get shot or somethin’.

            Angel-Face sighs. “Well,” he says right to Frankie. “I really did not want to do this in front of all these people and my friends here. But I’m afraid that you’ve forced my hand. No hard feelings, huh?”

            He then raised his arm at Frankie, an’ what happened next I will never, ever, forget for as long as my drunken ass lives on this Earth. The moment he raised his hand, some sort of fiery glowin’ shit shoots from his hand. The whole place is silent. So quiet, you could hear the damn cockroaches. I look over at Frankie, an’ I literally wanted to puke my brains out. Because now there was this giant hole in Frankie’s chest, like somethin’ out of a movie, where you could see right through the hole out the other end. Frankie slowly looks down at it, looks up at Angel-Face, and then his pug-ass-face falls flat on the floor, dead like a goddamn doorknob.

            The Pretty-Boy slowly looks back at the suits, who are at this point look like they’re ready to tussle and shit. Pretty-Boy still has on that smile, like nothin’ happened. An’ the look on his face, man. He looked like he was enjoying the whole thing, like it was one huge party to him.

            Then he says to the suits: “Well, I don’t have all night. Shall we get this over with?’

            An’ right there an’ then, all frickin’ hell breaks loose.

            O’ course, I don’t watch the whole shit, because I had leapt over the counta right after he spoke. I know it all went to shit ‘cause next thing I know, I’m hearin’ screams of people dyin’, people in agony and pain and shit. I hear fireworks go off, shit bein’ smashed. Strange colorful lights bein’ blasted everywhere. Glass an’ stuff bein’ broken.

An’ while all this was happenin’, I could hear his frickin’ laughter. It was the one thing I kept hearin’ throughout the whole shit. An’ here I am, behin’ the counta, cradling myself and bawlin’ like a freakin’ baby and cryin’ out to God to help my ass.

After what seemed like frickin’ eternity, I stopped hearing everythin’. Even the laughter. An’ I was still curled up in a ball, shakin’ and breathin’ for my life. An’ then I heard his voice.

“Well, Pauly. Everyone’s gone, and the show’s over. I think it’s safe for you to come out now”.

I will never forget what the shit I saw when I got back up and looked behind the counta. The whole saloon, all broken and beaten and shit. Chairs and tables were broken into million pieces litterin’ the whole floor alon’ with billions of shattered glass pieces. An’ the whole place smelled like burnt charcoal. An’ ash. Tons an’ tons of freakin’ ash all over the goddamn place. I knew I heard people, an’ yet not a single soul was in that buildin’.

“What’s the matter, Pauly?” Angel-Face asks me, calm as a freakin’ whistle, an’ actin’ like nothin’ happened at all, his eyes back to normal-lookin’. “You look like you’ve seen a massacre. Which is technically what happened”.

“W-w-w-w-what, what the sh-sh-sh-shit?” I says, terrified as hell. “Where—where---where is everyone?”

“Oh, I killed them. Couldn’t have any witnesses. No one is really supposed to know of the Numen’s existence. Even my suited friends knew that. Shame I had to kill three of my own kind as well.”

An’ as he says this, he’s takin’ another sip of his Bloody Mary, again, calm like a mofo. He walks over towards me, an’ before I knows it, he’s hoverin’ over me, an’ I am scared even more shitless.

“Normally, I don’t leave one to run off and tell”, he says. “But for some strange reason, I’ve come to like you within this past hour or so. Very rarely do I meet people so simple and friendly as you. So, I’ll tell you what: since you already look like someone who drinks chronically, I’ll let you go. It won’t matter how many times you tell this story, no one will ever believe you. You are a drunkard after all, yes? I knew the moment I read your mind of how much of a drinker you are. Well, I must be off then. Have to keep looking for him, after all.”

Angel-Face then takes one final sip of his Bloody Mary, set it down on the counta, and walks over to the busted door. It’s still rainin’ outside, but now there’s thunder and lightnin’ goin’ on.

He turns to look at me one last time and says: “My name is Lucifer by the way. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Pauly. Thank you for drink-talk.” An’ then he walks out into the storm.

 _____________________________________________________________________

“I waited for like ten minutes, an’ then I high-tailed my ass outta there,” Pauly concluded. “An’ then I made my way over here, needin’ somethin’ to wash away what freakin’ nightmare I just witnessed”. He then took another massive gulp from the bottle.

Sully sighed, having listened to Pauly rant on with his story for exactly thirty minutes. After hearing what Pauly had to say, mixed thoughts began to form in Sully’s mind. Was it truly possible that Pauly’s story was indeed true? And if so, was there really such a man capable of such horrendous acts?

Sully quickly shook his head to clear his thoughts. This was Pauly he had been listening too. And Pauly was, after all, a massive drunkard. And often delusional.

“Alright, Pauly,” Sully said. “I really do appreciate the story. However, I also really think you’re done for the night”. He then took the now half-empty bottle of bourbon out of Pauly’s hands, and placed it behind him next to the sink. “Go home, Pauly,” he continued. “You look like you need sleep more than a drink”.

“Whatever, Sully,” Pauly said as he got up from the stool He slowly made his way to the door. As he opened it, Pauly paused and looked at Sully. “I figure you wouldn’t believe me. But you are at least a little curious, right”?

“Sure, Pauly. Sure I am. Now go get some sleep, buddy”.

And with that, Pauly scurried out into the raining night.

What a freakin’ story, Sully said to himself. He then proceeded to clean the bar counter, his mind still trying to make sense of the story Pauly had just described.

As he turned his to the counter to rinse some glasses, Sully could hear the door open once more, followed by several footsteps. The footsteps were then followed by the screech of a barstool.

Sully turned around to greet the patron that had taken a seat. “Well, what will it be, sir?” he asked.

“A Bloody Mary, Good Sir,” said the patron, his voice carrying a charismatic angelic-tone in his speech…

END