Shadowed Realms Issue 11

The cop pressed play on the tape recorder.

It was creepy to hear David like this—but far worse hearing what he’d done. That voice. He’d heard it so often over the last six months: happy, sad, stoned, stupid. Now he sounded like Gibbering Loony #2 from one of his lesser scripts.

Ren sighed and sat back in the plastic back-to-school chair that suited his college-dropout image. Long scraggly hair, tatty jeans, and Buddy Holly glasses all masked the fact his last movie grossed millions.

He closed his eyes. The plain square room disappeared with the sounds of traffic outside a building he was no stranger to—Mann’s Chinese Theatre. David’s final memo played on.

… it’s always fast food, foreplay-free fucks and fairly enthusiastic … at best, and why? To save time … saving time just to waste it again, they haven’t the patience to sit through a three-hour movie—no—but give them some shit rag, and they’ll happily read about what Joe fucking Celebrity thinks about faded denim and famine in faraway countries that exist for fifteen minutes of his or her interview time …

He heard David gasping, exhausted by his burst of anger. The traffic whined, eating up the fuck-you-buddies charitably passed around by drivers.

… and you know what, Ren? The reviews were pretty great. Yeah, there are always tags of pretentious, self-indulgent, and touchy-feely to stamp over the fucker, but the majority gave it two thumbs way up … but not the audience. Hell no! Where are the explosions, the thrown in jerk-off tit shots, and snappy one-liners even housewives can quote. Oh, there goes another. Look at him.

The voice stopped. Ren listened to David’s after-sex heavy breathing, broken by a series of clicks. A muted thud followed and on he went.

People are getting so stupid that they’re asking for movie trailers to replace films. They won’t lose track then, little minds can handle three minutes. Right about now, Steven will be giving his speech about breaking boundaries, taking a stand—‘member when I called you after I wrote that? Man, you were as buzzed as I was. But this is the hat-grabbing moment for most … guess they can’t handle being roused to think.

Leaning against the wall, the cop looked over with sleepy-eyed sympathy—or narrow eyed contempt.

You should’ve seen them last night! Goddamn stampede. I was the only one left.

It’s pretty fashionable to be rebellious and individual. But they ask how? How can I not conform to rules? Will wearing this tee-shirt help? Maybe picket a nuclear plant. How do I do it?

I gave their minds a quick hit and they walked. Too much info, it’s all too hard!

And here come our boys in blue. This is what they want, a good old fashioned action scene!

Ren’s stomach churned with the clicks. The thuds following sounded like heads hitting pillows. But the heads hit the pavement, didn’t they? A good, meaty smack the Dictaphone couldn’t pick up.

You know what pisses me off the most, Ren? What slaps me out of my wet dream? They don’t give a fuck!

His friend was crying like a confused teenager. That’s what the papers will say, Friend of. ‘Friend of Renowned Movie Director’ next to a photo of them on set, smiling, with their arms proudly folded over chests. Two college kids made good.

He could hear police sirens wailing like a slapped kid.

Ren, this one is for you old buddy.

Another bang followed by distinct sound of panic in the streets. Terrified screams, confusion; they’d have scampered like cockroaches under harsh kitchen light. He could almost see the scene, and tomorrow he would—over cereal and toast … or from behind bars.

That one was for me? Oh Jesus. “Excuse me a minute, I need the restroom,” Ren said. Restroom … Yeah, he was going to rest in there all right. He evacuated French fries and burger, wondering which poor bastard was shot for him.

"Good. You’re back. It’s nearly finished", the cop said, smiling, thinking and so are you—finished making movies, finished like David. All his money, energy, and love pumped into a film nobody wanted.

You know, if one man can make a difference then it’s all worth it.

The last click was followed by a sound of scraping plastic. The Dictaphone skittering along the rooftop, joining skull fragments.

The cop pressed stop. "I need you to answer a few questions."

'course you do, just doing your job, sticking to the script. Ren answered the questions. ‘Yes’, ‘no’, ‘go fuck yourself’. None mattered. Not really.

As he was led to his overnight cell, all he could think of was David’s smile on the day they finished filming. Big Cheshire cat grins as they drank beers overlooking the city of dirty angels at three in the morning.

They were making it.