Auctions, Contracts, Ultimate Annuals, Potter, Clams and Mindless Destruction: Brooklyn Heights Falls

Sunday, September 04, 2005

All right. First things first, the Brian Michael Bendis board is having a charity auction for Katrina relief. Lots of good stuff. Hoarse & Buggy put two things up for auctions, the original page 16-17 spread of Elk’s Run #1 (which, admittedly, even I’m bidding on – Josh currently has that page and it’s my favorite) and a set of Western Tales of Terror 1-5 signed by almost every creator. So go bid (or donate, if you can) and get good stuff while helping a worthwhile cause, all proceeds go to the Red Cross.

I readjusted my prose style and restarted my chapter book, banging out twenty pages this weekend. And, it’s probably not a chapter book anymore – I don’t see a clean break that I’d be happy with. So I’m thinking I’ll bang out a bunch more, get some readers on it, clean it up and start looking for a literary agent.

And before story time, I want to get a little mainstream for a moment and say that I read the Ultimate Annuals this weekend and man – I think I’m ready to get back into the Ultimate books. The Ultimate Spider-Man and Ultimate X-Men annual introduced MAJOR changes into the storylines, fun changes that really made the ultimate stories break from their non-ultimate Marvel counterparts and in both cases, the changes were something with some interesting story possibilities. Hats off to Bendis and Vaughan, I’m once again excited about these titles.

I also read the second Harry Potter book and the first 200 pages of the third one. Since last Saturday I read well over 800 pages of Harry Potter. Needless to say, I’m enjoying them a lot more than I thought I would.

I also had the New England Clam Bake from Legal Seafood last night which included clam chowder, clams, mussels, lobster, sausage and a side of rice. I followed it up with some good sex. It was a good night.

Story time…


On Friday I said I was going to do some sexy stuff this week but I was kind of bored writing it and came up with a much better idea. I’ve talked a bit about my rage in the past but what happens when my rage goes unchecked? When it turns to destruction, unleashing a mindless, heartless monster onto the populace bent on anarchy, feeding off of fear and property damage. This week we’ll explore what happens when rage goes too far.

Annie’s in Brooklyn Heights was a favorite destination for us underage drinkers. They rarely ID’ed us and when they did our fakes never gave us trouble. They had pool, good beer, a decent juke-box and plenty of sexy ladies. Whenever we were home for college we always found ourselves at Annie’s.

One trip to Annie’s left me and my friends extremely sauced. As per tradition, after we had enough to drink we made our way to Happy Days Diner next door for some rare bacon cheeseburgers, mozzarella sticks and milk shakes. The wait staff at Happy Days hated us. We were loud, obnoxious and always played the worst song on the juke-box. One time we put five dollars in the box and played the “Cops” theme song ten times in a row.

This time we were more annoying than usual. We played a variety of children’s songs and sang along with them, danced around, and asked the waiter questions that only drunk twenty year olds find funny. Like when I asked the waiter why they call it the “Fonzie Burger” if it’s not made of Winkler meat. I guess at the end of the night they wanted to make it worth their while so they included the tip on the check and didn’t tell us, hoping they’d get double tipped, I’d imagine.

Well, I noticed it.

And I started complaining, loudly, to anyone who would listen, “What the fuck is this? They think I won’t see this? I’m a fucking math genius! Just ‘cause I’m drunk don’t mean I don’t know math. I’ll take the derivative of this fucking check!”

At this point management kicked us out.

I was fuming as we walked away. We rounded Clinton Street and started to head towards Max’s house when Max told me not to worry, he got even. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out the flower vase that was on our table, complete with fake flower. This wasn’t a big deal; we always steal Happy Day’s flower vases (and gave them to our moms, which we found exceptionally funny). So, not feeling that this was enough payback, I grab the vase out of Max’s hand and throw it across the street – it misses some random guy’s head by inches.

The guy runs away, G shouts a loud “WOOOOOOOO!”, our rallying cry, if you will. Because this was when the destruction started.

I answer G’s “WOOOO” while grabbing a stack of freshly delivered Daily News in front of a convenience store and I chuck them at a passing car. The rest of our crew follows suit and begins to throw stacks of newspapers all over the place. G reaches down to grab a fresh stack but instead plunges his hand into Max’s stream of piss that he’s unleashing on the remaining newspapers.

And then things get silly. You see, this was Christmas break and a lot of houses had their Christmas trees out and awaiting collection by the satiation department. I pick up a Christmas tree and throw it a parked car, trying to break its windshield. It didn’t work, which enraged us even more. We started picking up all of the trees we could find and chucking them into the middle of the street, blocking it off, chucking them at people’s houses, etc.

Then came the trash bins. Running down Clinton Street towards Max’s house flipping them over, throwing them. There was a couple making out in a parked car and I chucked a garbage can at them and ran on.

By the time we got to Max’s we left about ten blocks worth of destruction behind us. We attacked Brooklyn Heights like Dr. Doom and the neighborhood was never the same again. You know, in a comic book sort of “never the same again” type of way.


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