Sunday, June 17, 2018

Random movie June 17th 2018

I just saw the Canadian film Hunting Pignut. It stars Taylor Hickson and Joel Thomas Hynes.

plot: After the ashes of her father are stolen at his funeral, a teenaged Bernice runs away in search of her father's friends. She soon finds herself thrown into a new and semi-welcoming world she was never sure she really wanted to know about.
This is based on a true story.

I'm sort of torn on how I feel about it. I liked it, but I'm not sure I loved it?  I have to admit, I watched this because of Joel Thomas Hynes. I've been a fan of his since the movie Down to the Dirt. He definitely steals the scene in every second of footage he's given.

It's a beautifully shot film, set in the heart of Newfoundland, showing us both sides of the so called coin. It's grit and confusion balanced perfectly as we watch young Bernice become Story, and try to walk the tightrope of who she feels she should be for whom she's with. To say the character has daddy issues, is pretty much an understatement.  She finds a diary which she at first thinks belongs to her father but quickly realizes belongs to his best friend Pignut. Her attachment then to Pignut becomes blurred as she seeks him out. What starts off at first as her connecting with Pignut as a role model and substitute father figure, soon crosses into a crush before turning romantically volatile. And all within the time frame of about 72hours.

What makes this such a powerfully emotional film, is what makes me say I'm not sure I loved it. The very core of the relationship between Story and Pignut. They have both just lost an important part of themselves, and struggle to reclaim a piece of it within each other, only to self destruct.

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

The Nosferatu Adventures s13 p7

The Nosferatu Adventures
page 337, chapter 337

Out of Time

Five months ago...

He whimpered, he was scared. Cool. Alone. One second he was sniffing the edges of the bookcases, tracking a spider, the next he was underneath a pile of heavy books. The noise hurt his ears. The half St. Bernard half hellhound dug himself up out of the wreckage to find himself alone. He whimpered again as he lifted his front paws as if a child marching in place. But no one came. No one was left to come as the little furball began investigating the emptiness. The people who cared for him were gone. All of them. The auburn haired male werewolf, the two human familiars, even the redheaded human who liked to feed him gingersnap cookies. They were all gone now. Shaking his ears, at lest the horrible noise was over. The pressure had hurt when the noise had happened. His little ears were still not working right, there was still a slight ringing that was keeping him from hearing things the way he should be. The little hellhound mix began sniffing the ground as he tried to remember where everything used to be. Four steps left and there should have been the large sofa and tv, but it wasn't there. Another ten steps straight and the door to the outside should have been there, the one that had the bell on it. But it wasn't there either. Sniff, sniff sniff. He thought he found a scent that he recognized, though it was so weak. With his nose pressed hard to the ground, the little creature began hunting for the people who should have been there.
The sky had gone dark twice since he'd been hunting the scent. His legs were trembling with nearly every step now. His stomach empty and painful. He stopped at a puddle to drink once, but that had been so long ago now. Then suddenly, the scent began to get stronger. He got excited as he followed the scent his head down, before smashing into a glass door. Growling lightly he shook his head again, licking his muzzle as he jumped up on his hind legs, his front paws now pressed against the glass door. The hellhound's nose was working overtime as he found the seem of the door, the scent he'd been hunting just on the other side of the glass.

Detective Arthur Holmwood was standing over his desk, staring down into the box in front of him at the pile of files. He realized that everything he'd worked so hard for the last few years, was gone now. There was no way he'd be able to continue working as a detective being a werewolf. At lest not now. Not when it was still so new, so uncontrollable. Arthur's nose twitched suddenly, his ears perking up. There was another supernatural creature in the area. Very faint, but just close enough to have the new lycanthrope's attention. Licking his lips, the sandy-blonde male straightened up to his full height of over 6'feet, his blue eyes swiftly scoping out the police station. Seeing no threats in the actual building, he shrugged it off. He had been jumpy the last few weeks, since things had gotten quiet with the covens.

"Aren't you a cute little fellow?"  Detective Holmwood looked up from his misery to see one of his co-workers walking towards the break room, a dirty looking dog in her arms. The creature began to snort and whimper as it wriggled in her hands, turning it's head trying to see the source of the scent. It was indeed a werewolf, just not his werewolf.  The little furball let out a howl as he tried to communicate with the shapeshifter.

Something in the pit of Arthur's stomach told him this wasn't an ordinary dog. The fact his instincts were to react like it was another wolf, that he wanted to mark his territory clinched the idea. Quickly, the male crossed into the break room, touching everything as he did. The little hellhound yelped in joy, his front paws treading air as he tried to get to Arthur.

"You found him." the werewolf found himself saying without thinking.

"Oh is he yours?" the female co-worker asked with a hint of sadness to her voice. She had hoped no one was looking for him; had planned on taking him home to her kids.

"Yeah. He must of got out again, followed me to work." the detective said reaching for the hellhound.

"Lost his collar too. What's his name?"   Arthur had to think fast if he didn't give her a name for the creature, she'd know he was lying. His gaze landed then on the cover of a discarded magazine someone had tossed into the bin. There was a picture of one of the actors from that teen vampire movie Quentin had liked.

"Twilight. His name is Twilight." he mumbled embarrassed as he reached for the creature. The little hellhound began licking Arthur's chin clearly happy.

Two hours ago...

Arthur whistled as he entered the warehouse. The fluffy ball of fur bounded over to him, sniffing him wildly. He smelled different, he smelled like soap today. It made the hellhound's nose tickle as he waited for the werewolf to get him a dish of water. Twilight snorted as he saw the way his new caretaker wince as he lifted his one arm. He was still in pain from the bite. Twilight didn't understand why his werewolf hadn't healed yet? It should have healed instantly, but it had been three sun ups since his caretaker had been bitten by that very large creature. Three sun ups since the hellhound had watched his caretaker read from the pages on the table in the middle of the warehouse and open the wall.

"You ready for a walk?" Arthur asked as he grabbed the leash off the table. Twilight grunted as he waited to hear the snap of the leash on his collar. It felt weird still, this thing around his neck. But he knew it was so he didn't loose his caretaker. Knew it was so he didn't have to wander the streets hunting for him if anything happened again. The hellhound tilted his head to the side as he saw the way the male werewolf looked over at the corner of the warehouse. How he looked at the curtained off corner. The corner Twilight had been guarding the last few days. The corner of the building where the large bathtub was. Where she was. The creature that had come from the wall, who had bit Arthur.

Tune in again for another installment of the Nosferatu Adventures starring your up story. Uh oh, somethings fishy)

Sunday, June 10, 2018

Coffee Talk Sunday June 10th 2018

Spudguns! How's it where you are? Spiffy. Good to hear.  Just running in for a brief moment, to say this week's Nosferatu Adventures, will be up on Tuesday, June 12th 2018.

That was literally all I wanted to say today...but since I can't just post one line...we are 143 Days till Hallowe'en, and the countdown continues on my facebook page every day. So, don't forget to join me on there. I'm doing a quiz every Saturday and the Quote of the Week every Wednesday still; with other stuff randomly throughout the week. (here)

Sunday, June 3, 2018

The Cinema Files s1 p8

The Cinema Files
page 8, chapter 8

Flowerpot Fantasy

"Dessie." Vincent's voice broke through the static. Blinking, I turned to accept the small paper cup that was in his outstretched hand. "Yeah." he said closing his deep brown eyes shaking his head slightly. "We're out of medium and large takeaway cups. The delivery guy never showed."  he was standing in the doorway of the video store when I got there; a smirk suddenly brightening up his eyes. "But your delivery guy seems to have been on time." he side stepped exposing the large bundle of  pink and yellow flowers that were propped up against the door in the bright green wrapping. "Blake's been here already." Vincent said scooping them up taking a deep breath.  I nodded as I sipped at the coffee, unlocking the door to the video store. The sound of dvds sliding across the floor as I did, didn't do anything to help my mood. The store might not have been open yet for the day, but over half the returns were already back ready to be sorted, the pile ankle high with two jammed into the return slot.

"Huhhh. I hate it when people do that." I replied letting my hand slap my thigh. "How difficult is it to drop them in one by one? Huh? Why do people feel the need to stack them together and ram them in?" sighing, I put my purse in the little closet-office and the coffee on the counter, before grabbing a pencil to try and wedge them out. It was technically just a mail slot that had a metal latch over it, but people loved to use it to make those uber early morning returns.

"Okay, you look like you should be starring in one of those zombie movies. Not get any sleep?" Vincent asked as he continued to cradle the flowers like a child.

"Yes, you can take them for the cafe. Blake can yell at me about it later. And yeah. No sleep. Was over at the storage unit all night." I grunted as I managed to get the dvds unstuck from the mail slot.  I started to count the returned movies. All but one had been returned, indicating that either I was going to have one customer come in later and rent something new, or they were going to have a late fee. I was betting on the late fee.

"I saw the newspaper.Your boyfriend..."

"Not my boyfriend."

"Your not boyfriend-boyfriend, got the lead headline on a second murder. Think they're connected?"

"I know, and yes. I was with him when the body was found. No it wasn't a date. Not really anyways. Both were drowned. Thing is, I know I've seen the girl before." I commented without looking at Vincent, while I grabbed the stack of dvds checking them into the system. "Those Go-Go boots just remind me of something?"

"Like the ones from that sex tape?" Vincent's voice was solid as it shocked me back to focus. Putting down the dvds, I moved to the little closet-office and popped the sex tape on.

"Oh my god! You're right. Totally right." pausing the tape I pointed at the chick. "That's her. That's the body found in the bathroom."

"You're sure about that? You're going to ID someone by a pair of boots? I mean, those look pretty generic. Could have bought them anywhere."    I shook, my hand at him waving off the idea before tapping my finger on the screen again.

"It's not the boots. It's what's right above the boots. Just at the crook of her knee." 

"She's got a tattoo of a rose."

"The police said there wasn't anything to identify her with at the scene. No purse, no ID. But I'm sure by this point they've started to track the tattoo." I turned off the video, removing it from the dvd player and stashing it back in my purse.

"Track the tattoo, track the victim."  he leaned on the edge of the door frame, his belt buckle catching the glow of the blue tv screen. "Okay, so what do we know? Land developer and tattooed chick do a sex tape. Tattooed chick ends up dead, drowned in a toilet."

"Right after a random guy was found drowned in a puddle. Plus, some other random guy was looking for the sex tape, in what could only be called a frenzied panic. Plus, the fact the Land Developer just bought the old tomato factory."  I said tapping Vincent's belt buckle.

"Tomato factory?" his voice took on a question mark of it's own.

"Right, that was Rudolph's contribution." I made a clicking noise as I shooed Vincent out of the little closet-office, the front door of the video store opening to expose the first customers of the day.  I saw the look of disapproval in Vincent's dark eyes. I'd stepped on his ego by sharing information with my reporter boyfriend, and not him. "That's all he knows. I swear. I haven't told anyone about the sex tape."

"The sex tape is ours. Private between us." he smiled then tilting his head to the side his shoulders back, chest puffed out once again.

Tune in again for another installment of the Cinema Files, starring your up story. Everyone's got a small piece of the bigger picture.)

Thursday, May 31, 2018

Round Up FnF May 2018

"I bid you welcome to my home, please enter freely and leave some of the happiness you bring "- Dracula

Spudguns! It's that time again, the round up for Foodn'Flix. And my selection this month was the 1992 Bram Stoker's Dracula. Let's see what was dug up...

First up, is Camilla from Culinary Adventures with Camilla, who made Corpse Reviver and  her Stakes through the heart Sanguinaccio  She was inspired by the scene between Dracula and Mina when they are out for dinner and he serves her absinthe.

Next up, is Wendy from A Day in the Life on the Farm, with her Vant Your Blood Martini
She went with a classic vampire go to, lets make everything bloody good. 

Then we have Evelyne at CulturEatz with her Transylvanian Sour Cherry Margarita
She was inspired by not just the area of Transylvania, but of the sweet fruits and summer memories connected to it.

And lastly, Mine I made a trio of  hors d'oeuvres. An Impaled Tofu, homemade garlic flatbread and mushroom Tartare.  I was inspired by the character of Renfield.

With that nailing the coffin shut on this month, remember you can always join next month along with Simply Inspired Meals, and their selection The Incredibles.  

Sunday, May 27, 2018

The Nosferatu Adventures s13 p6

The Nosferatu Adventures
page 336, chapter 336

Out of Time

Our heroine sniffed as she listened to the phone conversation Seward was having with Quentin. "Don't forget it's got to be like the size of a big phone book." she said from across the room, busying herself with the task of making a cake.

"She said super size it." Seward repeated into the little phone. He watched from the corner of his eye as first Ruthven, then Vlad floated through the kitchen proceeding to look over the female's shoulder, and attempt to stick their finger into the mixing bowl. Poor Edric was the third and final straw as he got his hand bitten not just slapped when he did. "Hang on." Seward spoke into the little phone before showing the photo Quentin had just sent, for approval. Nodding, our heroine dodged another attempt of Edric trying to steal a taste of the batter and ended up falling backwards into his shoulder, as he planted a kiss on her ear.

"I still hate that beard." she grumbled between giggles. "Like you've got a dead rat on your face."

"Okay, so, he said that he and Zeddy will be here by morning. This seems a bit outrageous if you ask me." Seward replied scratching the corner of the cell phone against his face. "You realize it's costing seven hundred dollars for this prop right? I mean, that's rent money for a month."

"Seward, trust me. It's a tiny price to pay if this works." Nosferatu said finally putting the cake into the oven.

"If it works. Big if." the dark haired human said pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"It has to." the female banshee sighed under her breath. "Cause we don't really have any other options."

"And what happens when this Dax fellow realizes instead of getting The Seer's family spellbook, he's gotten a fake?"

"I haven't gotten that far yet. One step of the plan at a time."

"Um...why is that mirror smoking?"  Ruthven asked pointing to the white trimmed mirror they had in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room. It had been the Van Helsing's great grandmother's.

" no no no!" our heroine was so taken by shock and panic that she froze at first before attempting to move through the kitchen, her legs refusing to work as she knocked over a chair and sent a bowl of corn flakes flying. "He's turned it into a magick mirror..." she gasped in near tears her hand on her chest, breathing heavily when she saw the grinning child waving at her. "Damn you William! What the hell are you doing?" our heroine's eyes went pure white of the banshee as she let her fear melt into pure anger. Tilting her head she growled at the image in the now two way mirror.

"That would be the youngest." Vlad commented softly as he moved back into the hallway from the kitchen."I don't suppose you remember me? You were barely a toddler when you and Maxwell left." he said planting a plastic smile on his face, his top fangs exposed slightly as he lend one arm on the kitchen counter, crossing his ankles. He was every bit the impressive vampire king he truly was suddenly for the sake of the child. He sensed more than saw the shiver of distrust and distaste on the little half breed's face. Vlad all but laughed out loud at the thought of it.

"Well? What the shack do you want?" our heroine nearly spat at the mirror as her shoulders slouched forward in a battle stance.

"Nosferatu." Seward blinked as he felt ashamed suddenly at her reaction.

"Fine!" she hissed not bothering to look at her human friend. "You talk to the little rodent." she moved now like a blur out of the kitchen and up the stairs towards the attic.

The silence was longer than expected and just as heavy. A deafening weight of steady uneasiness from the werewolves, and humans alike as they all stood waiting for the other to say something; anything. It wasn't until a few birds started to chirp loudly outside the kitchen window, that the silence was broken. Seward looked at the clock realizing they'd actually been standing there awkwardly for nearly two minutes half embarrassed, half confused.

"Oh my god kid, not so fast." Landin seemed to appear out of nowhere as he half stumbled down the stairs, his left palm pressed flat against his face. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, his face splotchy. His cousin couldn't tell if Landin had been sleeping, crying or punched? But the area around his eyes were the colour of beets. "Yeah yeah, I'm only a shacking human I don't move at warp speed." he ignored everyone in the room heading straight for the cupboard over the stove, grabbing himself a glass and pouring it full of bourbon. Swallowing a large amount of it, the bleached blonde let out a deep breath and closed his eyes. "This is William Blacksmith Frankenstein. And he's giving me a migraine chill out!" Landin's voice rose in an unusual state of anger. "Look kid, no one cares okay. Big deal, you won some stupid jousting competition. Whoo hoo, big shacking deal." he gulped back another swallow, snorting in boredom. "No you're not." he snarked pouring another half glass.

"Would you care to enlighten the rest of the class?" Ruthven said as he lit a cigar near the back door of the kitchen.

"The little brat here is saying something about coming here and ruling or some crap." he gestured with the glass, slopping the amber liquid on his hand. Drunkenly, he shook the droplets off before wiping his hand on his jeans. "First off, this isn't a kingdom. Second, Nosferatu isn't interested in having you around. None of us are."

"Landin, what's gotten into you? Huh, he's just a kid." Seward found himself scolding his older cousin and for some reason really feeling sorry for the little boy on the other end of the mirror.

"You try having that whiny little half breed's voice in your head." he slammed the glass down on the counter, his hands now gesturing wildly at his ears. "Going on and on about how his brother is sailing somewhere looking for Loki and this Maxwell is ruling the kingdoms..."  This got Vlad's attention as he stood straight leaning forward, his hand out towards the psychic.

"What do you mean, Maxwell is ruling the kingdoms? Isn't Rolf or Reuben king?" Vlad asked.

Tune in again for another installment of the Nosferatu Adventures starring your up story. Will the kingdom ever be safe?)

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

The Cinema Files s1 p7

The Cinema Files
page 7, chapter 7

Sun-dried Slapstick

I sat at the little laptop, a pile of files at my feet, a small container of  pecan ripple ice cream on the desk beside me, and my back refusing to straighten up. I had left the video store and gone right to my aunt's storage unit. I needed to figure something out about these murders. I couldn't help it, but for some reason, I felt those two drownings were connected. I just had no idea how to prove it yet. And I wanted to do it away from the apartment. Rudolph had talked about nothing on the way home, but he had his reporter face on. I know, because my aunt used to have the same face when she was figuring out a story for the newspaper. A blank stare, knitted eyebrows, mindless mumbling under her breath when she was adding up facts and untangling motives. That random gasp of air where her eyes would go really wide for a few heartbeats while her hands hovered in midair. Then the quick and curt excuse to leave. Rudolph didn't get as far as the gasp for air and hovering hands, we made it back to the apartment building before he could.  On top of that, the good night was very awkward. All the flirty behaviour he'd had during dinner had mysteriously melted away, leaving him a zombie like puddle of inner thoughts.  Much like my ice cream was doing. Wiping the wet dripping rings of meltedness off my desk, I let out a deep sigh.

"Coffee..." I spoke out loud to myself as I got up from the desk and went over to the little fold out card table near the door. Opening the coffee tin, I let my shoulders drop. It was empty. I think I actually pouted for a second before putting the lid on the tin and letting it back in it's spot. My eyes grazed the title of one of the crime novels but my brain wasn't registering what it was. I was too busy arguing with myself about going out to get coffee or staying for another hour. Crossing back to the desk, I reached for another of the napkins I had there, wiping more of the melted ice cream off the edge of the desk, the container it appeared had a small hole in the bottom. "Of course it does." I said again out loud to the wall. Getting back up, I tossed it into the waste basket, my hands sticky from it. I was out of napkins. Reaching for the small pad of note paper, I decided nothing to do but sacrifice a couple to clean my hands. That's when I noticed the playing card. The three of diamonds, with the numbers 413 written on it.  Nothing else. Nothing to indicate if it was a time, a date or an address or what? "Well, you're a clue." I said picking it up and examining it. "But what to? Huh little card?" I stopped stared at the map over the desk sighing deeply. "Okay time to go for a walk. Get some fresh air, grab a coffee."  My gaze shot to the corkboards sitting on the floor a few feet away. I thought the card needed to be saved where I could see it. There were no extra tacks for the boards, and I didn't see any on the desk. The little drawer on the side of the desk which one would expect to have office supplies, didn't. As I rummaged through it, I found an old photo of my aunt Jackie when she was in college. There was a day planner under it, sticky notes and folded clippings sticking out of it. Half of them recipes. I'd forgotten she'd subbed for the recipe of the week column her first year on the job. The papers were so golden yellow with age. I smirked to myself. Even in the beginning she had added her trademark little red stars to them. I looked again at them. Only five had stars, all the ones written with EJL in the byline. My stomach growled forcing me to grab my purse and sweater leaving the storage unit for the moment.

"That will be about 15 minutes." the pizza guy said taking my order. I nodded and said I'd be back to get it as I headed to the dollar store across the street. They were closing in less than that, and I had fully intended on heading back to the storage unit for the next few hours. Grabbing a package of thumbtacks and pens, I spotted the corkboards at the end of the row. I thought, why not? What's one more in that already over cramped space right? Grabbing the largest they had, I proceeded to the snacks shelf, picking up paper towels, a handful of chocolate bars, and a small container of coffee. I was about to check out when the newspaper caught my eye. The restaurant death was the lead story, written by Rudolph of course. Grabbing one, I paid for my loot and headed back out to the pizza place.

Tune in again for another installment of the Cinema Files, starring your up story. Ah, Reporter Face; I know it well.)