Category / NaDruWriNi

by Edward Champion

#7 — a story

The divine Ms. Frye has challenged me to write a story with the following terms: “Christopher Cross,” “champagne,” “linoleum,” “Etruscan sculpture,” “werewolf” and “Australia cricket.”

So here goes:

STORY:

Chris stared at the kitchen linoleum. It looked quite sparkling and amazing after about two bottles of champagne. Of course, to appreciate linoleum, it helped to be as close to the surface as possible. But Chris was at an advantage here, given that the champagne had essentially stopped him from standing, knocking his ass quite savagely onto the floor.

It occurred to Chris, as his tongue licked the tile while he waited for the feeling to return to his arms and legs (anything to stave off boredom), that he had not yet seen an Etruscan sculpture. Clearly, there was a disadvantage to being an agarophobic. He’d hit Italy one day, if he could find the appropriate specialist who might be able to help him understand the outside world. Assuming he could even make it into the outside world.

He’d obtained the champagne by calling a friend. He had to celebrate the New Year somehow. And he figured that he couldn’t handle Dick Clark on the teevee without ingesting some kind of substance. So he would need champagne to cope as he heard the screams outside of people enjoying themselves.

But what Chris didn’t know was that his friend was a werewolf. The primary reason his friend had moved to Pacifica was because it was foggy most of the time and there was no chance that he’d turn into a werewolf anytime soon, given that the fog would occlude great Helios. Sure, there had been a stint in Sydney, where he’d become a devout participant in Australian cricket. And he’d been very good. But the minute that they had shifted to night games, Chris’s friend had reneged on his dependability, given that he was a furry monster hoping to mawl some insignificant human — ideally, a human resources manger or some other person who didn’t contribute all that much to society at large.

Nevertheless, the champagne was had without bloodshed. For the fog had once again protected Chris’s best friend.

Chris had made the mistake of leaving the FM radio on. At the precise moment when Chris was prepared to fall asleep in a particularly shameful and ridiculous locale, Christopher Cross began to sing on the radio. This disturbed Chris, as Chris didn’t particularly trust anyone who shared his Christian name.

But with great endurance, Chris was able to survive the terrible Christopher Cross music. And he soon settled to sleep onto the kitchen linoleum.

Unfortunately, when Chris caught a bit of alcohol-induced shuteye, during stage one, the fog had lifted from the town. And it was a full moon. And his friend, unable to control his urges, found himself a meal. What Chris hadn’t known is that his friend had been the famed singer Chrisopher Cross all along.

If there was a winner in this tragic tale, it was the linoleum. For when the appropriate authorities had cleaned the place up, the linoleum had demonstrated to the landlord its remarkable resilience. For all the blood, spilled champagne, and other odd fluids gracing its surface, the linoleum could endure. And the tenant who moved into Chris’s apartment was as impressed with the linoleum as the previous occupants, even if this tenant had not known its grisly history.

by Edward Champion

#6 — champagne

Folks, explain to me the following mystery. And it comes to me because champagne right now is the order of the evening. (Good Christ, is the bottle almost finished?) Sure, Arthur‘s a fine movie. One of the great comedies featuring an alcoholic with a good performance by Dudley Moore. But who was the “genius” who thought that Christopher Cross’ falsetto ballad “Best That You Can Do” was somehow apposite for the film? It can be thoroughly argued that Christopher Cross contributed absolutely nothing to popular music during his career. Even if there were a few misguided souls who thought that Cross’ falsettos projected a certain sensitive male aura, one could argue that Cross’s variety of sensitivity was not only utterly inappropriate, but quite detractive from the plight of the film’s ironic character.

Even Cross’ lyrics leave little to be desired for anyone who cares for the written word:

If you get caught between the moon and New York City
I know it’s crazy but it’s true
If you get caught between the moon and New York City
The best that you can do,
The best that you can do is fall in love

Come on, Cross! These are shallow metaphors. Even if we were to accept the strange locale of “between the moon and New York City,” there are other interesting things that one can do, such as develop an ability to fly or breathe in the vacuum of space. This in itself might be “the best that you can do,” given that it would have very positive results for humankind.

In fact, Cross’s music continues to be accepted to this very day. Even the hipsters at All Music Guide have given his debut album four and a half out of five stars.

If “Walking in Avalon” doesn’t horrify you the way that it horrifies me, I seriously want to know why. Sure, I can understand the appeal of Bread and Supertramp. But Cross was without a doubt the Phil Collins of his time, specializing in shallow lyrics and vapid song structures. By what stretch of the imagination should he be seriously considered?

by Edward Champion

#4 — battle royale ii

Now drinking the Korbel used to top off the Hangman’s Noose.

I’ve watched a little bit of Battle Royale II and, based on the fifteen minutes I’ve seen so far, let’s just say that it’s not as interesting or as eye-popping as the first one. If anything, it seems to be more of a confused retread. The kids who slaughtered each other on the island have now, get this, declared war on adults. And somehow it all ties into terrorism. In fact, there’s now a faction group of “BR supporters” which numbers ten million — a political bloc that seems to think that kids killing each other on an island is a fabulous idea. (And you thought the United States was a scary place.) Inexplicably, the game has spread to Japan and now one can personally enroll in the program through the Internet. (Gee, that’s an extremely stupid idea given that you have a 1 in 40 chance of staying alive.)

It’s safe to say that this plot makes no sense. First off, let’s do the math. 365/3 days of killing = 121 survivors per year. Since we saw in the first film that there is some downtime between classes killing each other, this would suggest to me that the number falls far shorter of this 121 survivor rate. Let’s put it at 50 survivors.

So in Battle Royale II, it’s three years after the first film, which would give us around 150 survivors. Since the Japanese government controls these massacres, it seems to me that they would be quite capable of either corralling the surivors or taking them out. If they have the resources to kidnap schoolbuses and send them to an island, then certainly they will be able to control 150 vicious loose cannons.

Further, if there have been 150 survivors, that would mean that there have been 5,850 deaths of children. Even if these kids were vicious, why would anyone advocate that much death? Now we’re talking a figure of “10 million BR supporters.” Now Japan has a population of 127 million. Which would suggest that 8% of its population thought highly enough of rampant childhood homicide to campaign for it.

Either Japan, as presented in the Battle Royale films, is a very fucked up place or there is something seriously wrong with the story logic.

More importantly, the fact that Beat Takeshi is nowhere to be found on this film sucks ass.