I write short stories. I own surprisingly few pairs of shorts. I sometimes short circuit.
"Alana" sounds like "A lotta" = A lotta shorts.

Take the title however you like.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Miss Trubble's Trouble

Normally I don't like to barge in here as Lanii and preface things. I prefer to put the title of the story in the title of the post, copy and paste from Word and give you a story.

However - this needs a little prefacing. I'm working on a film noir, private eye spoof for a class I teach and I thought it might be fun and interesting to post some of it here. If you have any thoughts - feel free to let me know in the comments! Thanks!

(The formatting doesn't stay and I don't have time to reformat. Sorry about that!)

Scene 1
In my line a'work, you got two kinds'a days: slow ones and fast ones. Today was as slow as a traffic jam on the 401 going into Toronto the night of a Celine Dion concert. Yea, she's got a nice voice but the only sound that's music to my ears is the sound a wad of cash makes as I flip through it with my thumb.
After all, I'm not a record producer. I'm a Private Eye.

The name's Hunter. Chase Hunter. I work alone. Except when I work with with Eddie, my partner. Then we work together. Which is all the time.

We hadn't had a job in weeks. With the economy sagging worse than Eddie's pants (Eddie hikes up his pants) even the crooks were cutting back. Once muggers started pulling IOU slips out of their victims' pockets, muggings went way down. Gangsters were turning themselves in just so they could have a roof over their heads and something to eat. There was hardly even a crooked cop to bust. It was nearly Utopian. And completely depressing.
LINDA enters.
Hey, Chase. Got a lady out here to see ya.
Well, let her look in through the window if that's what she wants.
(small laugh)
No, I think you're going to want to see her as well.
Ok...tell her to stand in front of the window and turn very slowly. Clockwise.
Counter clock wise.
Now what difference...
(cutting him off)
Chase - she has a case!
A case? A case of what? Soda pop? The blues?
The Mondays? The hiccups? Benjamin Button?
Good question, Eddie! (to Linda) Is it a curious case?
It's a CASE! A situation! A mystery to be solved? By detectives? (gestures to them)
(offering help as CHASE looks confused)
I think she means this lady has a job for us, boss.
Oh! A job! Ok, that makes more sense 'cause I was like, "A case?" Wha?...Next time just say that, Linda. Sheesh! I'm not a walking slang dictionary! (clears throat) Ok, send her in.
Just then, I knew my day had turned from slow to at least moderately paced. This dame was gonna be trouble for sure. Dames usually are.
Enter Carlotta Trubble in a red dress, red hat, red shoes, fur coat and a gold clutch. And white gloves.
Hello, Mr. Hunter. I'm Trubble.
You mean you're in trouble.
Well, yes. But, no.
Oh, you mean that there's trouble comin'.
No. The trouble's already here.
(running about trying to hide)
It is!? Where! Hide, boss, hide!
No, no, no! I AM TRUBBLE. My name is Carlotta Trubble. T-r-u-b-b-l-e. Trubble.
That's a very unfortunate last name, I must say. That's the kinda name that could get you into trouble, Miss Trubble.
Oh, I know. No matter where I go, Trubble always follows me.
Yes, I suppose it does. Now, what can we do for you, Miss Trubble?
(sitting down)
Well, boys: I'm in trouble.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Sasha & Chuck: Part Four

[Read Episodes ONE, TWO & THREE]

Chuck hit the “end” button on his watch and raised up on his haunches. He peered over the rooftop ledge of the building adjacent to Sasha’s penthouse. He was not pleased about her decision to go home alone. So he followed her. Everything did appear secure, otherwise when she had called, he would have blown his cover to keep her from going inside.
That was until Chuck saw something strange. At first he thought that it was just a light coming on in another apartment. But then he saw that it was moving. Suddenly, Chuck knew exactly what, or rather who, that ball of light was. Lumin. And he was after Sasha!
Chuck scanned the apartment for Sasha. There she was, coming out from the bathroom. She was talking to Lumin! Just standing there, talking to him. Why wasn’t she going for help or fighting him?
He must be brainwashing her, Chuck thought. He stood to his feet and jumped up into flight in milliseconds. Hovering outside Sasha’s bedroom, Chuck weighed the options. Either way, he knew two things: one - Lumin can only be physically apprehended when he’s in human form and consequently, two - he’d have to take Lumin by surprise. Chuck flew back a few feet and flew head on through the glass, wrapping his arms around Lumin and wrestling him to the ground.
Sasha zapped Chuck with a bolt of electricity, enough to knock him off his feet. As he sat stunned, Lumin returned to his ball shape, whispered something to Sasha and vanished out of the broken window.
“Chuck! What are you doing?”
“What am I doing? I’m saving you from Lumin! What are you doing trying to stop me?”

“I did stop you, Chuck. You always think you’re more powerful than me. Aw and look what you did to my window!”
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Chuck rubbed his head as the shock wore off. With a sweep of his hand, he picked up all the scattered pieces of the window and reassembled them without even the hint of a crack.
Sasha gave Chuck an icy stare but ignored his statement. She walked methodically to her kitchen. Her mind was arrested by all the things Lumin had told her and she needed to process. She filled a tea kettle and put it on the stove to boil. Chuck was only a step behind her.
“Sasha, what is going on? What was Lumin doing here? What did he say to you?” Chuck was losing his patience. He was starting to hope that she truly was brainwashed as he suspected. Otherwise she was just being rude. And annoying.
Sasha turned to Chuck with the lost look of someone who’d been betrayed by their closest friend.
“He said,” she stammered. “He said that…Chuck, Lumin is…he’s my father.”
“He’s my father. I’ve known it for a long time but I just…I could never find the right moment to tell you.”
“So…wait a minute…whose side….”
Sasha cut him off, a determined finger aimed dead between his eyes.
“I am with the Forces. I always will be. I’m with you, Chuck.”
“Then why the hell did you stop me?”
“Oh, everything is about you.”
Sasha turned back to the stove, pointed her finger at the kettle and zapped it until it sung. Even she wasn’t sure whether she was annoyed at the time it takes to boil water or if she’d thought better of shocking Chuck again and directed her emotions elsewhere.
“Great. So you’re just go into Woman Mode: loaded questions, snide remarks, misdirection, making it all my fault and then saying I’m making it all your fault. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”
A wind kicked through the apartment and the lights flickered on and off.
“You think you know me, Chuck? You think you’re so perceptive about me and my moods? If you were, you would have known that what you just said to me was the worst thing you could have said.”
Chuck sighed.
“I’m sorry, Sasha. You’re right. It’s not an eye for an eye here. We’re in this together.”
“Oh, no we’re not. You’re in this for you. The only reason you care about protecting me is so you can have me for yourself. Never mind the fact that I have clearly said, time and again, that we’re done. You don’t care about what I want or what makes me happy. You just want to be happy. You. You. You. You.”
With every ‘you’ that quietly and angrily left her tightened throat, Sasha took another step towards Chuck. She raised her hands like claws as all the lights in her apartment went out and she began to glow white hot blue.
“Sasha, don’t. I thought you said you were with me!”
“I did. But when I said it, I meant it. And the best thing for you right now is for you to get out of my apartment before I kill you. And so help me, if you don’t use the door, I will kill you for breaking my window again.”
Chuck was smart enough to know he’d lost this round. Keeping his eyes glued on her, he back out to the door, opened it and left.
The electricity whooshed back into the lights and sockets of Sasha’s apartment. A dim white afterglow hung about her as she crumpled to the floor in sobs.

About Me

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I'm Lanii. I try to Be Good. It doesn't always work. "Call Me Lanii" is sort of about that - my inner and outer triumphs (what?) and struggles. "Alana Shorts" is sort of about that, too: I draw way too much inspiration from the crazy and strange events that actually happen to me and end up writing very little 'fiction'. I usually have my tongue quite thoroughly stuck in my cheek.