70 Toilet Theater Presents...

Clus-turd Works of Shart 

Ah. Film as Shart. Welcome to its porcelain gallery. Tonight, as usual on Toilet Theater, we're taking a look at some of the most craptastic movies ever shot. (shat) Like many Toilet Theater features, they are all available to stream on Netflix etc. If you believe your mind is strong enough to emerge intact, put yourself through the hot, horseshit trenches that are these films. If not, I've already gone through them for you. I learned nothing. In this case, that's good. Thus is the nature of all shartistic masterspurts. Like Hollywood, we will all shit till we die…

Terminal Force AKA Galaxis (1995) 

Terminal Force, Galaxis, Galactic Force, Star Terminator, Robo Sonja in Space Wars… Go ahead. Pick one.
"I'll be back…" 

OK. I'm back. This is a movie about magic space crystals. It can safely be called the Double Dragon (see post 57) of Terminator/Star War rip-offs. (LINK) Not only is this intergalactic starshit helmed by the busty, blonde, brute, Brigitte Nielson (Cyberdine Systems Model B-900), you may recognize some of the others on board with her.

See if you can spot them all:
1. The Korean store owner from Michael "Pussy-Throat" Douglas's angry, acting opus, Falling Down.
2. The chick from Tron (1982).
3. Director Sam Raimi.
4. The British henchman dude in Cliffhanger. "Season's over, asshole!"
5. Bull, of TV's Night Court.

R.I.P. - Fred Asparagus 1947-1998


  

Legion of Iron (1990)

Read as Jack Palance: "This one, isn't a porno…Believe it..or not."

Legion of Iron is a tale as old as time. Boy meets Girl. Boy likes Girl. Girl likes Boy. Boy plays football. Boy is unaware that his football skills are being scouted by some evil dinks. Evil dinks kidnap Boy and Girl while they're parked at make-out point. Evil dinks push Boy into steroid-based, combat cult in a clandestine desert fortress accessible only by helicopter. The Boy's name is Billy. A gross dominatrix molests him. Classic. Thankfully, there is a distinct lack of genital shots in the Legion of Iron, so the sex scenes are hilarious but retain an understated grossness. 

Legion of Iron has a dude named "Warrior." That's it. Just Warrior. Most of the fight-jerks in this movie don't have last names or any fuckin' manners at all, for that matter. I mean if you're gonna fight a guy to the death, the least you could do is be polite about it. Haven't any of these damn, dirty apes ever heard of a t-shirt? Cripes. Imagine the smell. Thus is the essence of this martial arts epic.  

Legion of Iron: FAKE-ASS Trivia

At the last minute, in hope of saving this cinematic shitstorm from its inevitable bargain bin placement, director Yakov Bentsvi called on childhood friend, and longtime collaborator, Woody Allen. Allen came on set one day, during the filming of one of Legion's many, awful, fight scenes. In what could only be called a mild, nervous breakdown, Allen angrily scurried around the set. Constantly, yelling at an incredible pitch, Allen berated his friend with verbal abuse as he pointed out every single one of Bentsvi's follies. Associate producer Mark Dane reported seeing Woody, repeatedly jumping up and hitting Yakov over the head with a clipboard. They later reconciled, and went to a big, choke-fuck party at David Carradine's house that night. Good times.

Dolly Dearest (1991)
I always hate seeing the Mom from Pet Cemetery. It fuckin' sucks. This ass hole thinks she's actually hot? She's in this one. Damn. Lookin' at that face. Not cool.

This piece of shit also stars Rip Torn. It's about a girl Chucky. Pre-Tiffany. It takes a starving, homeless-man-sized bite out of Child's Play, yet it also gnaws on congealed bits of The Omen, and The Exorcist, without ever digesting them properly. If you like to see storytelling elements you've seen before done minus their original quality or impact, you will love Dolly Dearest. (LINK)

I was really hoping it was a remake of Mommy Dearest except with a doll instead of Faye Dunaway. My hopes were severely beaten but then hugged and kissed manically. It would have also been nice for the doll to use a funny old man's voice. "NO WIRE HANGERS, NEVER!!" Fortunately, the voice of Dolly is still pretty awesome. Maybe they should have had her do a puppet show version of Jay Z's version of Hard Knock Life with a bunch of other identical dolls. A puppet music video, out of time. That would've been the most.

Though I am uncertain of how many times you have to hear Eyeball Puss Mom say her daughter's name "Jessica" in this heap of feces, I am certain that I got sick of hearing that little bitch's name. If you think I'm out of line calling a child a little fuckin' piece of shit bitch, then you must not have seen this movie. That little girl is a total cunt. What should we even expect with stupid asshole parents like Pet Cemetery Mom, and Surfer Dude from Apocalypse Now Dad? Not much. Meh.

The Horror-Doll Genre only has one success story. It is not Dolly Dearest, and he does not share power...

Badlanders AKA Prison Planet (1992)

"Mad Max meets American Gladiators in the Ultimate Road War."

-actual tagline

Badlanders, AKA Prison Planet, is true to its slogan. It was directed by the always tasteful, always brilliant, Armand Ganzarian. No, I didn't make that shit up. He's a real dude. Many of you may be thinking the same thing that I had: Sounds like the Secret ID of Seymour Skinner. I belive it was a nod to this legendary director. Ganzarian is known in most elite filmmaking circles as "Ganzarian The Great", or simply, "The Great."

Hot on the Heels of 1989's "Games of Survival," (Ganzarian's debut, a tour-de-force about a paint-balling-style alien who must battle other aliens on Earth.) Badlanders is from the heyday of this brilliant and mysterious creator's filmmaking odyssey- spanning over half-a-dozen years. How was Prison Planet, or whatever it's supposed to be called, concieved? Let's look at the facts: Armand Ganzarian saw Star Wars, Akira, Mad Max and Road Warrior. Years passed. In an attempt to remake both Mad Max and the Road Warrior as one single, better, movie, he hired some dudes with giant chests.(?) He outfitted said chest dudes with wigs and dune-vehicles. Bam. Badlanders. Prison Planet. Whatever you call it. 

This minimalist Mad Max (Slightly-unbalanced Maxwell) featured Ganzarian's bold vision for a better Max, "Blaine." Yep, that's the hero's actual name. A name that strikes murderous fear in the minds of all who hear it. He kind of looks like if Christopher Reeve had a baby with Matt McCoy (AKA Lloyd Braun) of Seinfeld, Star Trek TNG, and The Hand That Rocks The Cradle fame. It isn't him though. Yes, surprisingly, it isn't the hybrid-mutant-love-child of two beloved actors. It's just some dude named James Phillips. After Phillips brought his little Road Warrior interpretation to the screen, he was told to go to his room, and never act again. 

"You never could compete with LLYOD BRAUN!"

-Frankie C.

Miami Connection (1989)

This epic fight film comes from my shameful, beautiful, home state of FL. It stars the practically eyebrowless, master martial artist, Young Kun "Y.K." Kim. Thanks to the very awesome Alamo Drafthouse (LINK), we can all now enjoy Kim's cinematic shartwork. (LINK)

SPOILERS follow in my attempt at a full synopsis. See Kim fight. Fight Kim fight.

The movie opens with a classically inaccurate depiction of Ninjutsu. Some ninjas assault a drug deal. Some biker dudes go to a makeshift club where The world's greatest Tae Kwon Do band, The TKD Experience (featuring John Oates cousin, Don Oates) plays. The next day, YK Kim breaks up a fight in a UCF parking lot. That night, the TKD Experience, on their way home from a gig, are viciously assaulted by a bunch of dorky stick-fighters. Mr. Kim easily makes quick work of dispatching the stick-dorks. He and the TKD Experience go back to their friend's house to hang out with their shirts off and watch their black friend cry. The next day, they all go to the beach where they drive around, splash each other, and hit on ugly chicks. Orlando in the ass of the gay 80s.

A TKD lesson/demo with YK has him beating up on students, breaking bricks, etc. The stick-dorks come back. They beat up TKD Experience's favorite hangout's owner. A challenge is extended via a note carefully placed on Kim's car. 3 members of the TKD Experience, including Kim, show up for the fight. The stick-dork-gang leader is a guy called Bitchbeard the pirate. He watches from his car as the fight unfolds. The Cops show up and the fight is cut short.

Florida biker montage w/ Biker Ol' Lady boobs. Bitchbeard asks some bikers to help him beat up YK & friends. The montage continues. Shots of TKD Experience at home again, with their shirts off, feeding each other fruit (Really.) and reading mail. Shots of TKD Experience at UCF campus. Don Oates gets abducted by some gay dancers who work for Bitchbeard. YK and the tall dude (who started all this bullshit in the first place by fucking Bitchbeard's sister. The dumb lunk.) go to rescue him. Kim nearly gets crushed by a big, fat, red-haired guy in sweatpants. Instead, the fat dude is crushed by YK. Then, it's YK vs Bitchbeard: Final Battle? Bitchbeard dies, but their troubles have just begun. "No one escapes the Miami Ninja!"  

More shots of YK and the Experience, shirtless at home opening mail. The tall dude goes back to banging Bitchbeard's sister. Ninjas arrive on Honda bikes. The fight moves quickly from the street into a swamp. The black dude gets stabbed, so Kim drags him through the filthy swamp water to try and revive him.(?) Tall dude kills some ninjas and several brightly-clothed, crew members are visible in the shots. Kim kills some ninjas too. Tall dude gets cut. YK shakes when he kills guys. YK vs Miami Ninja Leader: Final Battle? Finally. Kim wins. The black dude lives. The tall dude loses his shit. In the end we are left with this inspirational message from YK.

"Only through the elimination of violence can we achieve world peace."

To eliminate violence one must beat and slice up a bunch of dudes you don't know, to stand up for your buddy who's trying to bang one of their sisters? Only then will total universal peace and harmony exist forever for everyone in the whole world? OK, YK.

If we did achieve world peace, there wouldn't be actual dudes in Florida, wandering around with their shirts off in swamps with katanas. But there are. You bet your ass there are.

Don't shart yer shorts. Get your rocks off with your socks off. Until next time.

-2013 Wielgorecki

69 Love & "The Sex"

"You got sex in my love!".."You got love in my sex!"

You can have great sex without love, but why would you? Love seems to me to be one of those words like God, Right, and Wrong. One we use to create great power within ourselves. What we do with this power is just a matter of perspective and intent. What is greater than even God itself? God's Love. What is stronger than any marriage contract? The Right Love. What do we go looking for sauce-soaked in bars? The Wrong Love. Love is the most powerful of all the power-words on earth.

As a straight, male, human, my brain is naturally pre-occupied with primarily sexual thoughts. I see a strange, sexy woman, I speculate. I have never been dishonest about this. As long as you're not sitting around with family, why not steer a conversation towards sex? It's way more fun than talking about God, or morality. It is a great way to gauge the squares, who usually blush and float away during a graphic sex conversation, yet who's awkward laughter is always welcome communicative music.

Not everything is about sex, despite Freud's frauds. However, almost anything can be made sexual, and has been, for good or ill. Today, both the medical and psychological communities almost universally concur that non-violent sexual fantasy is healthy. When someone calls me a pervert, I just think about all the hours of moral pounding they've probably taken. I pity the uptight. Imagine suffering all those hours of anti-sex lectures. Years and years worth of it. Bummer. This will often have a reverse-effect too. Turning the morally battered into gross, drooling actual pervs. The pot calling the kettle black.  

When you love someone is it really supposed to be forever? Fuck. You're only supposed to love one person, according to some rules some dude wrote one day. I think it was some fucker who's wife was cheating on him. Why just one? I won't bother quoting divorce statistics. People get sick of each other. It doesn't mean they didn't love each other. It also doesn't mean they both can't love other people better. I have been "in love" with just about every woman I ever had sex with. The long-term "loving" relationship is the greatest arena sex can have. That's it.

"Fuck your Love."

-Best thing an ex ever said to me.

-2013 Wielgorecki

68 Poop-Culture Phenomena...

Our Poop-Culture continues to spiral out of control. We watch the universe of televised crap swirl about us. We grab what we can out for pleasure, or self-education. Sometimes you grab a treasure (see Betty White's Off Their Rockers), sometimes you find a turd in your palm (see American Ninja Warrior). And that's just NBC…There is a video online that has SpongeBob singing "Steppin' on the beach.." for a full hour (LINK). Try playing it sometime during a muted episode of Charmed, Highlander, Xena or whatever your favorite show might be. Test your might...

Hamhock Grope

So named for all its hammy inhabitants, Hamhock Grope is a quiet town with many horror-series-inspired secrets. It was originally known as Dexter Twilight's True Blood Carnivale. But the Hams decided that name was too long, and named it after themselves. Full sail. SPOILERS ahead...like it matters.

Meet the Hams 

Madame Ham- Once a powerful X-man, she now fucks the brother of her dead husband. She takes magic eye drops for some fucking reason, seems to want to fuck her son, and has serious trouble with accent consistency.

Ellis Ham- as in Brett Easton. This guy read Less than Zero too many times. Son of Madame Ham. He's a rich teen rapist who has the power of that red light thingy from MIB. That's pretty handy for a dude that's this hammy. One powerful douche.

Largebody Ham- Madame Ham's daughter has a big-ass body. To do that monster body good she's gotta eat a shitload of food. She's got a fucked up eye. Also her head glows blue. She covers up the glow and fat eye with a nice big black crop of ham-hair.

Gypsy Wolf Ham- The messiest transformer in the land. Gypsy Wolf Ham lives with his Gypsy Witch Mama in the woods, and often hangs out with his whore-sister, who is a dirty, Gypsy, whore.

Strong Asian Freak Ham- The strongest Asian Ham in all of Hamhock Grope. AKA Ham Hands.

Blonde Ham- Just what it sounds like. She is Ellis Ham's cousin. She gets knocked up by a winged man. Then, while preggo, she bangs Gypsy Wolf Ham. Gross.

Introspective Ham- A young writer, who isn't half as eloquent as the mute Largebody Ham. She's supposed to be a teen, yet looks 11. She's friends with Sheriff Ham's twin tween sluts.

Egyptian Lover Ham- A hot black chick who is a lesbian werewolf huntress. She beats a preggo werewolf bitch to death and hacks off her head. She gets sweaty a lot. It's awesome.

Survival of the Stupid w/ Bear Grylls

Is that how you spell that dude's name? I guess. He's on a new show. He better make all those fuckers drink poo poo water. I would. What is it we love so much about watching entitled, lazy people cry, suffer and get scared? Perhaps I have just answered my own question. (see post 28- The Biggest Crybaby...) 

Stanley Cup Slogans

Hockey is one of the most physically challenging activities in the world. It requires as much grace and finesse as it does brute strength and violence. This Year's Stanley Cup was brought to you by...

Discover = The worst credit, a credit card gan give.

Coors = (as I sip some) Lowering quality & our cost of production since 1951. 

Honda = Coming Soon: Super Robot Wars

Verizon = The Real Life Umbrella Corporation. 

enterprise = Buy the insurance, retard.

McDonalds = Gatorade/Coke/Disney/ABC. We can murder you.

Advil = When you'd prefer stomach and liver harm to the weed high.

Crown Royal = Pretend people like you.

Geico = More crappy insurance with funny ads. We also have that lizard.

John Hancock = Now accepting black-people-money.

United = We're an airline. Fuck you.

Subway = We just don't fucking care. Eat our shitty bread. Now with more colors and types of seeds…

Samsung = We're pretty good. Pretty…pretty…pretty…

Dunkin Donuts = When Taste No Longer Matters.

KIA = Another Korean Disappointment

GO Hawks!!!

YouTube Jewel Sack

Normally, I'll find a YouTube Jewel here and there. But this time it is a whole fuckin' sack. Hoo-rah.   

Vice- If you aren't one of the millions who've already started getting the real world news, subscribe to Vice, now. (LINK) 

VPN- The Video Podcast Network (TVPN). On Earth, there are about 2 billion podcasts produced every day. At least it seems that way. Needless to say, most of them are shit and dead air. Some of them, however, are triumphs of comedy. Most of the great ones are on VPN.    

JASH- Another VPN Channel, JASH, is Tim & Eric, Reggie Watts, Sarah Silverman, and Michael Cera. They each have their own channels that feature new material, and some feature classic videos, too. It's easier if we do these individually.

Tim & Eric- There is a Tim & Eric channel (LINK), but both Heidecker (LINK) and Wereheim (LINK) have their own separate channels. Tim's is more acting-oriented, while Eric's is more directorial. For instance, I had no idea that Eric directed the intensely graphic video for Health's We Are Water. Killer. He's also done several videos for Major Lazer which are fuckin' rad. It appears that both these guys are as talented behind the camera as they are in front of it. Tim's channel features some kick-ass improv pieces featuring him and fellow hilarious genius, Brett Gelman. It also has a lot of Heidecker's stand up, which is stellar. Aspiring stand up acts could all take a page from Tim's book. If you were a fan of Tom Goes To The Mayor, Awesome Show, or The Comedy (see post 44) you'll love these.

Sarah Silverman- Every girlfriend I ever had, hated Sarah Silverman. I always loved her stuff. Sarah never pulls punchlines, and she's one of the best female comics out there. When she wasn't busy getting high and masturbating, Sarah's been entertaining us for almost 20 years now. Like her comedy, she's aged fantastically too. (probably all those weed-gasms) Her "Voices of Learning" series is fucking hilarious. (LINK) 

Michael Cera- I'll start by stating the obvious: This kid is a true talent. Cera's channel features two short films: Brazzaville Teen-Ager, and Gregory Go Boom. Both films have great production values. Cera has created 2 realistic yet surrealistic flicks, taking a more artistic rather than a comedic angle with his films. If you want to see SuperBad, watch SuperBad. If you go looking for that kind of humor here, you won't find it. These films are 2 fascinating character portraits. I'm not going to spoil shit. Just see it: LINK.  

Reggie Watts- I have sung the praises of Reggie here before (post 45). To quote Reggie himself "..Anything is possible, as long as you really try to disbelieve what you think you may know about it." All that's left to say is, watch listen and enjoy…LINK.

It is crazy how the world of entertainment is becoming so closely knit into its audience. In some cases, like VPN and its affiliates, this is positive and progressive. In other examples, like Hamhock Grope, it is trite and derivative. In either case, I can't wait to see what's next. 

-2013 Wielgorecki

67 Edilogue...

Often when I think of Ed, I think of the Skid Row song "18 and a Life." He was fucked. I blame his parents, who are probably both deceased, now. Not to speak ill of them, but they didn't really care about Eddie, and he suffered because of it. He was a smart and somewhat athletic kid. He could have really been a great adult. Unfortunately, I know he turned out otherwise.

I was still friends with Ambo until high school. One day, he and I were going into this skate shop about 3 miles from where the fire had happened all those years ago. Before we entered the shop, we noticed a kook with a bright orange tie dye shirt on across the street waving insanely to us. It was a 16 year old Eddie. He crossed and said some loopy shit right off the bat. Something about Jim Morrison or Jimi Hendrix. When we asked him about his life and stuff, he told us how he sold all his video games and sports memorabilia (he had a Bo Jackson rookie card and baseballs signed by both him and Michael Jordan) for weed. After spouting off a bunch more cryptic hippy shit he began to wander off. We both shook his hand and bid him well. 

After High School, lots of my friends went to art school. There were all kinds of parties at the party houses that surrounded the school. Ed had apparently lived in one of these houses for a while. I never saw him there. I heard about him 3rd hand, as he was now known by a new name: "Crackhead Ed." It appears that he'd gone completely mental, and had to be kicked out of the house. Even though I laughed when I was told, I later thought about how sad it was that such an intelligent dude could fall so far. 

I saw him riding the bus a few different times after that. The first time, he was sitting inside, at the window. He'd gained some weight, but it was definitely him. I never forget a face. I waved but he didn't look up. I figured he was half-asleep, or couldn't see me. The next 2 times I saw him he was on foot at the bus depot downtown. I stood in his path and made direct eye contact with him. He looked directly at my face. I smiled, but I didn't say anything. He gave me this look like "yeah? what?" and just kept walking. A far cry from the tie dyed kook I'd seen outside the skate shop 4 years earlier. The 3rd time I saw him I called his name out and he didn't even seem to hear it. He just had that same blank stare from before. Puzzled and sallow, his posture was that of a much older man.

I spoke to Ambo again in 2009. He told me he'd had the same experience I did in running into ol' Eddie. Ambo is a way more recognizable dude than I am, but he still got the same blank look. Like Ed was in another world watching something far away. Maybe he was. Maybe he's still there. The guy was a kook, to be sure. But it's knowing and being around kooks like him that give you crazy stories to tell, and disturbing memories that'll last a lifetime. 

Ed, wherever you might be today, I hope you're OK, dude. I hope you can read this, and I hope you're still alive.

-2013 Wielgorecki

66 Crazy Eddie Part III

Disclaimer: All these stories are real. It is unfortunate that I am unable to consult with any of the individuals in them to confirm certain details of my memories of these events. I have refrained from writing the full names of those involved, but those who know me personally know who I'm talking about. None of the first names were changed. No one involved was innocent.

Part 3: Almost Arson

I used to run away from home pretty often in Middle School. I'd usually just go on super long bike rides. It wasn't really to run away. I never stayed out overnight. I never left town. It was to avoid my parents and punishments like grounding. I don't think there was a week when I was 12-13 that I wasn't grounded. I was a little shit, as I've said before. Sometimes when I'd run away, I'd go meet up with Crazy fuckin Eddie. This was the only way we could hang out, eventually, because neither one of our parents wanted us hanging out together, with very good reason.

One day, when I had been a particularly bad little asshole, I had to "run away" without my bike. Being the loyal friend that he was, Ed locked his ride up and walked with me. As usual, the mission was to raise hell. We went to one store and stole a bunch of trading cards, candy and lighters. Then we went to this discount pharmacy where we'd learned from a fellow delinquent, you could steal cigarettes, which we did. This was back before all the stores wised-up and put them behind the counter. It was also before the retail security camera. We broke out, got some 25 cent soda cans, and hid in an unused alley. There, we smoked cigarettes, talked about tits, vaginas, and ate our ill-gotten candy.

One store after another kicked us out, and one manager after another was cussed out by Eddie. His brutal verbal lashing of the poor fat lady at the Hallmark store made me kind of uncomfortable. Ed just had no filter at all. "FUCK YOOOU! YOU FUCKIN FAT WHORE! YOU FAT BITCH!!" Punctuating the word "bitch", he toppled a display on the way out. I remember thinking to myself: "This shit is getting really crazy here." We watched the cops arrive, hidden in some bushes outside a bank that was closed near the Hallmark store. We had to hide there a while. I remember staring at that cop car. I was imagining myself in back of it because of Ed's rage. My brain told me then and there: "This guy's out of fucking control." But still, I didn't go home. I suppose it was for the same reasons that people watched Ultimate Warrior's monologues, rather than switch over to NOVA.  

The sun was sinking as we left the grocery store with some freshly pilfered snacks (I was partial to tubes of raw cookie dough and handfuls of candy from the candy bins.) I knew we were both going to have to go home soon. Tomorrow was a school day, and I didn't start skipping school until a year or so later. We climbed on the roof of a nearby shopping center, and smoked more cigarettes while we hucked little white roof pebbles onto cars in the purple border of night. (This was before all parking lots were all aglow with halogen lamps at sundown.) A lot of them would brake suddenly, causing us to jiggle with silent laughter above. Horrible. Dangerous. Stupid. Fun.

Another cop (or possibly the same one from earlier) started circling around, but left after a cigarette or 2. We climbed down, and walked to another, larger shopping center a few blocks away. Although this mini mall was larger, most of it was shut down. That's because on the ass of this particular shopping center was a restaurant and a nightclub that had both closed down a few years earlier. There were tons of dead brown vines that crept up alongside the boarded up restaurant. For aesthetic, it had shitty, old, wood panelling along the side, all the way to the roof. A goddamn tinderbox. I was lighting dead leaves and letting them burn in my hand until they touched my fingers, at which point I dropped them on the pavement to burn out. Ed started doing it too. Then, things began to escalate.

The leaves from the vines were so dry they went up almost like flash paper. They'd burn slower towards the stems. We pulled several vines off the side. Some of the wood panels fell off as we did so because they were so dry and rotten. Wood degrades quickly in Florida. We dropped this mess into a huge empty (save for some mulch) planter. The planter itself was also a wooden barrel style one. Then, intellects we were, we lit the pot's contents on fire. They flared up instantly. This was when we both got scared, I thought.

In no time the flame was 8 feet high. Ed started running away. "Fuck it! Let's get the fuck out of here!" he screeched at me. My mind went over all the things we'd done that evening. The people we'd pissed off. The cops being called, twice. Our faces would be remembered, and once those vines caught, it would be the end of that building. There was nothing to consider. "NO WAY!" I said. The sun had set. My heart felt like it would beat out of my chest as I frantically stomped the shit out of the planter, breaking it. Ed laughed, and tried to pull me off it. "Fuck this shit. Let it burn." I stopped.

There was no panic on his face. He wasn't scared at all. "C'mon!" He wanted the building to burn down. It was then that I knew this guy was really fucking bat shit. It took a few moments, but I darkened every tiny orange spark with dirt that had come out of the broken planter, and my sneakers. I had to be sure that not one ember remained. Crazy Eddie laughed at me the whole time, calling me a pussy.

I didn't hang out much with Ed from then on. We both knew why, though neither of us ever spoke of the fire. Our friendship had reached a point of no return. Much like I did again years later when I saw another "friend" throw a beer bottle at a chick's head, and like other friends did with me when I got blackout drunk and pissed on their shit. I'm certainly no hero for putting out a fire, that I started. I just wanted to burn some leaves because I was a dumb little fucker. I never wanted to be a juvenile arsonist, and I'm beyond glad that I never was. If that makes me a pussy, then pussy me right on up.

The buildings spared that night were later demolished, professionally. The mind of Crazy Eddie, however, would not be spared. Eddie saw to that.

-2013 Wielgorecki