The Book Of Vincent. Chapter Twelve.

Chapter 12

The ice air of mid-September froze Vincent to the bone. His ex-hailed air hung in the air like smoke from a fire. He stood their, waiting for the bus that was to take him to school, when he saw Cyri walk towards him.

“Hey Vinc,” she said as she walked towards and stood by him.

“You sound tired. If so, may I ask why?” Vincent looked at her face and noticed that indeed she had these huge dark circles underneath her eyes.

“Yeah, I am tired. Hey, what about instead of us riding that retched bus to school, we just walk. It will wake me up faster anyway.” after looking around the area, he decided that he would. They started off slow, and very quiet.

“Okay, why were you up last night so late?”

“Actually, I have been like this for the past few nights.” Cyri said as they walked along the sidewalk. “What has been on my mind is if this entire idea of The Children Of Darkness is good or not. I mean, I like the idea and I love the fact that I will finally get my revenge on Ratliff and the hell he caused me. But I am worried that we could end up doing something that we will all regret towards the end. I know, this is stupid, but I am like that. I have the problem of constantly over thinking things I know I shouldn't. But for this, it is kind of hard.” Vincent gave a low chuckle.

“Cyri, it is nothing to be worried about. All we are going to do is find ways of how to split up the gangs and make sure that it never happens again. Simple as that! But I do like the fact that you are thinking threw this. That is good.” Vincent threw his head back and sniffed the scented air that was around them. He would probably never admit it in front of her, but he liked walking with Cyri. It just, felt right to him.

“My next thought that has been going threw my mind is: what are we to do first? We already know the back stories of them. So, what was the point about that and what are we going to do first?” Vincent thought for a few seconds, then came up with a respectable answer.

“The only thought that I can come up with as of this moment is to probably black mail them, turn them against each other and then overtime they will separate and then, no more Children Of Ghettos!” He could tell that Cyri was not at all impressed with his idea. He could tell by her face.

“Hey, it is the best I can think up of as of now! Do not worry. Sooner or later I will think of something more worthwhile. But for now, that is the best we can do.” They entered onto the open field that led to the school. As they walked closer and closer to the building, there was the silence that was eclipsed around them.

Once inside, they parted with Cyri finding her group and Vincent to the school's media center. He helped out in the mornings there by shelving books, running errands, and just helping the two old ladies that worked there. They never really talked to him unless it was to give him a command or to greet him when he walked into the center. It amazed him at what types of books kids that go to his school would read. He constantly wondered what happened to when kids his age were read books that actually told a story, improved your intelligences, and overall, changed how you viewed the world. It gets on Vincent's nerves a lot. After the first bell rang to report to your home room, he packed up and left.

When he entered his home room, he sat in his usual seat next to Cyri. At school, they very rarely talked to each other other than at break or lunch and the reason why is simple: they figured that if they talk all the time then sooner or later they will run out of things to talk about and today in particular they were not in the mood to talk, but instead observe. Observe the person known only as Ratliff Hodge. It became apparent to Vincent that he shared two classes with him: Language Arts and Math. During these times, he took notice of how he was loud and very obnoxious while being disruptive during class. He could not believe that when he first came to this school he never noticed him until he learned about him and his crimes. Anyway, the hole day lasted with his mind going on and off about how he would deal with this little problem.

When the day ended, he gathered his belongings and started to walk out of the school until Zat came running to him.

“Hey, Vinc,” He said in a bit of a hurry. “Do we have a meeting today or not?”

“Not today. Remember: we only have meetings on the weekends. See ya later.” before he was about to take off, Zat grabbed his shoulder.

“Do you mind if I walk with you? I am going to have to anyway.” Thinking about it for a few moments, Vincent decided why not. Cyri was to stay after school to work on some test and Tad was going to take Coraline out for a date that night (it was odd to go on dates on a school day, but he did not ask). After a few minutes, they were outside and started talking.

“Damn, it is too warm here.” Zat started complaining. “I wish to God I still lived in Canada. The cold up there is nice.”

“What are you talking about dude? It is freezing here compared to where I use to live. In Georgia, it is boiling hot!” Vincent said with a little laugh. They were silent for a few moments.

“You have something on your mind Zat.” Vincent said when the silence had gotten to him. “Please tell me what it is.” Zat took a deep breathe.

“It is two things: first has to do with The Children Of Darkness. The second has to do with someone in the group.” Now, Vincent was interested.

“Go on.” Vincent urged.

“Okay. With the group, my only worry is that we will end up falling flat on our faces about this entire thing. I mean, I have watched probably every gangster/ mafia/ yakooza film to date and almost every time, it all ends in disaster. I am wondering if that will happen to us or will we become victorious. What are your thoughts?” Vincent thought for a few minutes. The first thing thing that came to his mind was that he was glad that some of the members (he guessed) were at least showing interest in the group. But it also worried him because they are starting to have doubts.

“I am glad that you are taking an interest in this group. But remember Zat, this is real life. Not a movie. So, please do not associate real life with fantasy. That never ends well. Now, who is the person or persons in the group that you have concerns with.” Zat took a deep breath. He hoped that Vincent would not laugh or take this out of context.

“The problem is with, me.” Vincent looked at him questionably. “You see, I got news that we might have to move again. I do not know exactly where as of now. But it is a major possibility. You are the first person I have told and, I just needed to tell someone.” They were silent for a while until Vincent thought of something to say.

“Yes, it is tragic that you might have to move. But, do not worry. We will do something with this group to make sure your involvement is known.” Vincent gave Zat a reassuring smile when they parted to go to there homes.

The rest of the week had been very uneventful. The Children Of Ghettos kept a low profile and have been sense the little stunt with Ratliff back in August. Then Saturday came. The next meeting spot was at Jadis's house. Her house a little further away from Vincent's and Cyri's. When you go inside, the first thing you noticed was the scent of soap and the old black and white photographs of what appeared to be taken during the Great Depression era judging by the way the photos are yellowed.

When they first saw Jadis, they saw that she was in a regular tee-shirt and jeans sitting next to two old, elderly people. By the scent of the air around them, they were drinking hot tea and coffee.

“Hey, guys!” Jadis said cheerfully when she jumped up to greet them.

“Jadis darling,” The old woman said. “Who are these young people?” There was a politeness in her voice.

“Oh, sorry Grandma. These are my friends that I told you about. You remember? The ones that were coming over today?” After a few minutes, the Grandmother remembered.

“Dearie me! I am so sorry for being so rude! Let me introduce myself. My name is Elaine Schelty. And that man over there is my husband Rodney Schelty. I should have remembered. Let me fix you dearies some tea.” Then she hurried off to the kitchen getting a tea pot on the stove, boiling some water.

“OK guys. Let go into the Sun Room. Do not worry. She will bring our tea to us when it is done boiling.” They followed her to a room that was mostly made out of windows. The sun shone so brightly in there that for a few moments, some of them had to blink to adjust there eyes.

“I wish I had a pair of sunglasses,” Vincent said under his breath as he sat down into a rather large, comfortable leather chair. Everyone else sat on the numerous couches that surrounded the area.

“Okay, before we start this meeting, May I first ask were the Hell is Fron?” it was not until he mentioned his name did anyone even noticed that fact that he was not with them.

“Let me call him.” Ronnie said as he got up and left the room. They were all silent for a few moments until he came back. “He did not answer his phone. Oh, well. We can just fill him in later.” As he sat down, Elaine came in with a tray that had a collection of miss-match tea cups, a sugar bowl, powdered crème, and a wonderful steaming pot of boiling hot water. In each cup was a tea bag.

“Enjoy, darlings.” She said as she left.

“Bless her soul,” Jadis said as she started preparing her cup. “She is seventy-six, having medical problems galore, and she has to take care of me. She must be a saint.” Then they all took their time making the tea. When they were done, the entire room was filled with steam from the water and the odor of a tea shop.

“Okay, we have already wasted enough time. Now we need to get down to bras task.” Vincent said as he took a sip of his tea. “For the first item of business, we will hear Zat speak.” Zat looked up and took a deep breathe.

“What I am suppose to talk about has to do with my future in this group. You see, we got some news that we – that being me and my family – might have to move in the near future. As of now, I have no exact reason as to why, but the moment I do, I will let you all know.” Everyone, other than that of Vincent, had a look a sadness on them. More the guys then the girls.

“And as I told him,” Vincent said, returning the attention to himself. “We will do something to make sure that his involvement in this group was the most useful. Okay, next item on the list: The worries of some of you concerning this group.” Everyone grew a face of guilt, telling Vincent that Cyri and Zat were not the only ones that had their doubts about the group.

“Okay, let me just go and make one thing clear: This will work out! It has to! We are not going to kill anyone, break any bones, or snatch out any eyeballs. All we are going to try and do is split up the groups and makes sure that they can never reform!”

“Yes, that is all good and all, but what exactly is your plan Napoleon?” Cyri said sarcastically.

“Glad you ask, what I was thinking of doing is either black mail them, have one of us go undercover as one of the whores and set them up against each other, or stalk Snoop around and try to destroy his drug empire.” Everyone groaned.

“What?” Vincent asked semi-comedic.

“We were hoping for a much better answer.” Tad said as he gulped down the rest of his tea. “Now even I am starting to have my doubts about this group.” Vincent was growing red with anger.

“Oh yeah? Then what are your ideas if I may ask so much?”Vincent sat down and stared at Tad.

“We could just get a bunch of iron pipes and start bashing their brains out.”

“No,” Job said. “Remember: Ratliff as all of those hot shot lawyers with his family and all of that money and power. We do something as reckless as that then our asses will be grasped.”

The only thing rushing threw Vincent's mind was that this is starting to become harder than he originally thought. He was suppose to be the leader of them all, and yet he could not give a logical or even plausible answer that suited all of their desires.

“Okay, what about this: we just create a list of everything we have thought up of and we just do everything on the list. Each time one fails, we go on to the next.” After Vincent was done speaking, Jadis got up and ran out of the room. They were all silent. When she came back, she had a sheet of paper and a pen.

“Hey, Grandma wants to know if we want or need anything else?” Everyone was looking at each other, looking to see who would answer. “I'll be right back” and Jadis left. When she returned, she ended up having a plate of cookies. She laced them next to the tea. They decided to take this time to cool off and to rethink the entire plan of action. After a few minutes, they started again.

“Okay, I have the list here about what it is that we are going to do. The list is as follows: Black mail, sabotage, stalk, and the full war fare. That is about right. Any comments or questions?” Tad raised his hand. “If you are just going to bitch about my leadership, then do not bother raising your hand.” Tad lowered his hand.

“Alright, that is all for our meeting today.” They all gotten up, caring the dishes to the kitchen, thanked Elaine, and then left. The only thing that was racing threw his mind was that the entire meeting has been one major epic fail. But that was not on his mind when he got home and talked to his mother.

The Book Of Vincent. Chapter Eleven.

In the few days sense the creation of The Children Of Darkness, everything has gone perfectly as planned. They have all decided that they will tribute one room in each of there houses, preferably an office or dinning room, to be made into a gathering space from them to work. And today's room was Vincent's. The office was in the shape of an octagon. On all walls, except for three, a couch leaned against the teal green painted walls. Above the couches were a variety of pictures of cats, tigers, lions, panthers, etc. On one of the three other walls, a desk rested with a black desktop, a white printer, and a yellow lamp. On another, a wide window that almost, not quite, touch the ceiling and walls. Lastly, a soundless, mahogany set of double doors the were connected to the walls and touched the ceiling. Engraved in the door was engravings that looked very reminiscent of the Victorian Era of Europe. Then, out of nowhere, Tad walked in and dropped a gargantuan amount of paper on Vincent's keyboard.

“Watch it, Dumb-ass!” Everyone turned toward the desk that Vincent yelled from and saw the scared face of Tad. His face had permanent scares from the last encounter he had with Ratliff. Strangely, some of the girls in there school seems to find scars sexy, Vincent could not think why.

“Sorry Vladimir,” Vincent looked through the stack of paper and saw that Tad had done what he commanded. Maybe Vladimir was a better name for him than Vincent, for the name/ word Vladimir is Slavic for “great ruler”. The paper he had commanded Tad to get was the state records of the entire Children Of Ghetto's members and their back stories. It was Tad that was sent to retrieved them, because his mother was now dating a school security officer, and the head building had all of the files on every student in the county. So, all he had to do was go with his mother's boyfriend, with the impression that he wanted to get used to him, then quickly snatch the files. Vincent is pleased with Tad's work.

“You done well, Tad.” Tad smiled, pleased with himself. Then, Vincent motioned his hand for everyone to come near his desk. When they arrived, Vincent had already split the stack of papers into thirteen piles; one for each of them. He picked up one set and dropped it into each of there hands.

“I want you all to look threw these and give me a summary of what you find. I believe that if we learn from there pasts, then we may know how to stop them in the future.” They all went back to the positions in the room and started reading. One thing about Vincent is that he loved the peace, quiet, tranquility of silence like a library because he knew that it is suppose to be quiet. After about twenty minutes, Vincent threw down his stack of papers and looked up.

“Okay guys, spit it out,” they all looked at him. “what did you guys get.” It was Cyri that spoke first.

“Ratliff Hodge was born in California to two wealthy lawyers. At age five, he moved to Colorado. His grades were mediocre at best. He made friends pretty easily. At the time, he was known for attracting the most women, and men. Then, because I thought he was kind, sweet, and caring, I went out with him for three years. Then he moved to New York. When he moved back, almost everything about him has changed. From his appearance to his grades. He used to look like a respectable person, clean cut, nice clothing, always respectful. Now he has shaven his head, wears sagging pants, and he used to listen to music the school deemed as appropriate to heavy rap music. The kind with the references to women abuse, drugs, and other disturbing things. Then, when he revealed my past, he was sent to a school for delinquents called “Cross Roads”. At Cross Roads, he met Lee, Snoop, and Mycheal. Then, they created what had became The Children Of Ghettos. There job: Import drugs to others who could not afford it and sell male and female prostitutes to teens that want to get laid fast. Or need to have what appears to be a boy- or girlfriend. And when ever a selected person can not pay off there debt to Ratliff, he tracks you down with the trio (Lee, Snoop, and Mycheal) and they go to any means necessary to track you down.” Everyone looked directly at Fron, evil eyed. Fron looked around.

“What?!” He said, shrugging his shoulders. They kept on giving him the evil eyes. “So what if I am a nymphomaniac?”

“Then you better get your self checked into to rehab buddy,” Ronnie said, tightening the bolts on his prosthetic. “Because, if you don't stop humping every hole you see, you might end up in a coffin. Now,” He took a deep breath. “Who is next?” Everyone turned there heads towards Vincent.

“Uh... Ronnie, what about you?” Ronnie cleared his throat and began to speak.

“Mycheal Ballard was born and raised in the slums of Florida. Now, not to sound racist, but it was because of the Cubans that he learned about prostitution and how to convince girls and women to become his, sluts. Usually, he would try and find girls that are in need of being popular, and, face it, in this time and century, the only way some people believe to be popular is if they have sex. And, sadly, the girls he finds are like that. So, he gets them all prettied up and glamorous, then, completes the job, per se. When, he moved here, he decided to add men to his group for extra money. He joined up with Ratliff when he (Ratliff) became interested in his (Mycheal) business. Now, threw the whores and drug imports, they make more money then the average adult makes in a month.” Everyone had sick looks on there faces when Ronnie was done speaking. They knew he was a pimp, but not a pimp of that magnitude. Fron had a look of guilt on his face.

“Anyone else?” Vincent looked around. Nobody raised there hands. “Okay, now this is sad. I will arrange you all in an order and threw that order you will tell me your summaries of your person. The order will go: Job, Jadis, Zat, Jack, Tad, Dumas, Coraline, Joan, and Maxine.” Fron did not get a stack of papers. Taking a deep breath, Job began to tell his summary.

“Lee Blackmon is without a doubt, one of the most disgusting people you can imagine. He was born here in Colorado and had been put into juvenile a couple of times. The same reason: Rape. Usually he targets the social type of women every time: preppy and/ or cheerleader. Most of the time, they keep there mouths shut about the incident because they fear he will hurt them more then he has already. But, one girl did escape and rat him out. Thankfully, law enforcements got involved quickly to take care of this sick ass bastard. When he got out, he found comfort and companionship threw Ratliff and Mychael. He became close friends with Mychael because of the fact that he was pimp, he was able to have intercourse whenever he wanted for free and yet have it be alright. Then, when his police record could not get any more higher, it did: Drug charges. From what it says, he has been arrested on countless charges of underage drinking, cocain use, and a bunch of other uses that I can not pronounce there names. The last time he was in prison, it was about five months ago on an account drug use and sexual assault on five different girls. The girl's parents could not be found to be questioned or want there names or there daughter's names in the profiles. He was going to be sued on the charges, but Lee's parents looked towards Ratliff's parents, which were lawyers, for help. So, naturally, the families lost. And because of that, most families could not do any thing if there daughters feel into the hands of Lee Blackmon.” Almost every girl in the room and either a look of shock, disgust, hatred, or fear in there eyes. The guys had looks of either being pissed off, annoyed, or something else. A few minutes had passed, by now everyone would have had enough time to have the information sink down into them.

“For future reference,” Vincent said. “try not to say words like 'bastard' or 'asshole' when reading your summaries, unless it is part of the actual summary it self. Thank-you! Now Jadis, your turn.” taking a deep, shallow breath, Jadis looked around the room and prepared to read her summary.

“Snoop Blackwell is the main supplier of the schools drugs. He was born in Memphis's ghetto areas where he would spend most his time on the streets instead of at school or home. On the streets, he was taught the value of certain drugs, there effects, and most import, the cost. By the time he was seven, he was one of the most sought after dealers on the back-streets of Memphis Tennessee. Now, one thing that has always puzzled law enforcement was how he could have escaped. It has been suspected that he had some people on the inside, more than likely police cops, that would be willing to fake a breakout in exchange for drugs. When he was out, he would stay at other dealer's houses until everything was cleared out. But, that had all changed when his parents decided to try and have there son put under arrest. When that had gotten out, Snoop found a dealer that was coming to Colorado and payed the dealer to take him with him. So, when he had gotten here, he found Ratliff who was in need of drugs, and willing to keep Snoop in his house as long as he was able to get free drugs whenever he wanted.” She stopped and took a deep breath. Then, Vincent looked up from his notes.

“Thank you for sharing that with us, Jadis.” He turned his attention towards Zat. “Okay, Zat. You're up!” Zat straighten his back and began to speak.

Her Words: An Original Non-lyrical Poem.

Her Words: An Original Non-lyrical Poem.
By: Zach Brehany

Puppy love syndrome.
Breaking boundaries.
Not a strong enough connection,
connection with God.
Her reasons.

Hogwash.
The entire ordeal.
No clue as to her logic.
No clue as to her reasoning.

She told me to forget her.
That she is a bitch.
How can I forget her,
when she impacted my life so much?

Now she is gone.
Away from Georgia.
And it sucks,
I never had the chance to say good-bye.

And she cares not.

Antichrist: An Original Non-lyrical Poem.

Antichrist: An Original Non-lyrical Poem.
By: Zach Brehany

The name I am given.
The devil you know.
The essence of terror.
What people view me as.

I am not satanic.
I wear all black.
I am kind.
I am gentle.
And yet I am treated as a diseased bug.

I never understood it.
Why should I?
What is the point?
I am an outcast.
A loaner.
A nobody.
As long as I am,
I am the south's demon.

No one respects me.
No one cares.
If I was gone,
who would care?

?: An Original Non-lyrical Poem.

?: An Original Non-lyrical Poem.
By: Zach Brehany

I feel alone.
Void.
Different from everyone.
Outcast.

I should have listened to Brad,
when he said I was unwanted, nothing, just a rainbow in the dark.
I should have listened to Kyra,
when she said I was annoying, possessive, an asshole.

I know now that they are right.
Because I do not fit in anywhere.
What have I done wrong to anyone?
Why is this happening?
I think I am going insane.

What if I was gone?
Would anyone outside of my family care?
I doubt it.

Who do I actually matter to?

Gone: An Orignal Non-lyrical Poem.

Gone: An Original Non-lyrical Poem
By: Zach Brehany

The one I loved.
The one I hated.
Is going.
Going far away.

I should feel glad.
I was mistreated.
Accused of stalking.
Breaking boundaries.
But I feel sad.

I feel unhappy.
I feel so sad.
I lost the best friend.
That I ever had.

She'll be far away.
I know she will.
But I hope she will be happy.
More so than here.

The Desire: An Original Non-lyrical Poem.

The Desire: An Original Non-lyrical Poem.
By: Zach Brehany

I tried my hardest.

I tried strong will.
But she is logged in.
trapped in my mind.

I cut all ties.
She won.
I should be happy,
But now I am only in misery.

I can not
See
Smell
Hear
Feel
Or taste
without being reminded of her.
I hate it!
I want it to go!
To be friends.
That is what I want.

Old Friends: An Original Non-lyrical Poem.

Old Friends: An Original Non-lyrical Poem.
By: Zach Brehany

Years.
It's been so many years.
I can not believe,
The years that have passed.

I use to know them.
Years fog memory.
No memories.

Overtime,
Thou I hope
I can reconnect.
If not,
To bad.

Angels And Demons. Book Review

TITLE: Angels And Demons


AUTHOR: Dan Brown

RELEASED: 2000

RATING: Great Book

PLOT: Pitting scientific terrorists against the cardinals of Vatican City, this well-plotted if over-the-top thriller is crammed with Vatican intrigue and high-tech drama. Robert Langdon, a Harvard specialist on religious symbolism, is called in by a Swiss research lab when Dr. Vetra, the scientist who discovered antimatter, is found murdered with the cryptic word "Illuminati" branded on his chest. These Iluminati were a group of Renaissance scientists, including Galileo, who met secretly in Rome to discuss new ideas in safety from papal threat; what the long-defunct association has to do with Dr. Vetra's death is far from clear. Vetra's daughter, Vittoria, makes a frightening discovery: a lethal amount of antimatter, sealed in a vacuum flask that will explode in six hours unless its batteries are recharged, is missing. Almost immediately, the Swiss Guard discover that the flask is hidden beneath Vatican City, where the conclave to elect a new pope has just begun. Vittoria and Langdon rush to recover the canister, but they aren't allowed into the Vatican until it is discovered that the four principal papal candidates are missing. The terrorists who are holding the cardinals call in regarding their pending murders, offering clues tied to ancient Illuminati meeting sites and runes. Meanwhile, it becomes clear that a sinister Vatican entity with messianic delusions is in league with the terrorists.



REVIEW: Quoting author Clive Barker, "This is one hell of a book", is absolutly right. The job of an author is to craft a story that makes you think question what you know, and never leave you. This is exactly what this book does. If you read it, you must understand that there are three ways to read it. The first way is that you can read it as a thriller. THe second way is a way to explain the religion side of creation. ANd the last way is simular to the latter, but instead of religion, you got science. When I read it, I used all three at once and trust me, you will get a lot out of this long book that way.

But the thing that makes the book even more better is that 95% of the book is based on fact. That five percent being the actual events that happens and the return of the Illuminati. With all that being said, those that are of the Catholic faith might be turned away from this tale because it does go into the dark side of religion, showing how power hungary religion in gerneral was during the Renaissance. I was shocked when I learned that most of the crimes that did happen were fact, and you start to feel for the villians in this story. They are just men of science getting revenge for their ancestors that were tortured during this time period. ANd it is explained by one character (I will not reviel the name) the reason, or at least his/ her version, behind these crimes. With all that said, you must also realise that the Catholics were also doing what they were taught to do, so they were following orders of God. So, in all, you start feeling for both sides of the argument.

Now, I want to get down towards the characters. The main one is Robert Langdon. He is an interesting character because of his occupation (Religion Symbologist) and the fact that he works with religion, and yet has no faith at all. I find this interesting because most of the time, R. Symbologists usualy are of a faith. Besides that, he is a fun, intellegent character that anyone who ever dreamed of being a scholar of anything should look up to.

But the real person who steals the show is Maximilian Kohler. He is an old man that for most of his life has held a vendetta against religion for it was the influence that caused him to be crippled early in life. And with that in mind, you start to get a bit of an image about him, but towards the end of the book, it is shattered when you find out the truth about him.

Now, before I wrap this up, I will say that this is, with out a doubt, one of my personal favorite novels of all time and I hope that who ever reads this that you get a chance to for it is a rewarding experiance.

Twilight: Book Review.

TITLE: Twilight
AUTHOR: Stephenie Meyer
YEAR RELEASED: 2005
RATING: Two out of Four.
PLOT: When Bella Swan moves from sunny Phoenix to Forks, Washington, a damp and dreary town known for the most rainfall in the United States, to live with her dad, she isnt expecting to like it. But the level of hostility displayed by her standoffish high school biology lab partner, Edward Cullen, surprises her. After several strange interactions, his preternatural beauty, strength, and speed have her intrigued. Edward is just as fascinated with Bella, and their attraction to one another grows. As Bella discovers more about Edwards nature and his family, she is thrown headlong into a dangerous adventure that has her making a desperate sacrifice to save her one true love.
REVIEW: For my first book review, I decided I would review a book that is as of now a pretty hot topic: Twilight. I am aware that I am late to jump on the band wagon about reading this book, but I figure with the release of The Twilight Saga: Eclipse, I could not find a better time to write this review. I am going to start with the positives. The only thing I like about this book if the take on the vampire's mythology. Now, I am aware that there is some heavy controversy over the fact that the vampire's sparkle, but I ask you to look at it like this: is there any rules or laws that are set in stone about how a vampire should be? If you look threw history, there are numerous variations over the legends from the original (Dark, fiendish creatures), Dracula (romantic, evil), and the Anne Rice types (emotional, anti-hero), and that is just naming a few. But there never is, was, or ever will be a correct stance on how a vampire should be. Most of the rating is based on the fact that Stephanie Meyer had the courage to create her own mythology. So, if it involves sparkling vampires. So be it. If they have abnormal powers (controlling emotions, seeing the future, reading minds), then so be it. End of story.


The next thing I will give credit for is the overall plot. Now, I have read that there is no plot to this story. Let me shine some light on this. The plot is made up of a bunch of mini plots (Edward trying to have Bella hate him; Edward trying to control himself around Bella; Bella trying to escape James and Victoria) that are loosely tied together. THAT is the plot. And if you ask me, it should have been told threw Edward's perspective from the start.

Sadly, that is the only part that I found good. Now we go onto to the negatives. The first is Bella's judgment. This has to do mostly to the fact that she fell for James's trap at the end. May I ask how she could have fallen for that? How could she not figure that it was an audio recording of her mom from a home movie? And on top of all that, there were numerous times that I just wanted to slap Bella silly for her being brain dead and annoying. She was being annoying and brain dead when she thought that guys at her school were all drooling and had crushes on her when they were asking her out. Could she not have figured that they were just trying to be friendly and trying to make her feel comfortable sense she was new?

The next downfall is this: too much detail. I am aware that this is suppose to be based solely threw Bella's point of view, but we do not need to be reminded of Edward's appearance, the complete scenery, and above all, her constant complaining about Edward at the beginning.

Plus, Meyer's overuse of the word incredulous began grating on my senses, not to mention all the glaring, whining, cringing, grimacing, and her overwhelming need to append a "he said" or "she said" to almost every bit of dialog that transpired. (Surely, even truly young minds are able to keep up with the general flow of dialog). And let's not get started on the editing: You know the editor was asleep at the wheel, or either non-existent, when there's a glaring grammatical error within the first ten pages.

Bottom line: I would only recommend this book if you are like me and open to new mythologies on vampires and you can mostly tolerate the stupidity of Bella. Otherwise, I do not recommend this book.

Bruno: Movie Review

TITLE: Brüno

RELEASES: 2009

STARRING: Sacha Baron Cohen; Gustaf Hammarsten

RATED: R (Strong Sexual Content, Adult Situations, Language)

PLOT: Brüno is a gay Austrian fashion guru. He has his own fashion based television show, Funkyzeit, the most popular German-language show of its kind outside of Germany. After he disgraces himself in front of his Funkyzeit fan base, he is ruined in German speaking Europe. He decides that in his quest for worldwide fame, he will move to Los Angeles and reinvent himself. Accompanying him to the US is Lutz, his former assistant's assistant. Lutz is the only person left in his circle that still believes in Brüno's greatness. Brüno goes through one reinvention of himself after another, ultimately straying to areas far removed from his own self. Perhaps when Brüno finds an activity that he truly does love, he will also find that über-fame he so desperately desires.

RATING: */ ****



REVIEW: As I sat on my couch watching this, thing, I asked myself why was I watching this. Now that I have been thinking about, I believe the reason why is simple: I kept on praying that this film was going to get better. My prayers were never answered. THis film was, just bad. THis made Tommy Wiseau's THe Room look like M. Brando's THe Godfather. THe plot set up was OK. But it was too simular (FAR too simular) to that of Borat (a more tolerable film, thou not that much). The ending was predicable, the jokes were repulsive, and above all, I never wanted to die so much while watching a movie. I do not reconmend this film to anyone unless you have a mental issue, or you have a thing for grotesque comedy.

But I will admit that the only thing that is keeping me from giving this film a Zero rating is the fact that it does reviel the truth about AMerica being extremly homophobic. And me being a guy that is for gay rights, I am glad that this was touched. But I just hated how it was performed.

Angel Of Death: Movie Review

TITLE: ANGEL OF DEATH
RELEASE: 2009
STARRING: ZOE BELL, JAKE ABELL
RATED: NR (Strong Violence, Gore, Language, Drug usage)
PLOT:  Eve (Bell) is a sexy assassin who kills without remorse - until one botched hit changes everything. Caught off guard, Eve is stabbed in the head and inadvertently murders a young girl. The blade is removed, but the damage is done: Eve's mind is now filled with visions of past victims. The hunter becomes the haunted and this killing machine is plagued with remorse. Unable to "work," this mob asset has become a liability. Eve's only chance to survive is to track down her ruthless bosses before their new hitman finds her.
RATING: ***

REVIEW: While watching this entire film, I could not help but feel like I am watching an Asylum version of Kill Bill. Maybe it was because Zoe Bell was Uma THurman's stunt double for both segments. Maybe it was because of simular plot elements. Maybe it was because this movie had a Grindhouse-esque feel to it. In reality, it is all three. This being Zoe Bell's Second film, she does a very good job playing an assassin that is simular to that of The Bride from Kill Bill. When judging from this film to her performance in Gringhouse Preasents: Deth Proof were she played as herself, I must admit that this girl knows how to play roles. I do hope to see her in more movies in the future.
Jake Abell (known for being in Percy Jackson And The Olympians: The Lightning Thief) does a good job playing a mature role here as the main villian, but you can tell he was just trying to have fun with the role as much as possible. I will admit that it was fun seeing him slash around that razor blade of his as if he was Sweeney Todd. Which leads me to another point: his character in a few ways reminds me of Sweeney in the fact that he kills people with a shaving razor blade.
Overall, this is a pure Grindhouse film and as such, it does pretty well. The entire film was originaly a ten part minisode off the website Crackle.com, but has of now been released on DVD. I never watched the mini-sodes, just watched the entire film. I do reconmend this film if you love Grindhouse, Kill Bill, Death Proof, or just like seeing a bad ass woman killing people.

TRAILER


LINK TO ACTUALL FILM
http://www.crackle.com/c/Angel_of_Death_Movie/Angel_of_Death_Movie/2479948

The Tales Of Fleurs du Mal. Chapter Three.

The entire street started to scare Clive to no end, and this very rarely happens. But this was an exception for Fleurs du Mal was nowhere to be found. He frantically searched every person, looking for the beautiful Gothic angel that was suppose to meet him. As the giant clock above the Telegraph gave five dooming rings, his soul was starting to sink of rejection, depression, and over all humiliation over someone that was suppose to meet him here. This was pure torture. Giving up and ending all hope, hope, he decided to walk down the way she left early that morning. He wondered why would she do this to him, of all people? It was true that Fleurs did have a history of guys mistaking her, but could she in all actuality be the cause? It could be plausible that she done something similar to a fellow, then that same gent comes to her the next day to walk her home only in the nick of time to pull a fast one on her as revenge. But, he decided that it was not really worth his time to dwell over such terrible luck for it would only make him more depressed. Something that he defiantly did not need at this or any other moment of time.


When he walks home, one thing he liked to do was slowly navigate threw open sidewalks next to flower shops and inhale the wonderful aroma of the marvelously beautiful plants that only nature can create. And what a perfect time it was for he saw a beautiful black rose shining at the end of a long, old wooden table that was filled with plants being taken care of by an old man. He walked over to this particular black rose and stopped directly in front of it. Roses always had a thing to intrigued him, but black roses were the ones that completely robbed him of his heart. Maybe it was because black roses symbolize the transition between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Or maybe walking up to him now was the Flower of Evil herself.

As she walked, she looked more radiant and dark than earlier that day. She was now wearing black eyeliner, a more glamorous black dress that really made her curves stand out a little bit more, and overall gave her an entire new appearance. If it was not for her lovely recognizable face, Clive was sure that this was the wrong woman.

“I see my escort for tonight's lovely time has the tendency to spend his time gazing into the beauties of the flowers that surround him. In particularly my personal favorite: The wonderful black rose.” Fleurs said with a longingly glance at them all. She loved flowers, their designs intrigued her to no end and gave her the truth and utter fact that God does exist, for only he could create such wondrous creations.

“In all actuality, my lovely rose, I was thinking you stood me up and I was going to have to walk home all alone. But to my nice surprise, you did show up! You are but a few minutes, late which is purely forgivable, but if I may so strongly ask as to where you were and your occupation of this time that caused you to be so tardy?” He looked into her eyes and saw that threw her pupils, there was something of a secret that can never be reveled. So, he new that whatever it was was probably going to be a false denture, but he shalt not reveal his tongue.

“I was busy with some business. And, just to toss out there, my real occupation will come at a much later time but for now, I want to know the contents of tonight's festivities.” It took Clive a few minutes to think threw his mind until her found something.

“I think there is a theatre production that is beginning soon and if we make haste we shall catch it and enjoy the show that is “Heaven And Hell”.” Excitement flew over Fleur's wonderful face.

“You must know some of my secret desires for that play has been the royal of all. Now, lets make haste to appear there.” Grabbing each others hands, they walked quite a distance to the play house that sponsored such an extravagant production as Heaven And Hell. This ought to be an marvelous, extravagant, and emotional nightly sun in there lives.

The Tales Of Fleurs du Mal. Chapter Two.

He walked into the front foyer of the Telegraph, gazing around at his numerous coworkers whom he meets everyday on the hour. Some of the people passed him as if he was a ghost, but cared he not. Why should he? Anyway, he walked toward the main elevator and squeezed his way in bumping into people along the way. Once he was in, he saw that Lady Luck must have been on his side because the first stop was to his boss's office. In this newspaper publishing business, the head honcho was a strict, old man named Mr. Steven King. The only way he got his position as the top of all other boss's in their district when it came to running a Telegraph is because he had written a few novels that were big hits, but ended up not amounting to much. Still wanting to be in the business of writing, he got a job at the Telegraph and overtime, became the boss. What can you say? He knows great writing from shit.


Clive got off and walked to the receptionist, Ms. Roberts. She sat at this wooden desk punching keys into a computer. More than likely making appointments for Mr. King or trying to find a husband. Poor woman. She is old, single, and probably going to retire soon. It kind of broke Clive's heart that this is how she spent her life: being a slave to a old geezer like Steven King. She looked up from her faded gold spectacles toward him and released a heavy, tired sigh.

“Yes, Mr. Brown?” she asked, obviously annoyed by his presence.

“Yes Ms. Roberts. I am here to speak with Mr. King. Is he available? If not, please tell him It is Clive Brown with his next article for him to look over.” Ms. Roberts checked the schedule, trying to see if there was an opening. After a few minutes and a groan from her aching back, she got up.

“At this moment of time, Mr. King is in a meeting with some high tops from out of state. When he is done, I will drop your name by for him to check into. Until then, wait until either I or him calls for your service. Understand young man?” Clive nodded his head and turned on his heel to walk out. The first place he went to was the lounge to grab a cup of coffee. He needed a large one to get threw this day. As he went for a cup, he noticed one particular coworker that worked with him regularly.

“Hey, James.” Clive said to James Lewis as he walked toward Clive.

“Hola, Clive my boy.” He said as he put his arm around Clive's shoulders. “I am telling you, I am about to get out of this shit hole faster than you can fuck a duck!” If there was one thing Clive detest, it would have to be profanity. But not wanting to seem like a nagger, he just ignored it.

“Oh, really?” Clive responded after he finished pouring his cup of coffee and adding a few sugars and cremes. “And how my tubby friend did you do that?”

“By doing what everyone has the power to be but no one seems to realize: Become a living God. Now, I know what you are thinking: What does this lunatic mean? Well, when you write stories you are creating a world. You are creating characters and controlling their lives like how God controls our lives. Basically, I have been writing a story for a long mother fucking time and know I found someone that wants to publish it!” Obviously, James was happy. He threw his right fist into the air with excitement.

“Well, when you get out of here, send me a post card, will you?” Clive said as he left the lounge to go into the typing room. It was in this room that he felt the clearest. As he looked around, all he could hear was the sound of people smashing the keys of typewriters to create their articles to get publish in the Sunday newspaper. He found his desk as usual next to Dan Sox, writer for the sports section and Mathew Laurence, writer for the crimes section. When he sat down, he noticed Mathew turn towards him.

“Got those reviews done yet or are you going to try and punch them out in three seconds flat?” Mathew said as he punched out the last few sentences of the latest development in a recent prostitution case that has been going around. In this town, it was illegal to be a prostitute.

“No, but I am three seconds from smashing your face into your typewriter if you continue to ask about my workers. In fact, I just came back from Horror King's (Steven King's nickname) secretary who has gotten me in to see him in a little while to present my review on the latest Beethoven tribute concert a few nights ago, which, by the way was amazing, and the latest novel by Jimmy Pat and Annex Grain.” Clive had a smile on his face as he leaned back on his polyester office chair. All Mathew and Dan done was started laughing like morons.

“Dude, do you truly think King even cares for that stuff?” Dan asked while trying to remember to breathe. “No! He does not! He cares about things like the stock market, the latest crimes, and sports updates. THAT is what is going to sell papers! Do you wonder why you are very rarely published in any of the issues? Because you write about things that no one cares about! Why he even hired you is purely beyond me.” Clive wanted to beat Dan up so much, but then he remembered that he has a job, a house, bills to pay, so beating him up may come at a later time.

When the talk was over with, Clive began punching out his next review. Yes, it is true that his articles are not really that much noticed. But the reason why Clive tries so hard to become successful is because he had the keen instinct that sooner or later art forms like theater and novels will come back and when they do, he wants to be their to write the first major article and be the one to transcendent into the next years to come.

His new article was going to be this play he saw at an old, worn down theater called La Theatre Surpreme. The play was called “Death Forever” and it was about a loved one coming back out of death to be reunited with their dearly departed. He was half way threw his review when he got a call that the Mr. King wanted to see him.

“Wish me luck, Gents!” He said with excitement as he rushed straightening his jacket and tie as he flew into the elevator. He took a few seconds to get his breathe back as he went higher and higher into the realm of unknown. The reason why this was unknown is simply because if this did work out, he might be able to get a respectable job in this newspaper emporium.

The elevator hit the top floor very roughly, causing Clive to almost fall out and spill all over the floor. He looked up and saw Ms. Roberts extending her right hand toward the double doors that lead into the chamber room that housed Horror King. Taking a deep breathe and giving a rushed thank you to Ms. Roberts, he straightened himself as he pushed open the doors and interned the room.

The entire room was littered with paper, cigar smoke, the odor of beer, and books. By the desk was the old, graying man that was presumed to be Mr. King. And by the looks of it, he was chewing out some writer that must have written a very terrible article that did not in the slightest impress Mr. King.

“No, no, no, you useless mule! God Almighty, how many fucking times do I have to tell you? If you are going to do an interview, ask real ball-busting questions! This shit like: “Are you single?” or “Were do you see yourself in future years?”, now, this one almost made me shit my pants “How is your personal life?” is what is making this fucking newspaper company a fucking joke in the fucking eyes of all the other fucking newspaper companies! If you come back in here again with that worthless shit, then expect to loose your fucking job! Now, get the Hell out before I throw you out!” And with that, the young writer was so shaken that as he left, Clive could see a small tear falling off of his youthful face. This made Clive worry because if this is how strict and hard Mr. King was, then how was he ever going to get a better job here and probably make some heavy money? Money that he desperately needed? Any who, he took a deep breathe and walked foreword.

“Hello, Mr Steven King.” He said as he extended his arm to this man that was behind that desk. He looked at his hand and snorted a very disapproving grunted and motioned him to sit down. Clive was embarrassed, thinking why was it he done such a pathetic move. When he was finally seated, he started flipping threw his portfolio looking for his latest article. As he was in the mist of looking for it, he saw the chubby hand of Steven King arise.

“Look kid,” King said with a heavy sigh as he took a shot of Brandy that was on his desk. He always had a thing for alcohol. “I see things like you everyday thinking that they have a big shot chance of making it with some highly polish article. But as I told you before, I do not want a reviewer in my paper. What do you think that will amount to? Nothing! People read the newspaper for grisly deaths, the weather, and sports. If you want to voice your opinion, then get the hell out of my office and buy a soap box and preach from their.” Clive was starting to hate this man more and more. But he had to put his feelings aside and try his hardest to convince this man that he is worthy of being published.

“Mr. King,” Clive said with a heavy sigh. “Yes, I am perfectly and utterly aware of your beliefs and views of my art of writing that you strongly have pure faith in is, as I am positively sure you will agree to be worthless. But I do ask that you included one of my reviews into your paper and you please listen to my reasoning as I convince you that I need to be published. You see, in this day and age there are so many choice of books, plays, and arts that most people can not either make up their mind or tell between what is magnificent and what is worthless. Take for example two articles I have written: one for the play for “Death Forever” and “Heaven And Hell”. Now lets say that the plots of doomed love and battles of good and evil spark your intellect, but you have no knowledge as to which one is worth the pretty penny in your pocket. Then all you have to do is buy an issue of the Telegraph, flip to my section read my thoughts sense I am, if I so boldly can say so, an expert between good productions and slop, and then you know which is good. In this case, the play “Heaven And Hell” is the better because of the musical direction, the portrayal of the characters, and the vocal work of a small, powerful metallic voice of a man named Gesu. Now, while “Death Forever” was a good enough production, the acting was sloppy, the music was not at all fitting for the tone of the story, and the overall plot was extremely unoriginal. Now, you observe, if you were someone that did not know, you would read that and take my word for the better. And that goes with concerts and literature! With all of that clear in your mind, I urge you to accept my offer and work to be published in your magnificent magazine.” Clive was speechless. He had run out of breathe talking so much that he was craving either a cup of water or a sip of coffee. He looked into the face of the man whose future in this job rested soley in the hands of. Mr. King stood up, his back cracking so loudly that Clive was sure people outside would hear it as clear as a note on a flute. He walked around until he was beside him, resting his chubby hand on Clive's thin shoulder.

“Please, please follow me young man.” Clive stood up, straightening his tie as he walked with Mr. King. “You know, I was thinking: you did convince me!” Clive, excited, looked up and saw with a gleaming face the mug of a man who was just smiling, then started doing something Clive did not expect: he started laughing. “You convinced me to say this: Next time I see you, write some real news and stop writing this worthless fucking shit! Now get the fuck out of my face!” With that he picked up poor Clive by the back of his shirt and threw him out of the office.

Clive was in a state of shock and pure disappointment. He tried so hard to get approved to be a regular, and this was his result: failure. He needed that money so bad, but now could not figure out how or were he was going to get it. Taking a needed, nice deep breathe, he went and returned to his typewriter, awaiting the roar of disappointment he awaited. Mathew and Dan looked at him, but did not say a single word. They felt that it would not be in their right mind to make fun of someone who just had another hope and dream smashed by the chubby fist that was their boss.

“Here,” Mathew said handing Clive a ice cold bottle of water. “I take it you just felt the stinging sting of rejection from your boss? Well, do not worry about it. All of us here at one point or another felt that exact same pain. Just, do what he wants and then you will - “

“Then I will quit!” Clive yelled. “Why should I do what I do not want to do just to be a sell out? I would rather make little money doing something I find pleasurable than get paid to do something I find hellish to me and my views!” Clive chugged down that entire bottle of water and threw it against the wall. He extended his hand and Dan gave him another. It took some time that felt like centuries until he finally calmed down from his little out burst. He looked around and saw the worried faces of his coworkers, thinking about if he should apologize for that little stunt he performed.

“Clive, I think you need to take a little break. You have been working non stop for God knows how long and on your soul, it is driving a little insane. Look, it is Five o'clock. Go out and have some fun. Get some stress off of your well being.” Mathew and Dan both looked at each other and gave Clive some money only with the instruction he does something fun to night. But Clive already had something in store. Closing down and sealing up his belongings, he left his type writer and headed outside. Once he reached his destination, a little touch of worry over came him.

The Tales Of Fleurs du Mal. Chapter One.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat back against the couch, gazing into the midnight sky. With each and every sip of the smooth classic roast coffee, his mind was penetrated and overly flooded with various images of his beautiful Gothic angel. He missed her to no end. Missed almost everything about her. To him, she was dead. But the funny thing was, she was living and breathing. He loved her, treasured her, treated her like the angel she was. But life and love and be such a cruel game on humans who dare try and embrace it's horrific ways. As he looked towards the sky, he wondered were did he go wrong? Were did he screw up? He done everything correct, treated her nicely, acted like the perfect friend, but this entire finale was not what he had in mind. He closed his eyes and thought back to the first time they meet.




He was at a cafe as usual drinking a nice hot cup of Classic Roast coffee enjoying a very delectable book when his blue eyes feel upon the beauty that was her. She looked like a beautiful, lovely, gorgeous black rose dancing to life. She wore a complete black dress, her long silky black hair flowing down her back, and had this wonderful aroma to her. The scent of roses. He was instantly attracted to her and to her beauty. It was all so magical. She went and walked to a table across the area from him. As she sat down, he finally noticed her face. It was perfectly shaped as if she was made out of marble and an expert sculptor had come to sculpt such beautiful and perfect details.

It took him a couple of minutes but he finally found deep down the courage inside of him to gt up and walk to her. His heart was pounding in his chest as he drew nearer. When he was behind her, he took a deep breathe and said a very quick prayer then open his mouth to speak.

“Excuse me miss,” his voice was a bit shaken, but at least she turned around to see him. “I was wondering if you are in solitude here, I might be able to join you. If, of course, you do not mind.” She gave this very adorable smile.

“If and only if you can get me a cup of vanilla iced coffee.” Feeling around for change, he quickly ran up to the front counter and ordered one vanilla iced coffee. He rushed back presenting the beverage to her. She took a sip nodding a very satisfactory smile and motioned her arm towards the solemn chair across the small, round table across from her. He pulled out the wooden chair and sat down. With his heart pounding, he took a sip of the hot beverage as he gazed upon her, lost in translation of what to say.

“Sorry if I seem rude, but are you just going to goggle at me like a bird, or are you going to talk?” She gave a mini laugh. After clearing his throat, he began to speak.

“Excuse me, I just had to take a sip and figure out how to speak clearly again. You see, I come here often and very rarely do I find someone who looks so intriguing that I have to try and create a conversation with. The last time I talked to anyone was a rather long time ago. But, oh wait, I am terribly sorry, I completely forgot to give you my name. How foolish of me. My name is Clive Brown.” He extended his arm and she embraced it with a little laugh. “now if I am so bold as to ask the, what is your name?”

“For now until I get to know you better, you can call me Fleurs du Mal. It is French for Flowers of Evil. They call me that because I wear all black and black is suppose to be associated with evil and sin. I think that the color black is just underrated because of its bad reputation. I wear it because I am just attracted to the color. I see that you wear black too. What is your reason?” He looked down and saw that he too was wearing black. He was ashamed that he completely noticed that little fact. Why he was really ashamed? Because he found his cheeks growing hot.

“Um,” He said trying to quickly think of an answer. “I am a writer for the Telegraph and because I have to work in an office and all, I have to dress professionally. Now, why the color black? Well, I just really like the color and I can not get any coffee stains on them.” Then he stopped himself when he realized that he just told a complete stranger that he spills coffee on himself. She gave a little laugh covering her mouth with her hand as she done so. He just smiled relieving his teeth then just shutting up, drinking more of his coffee.

“When you do talk, I take you do not really talk to girls, do you” She said with a smile, resting her head on her hand. He looked up, noticing that her eyes were both really dark. Something he never really noticed that much when it comes to the subject of women.

“No. Not really.” said taking a deep breathe, feeling his face cool off. “Most of the women I meet are usually old and behind a counter trying to punch out paper work. Not really young, beautiful, and -” He stopped himself when he heard what he just said. He wondered why is it he was so stpuid as Fleurs just laugh to herself. He that blush he worked to get rid of came back and now he wanted to just crawl into a hole and never come out.

“Wow!” She said leaning back. “That is deferentially a first in my book! Just, wow. That is truly shocking sense I do not get that a lot. So, what are you expecting me to say: “Ah, that is so sweet.” or “I think you are cute.”? Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but I am not at all attracted to guys based on appearance or looks. But by what there intellect, emotions, and speech. And from what I can tell, you have some hidden intellect that I have yet to see. You try your hardest to keep your emotions inside but at time just like recently they explode, relieving to me that you think that more than likely I am a beautiful woman. And from your speech, you tend I believe to tremble when you see a women that satisfies your desire to gaze upon us women. Am I correct or am I wrong?” He just sat back, trying his hardest to keep his jaw from dropping. But he thought about what he was going to say then leaned over so she can hear him clearly.

“You think you're smart, affective. Because you think you figured out my game. Well, pride is a handy substitute, when you've got no one but yourself to blame. By that, I mean that you just told me a little about yourself, Fraulein du Mal. You told me that just based on first encounters, you judge people by what they appear at first with out giving that person some time to fully flesh out what and who they really are. Now, as to answer your question, you are drastically wrong. In reality, the reason why I came over here to sit with you and to have a conversation with is solely because you looked alone and I thought why not I become a gentleman and sit by a lovely, Gothic young lady and keep her entertained. But obviously if you see me for what you happen to, then I must sadly say Au Revior for then I must go.” He got up, picked up his book in which now he was a little upset that he could not get more into, and began to leave. That was until he felt a thin, soft hand grabbing his arm. He looked down and saw the Fleurs was the culprit.

“Please, do not leave. I apologize if I seemed very rude. But if you must leave, then please allow me to walk with you for it seems that you still want some company and to be frank, I would also be grateful for a companion to continue our conversation with, that is if you do not mind Mr. Brown.” After thinking of shoving her off, he thought the better of himself and told her to come along.

Once outside, there was an instant relief over him. He loved the smell of nature, or what is left of nature in this steel and concrete forest he lived in, when he can find and get it. He loved it even more when a beautiful lady was with him.

“So, do you have a car or something to get you home or do you, like me, walk everywhere?” She gazed across the parking lot of the Cafe, then turned to him.

“I do not own nor do I really have any intentions of possessing a automobile, thank you very much. Look, if you do not require or even desire my companionship, then I will be on my merry way.” She was about to leave until he grabbed her arm gently with just a little force.

“It is not that,” He said with a gentle tone. “It is just that if you had a car, I was going to walk you to it sense I have quiet a long way to travel. I hope I did not offend you.” She just had a little smile on her face.

“You did not offend me my dear sir, I just merely thought it was a little bit of a one ditch effort to get rid of me. You are not the first man to sit by me in a public place and strike up a conversation with nor do I ever think that you will be the last. It is just that, my guys invite me to walk with them to there next destination only for me to discover that they only had the intentions for me to be walked to my vehicle and that was it. SO, when you asked me if I had one (a car), I was taken a little aback sense you are very much not at all like most guys. You are a lot politer than most. Also, if I have the right to say so myself, I do believe that we ought to get a better pace to were you are meant to be. Which, now that I am thinking about it, where are you meant to be, may I ask?” She turned around and had a bit of a goofy smile upon her face. Clive could not help but smile a little too. It was not everyday that he met someone of this enjoyment.

“Um, I am going to the Telegraph which is, as I am absolutely assure you are aware of, is bit far away. Which was the real reason why I asked about you having a car. Because if you did, I was going to offer to drive to my workplace so I can save the walk. But you are absolutely right, we ought to get a move on.” He lowered his hand into hers and they both turned and walked away from the cafe and onto the road.

As they walked, Clive noticed that Fleurs had a knack at observing flowers, plants, even once in a while cloths. He was impressed when she was able to identify such little things about the scenery like the age of some buildings by just their formation, taken into consideration of the terrifying gargoyles, and also the smell of the wonderful pastries whose aromas filled the air.

“You really enjoy the complex simpleness in life, do you?” He asked her as they continued their path.

“Yes I do.” She said with a strong confident voice. “I take them into consideration because no one in this time and century cares to do so. Look all around you! Who says you need objects like vehicles, televisions, or even a lot of money to be happy? Well, I say that if you feel like you need them, then you should try opening your eyes a little bit wider and try to take into account all that is around you. Like the smell of flowers, the intriguing designs of a spider's web, the sight of beautiful birds, little things like that that you just can not see on TV. Little things that require seeing them in person.”

“Well, well, well, looks like you are against technology then. Am I right or just trying to sound like I know you?” He said with a sly smile.

“You sound like you think you know. But silly boy, you still sadly do not understand me at all. Well, then again what do you expect? We just meet. But to truly understand me, then I suggest we spend some more time together so that way I can try and gain a trust in you so I can reviel my self to you. But for now, I am just going to play secretive and have you guess.”
“Then I won't Guess. If I know that there is an extremely high chance that I am going to be wrong when playing a guessing game with you, then there is no point in me trying to guess. I understand one of the reasons why you told me that but I will admit now that I never really hide anything from anyone. If you want to know anything about me then just ask away!” She just looked at him.

“Fine, if I can ask anything about you how about this: How long is your penis?” He busted out laughing like a maniac. Some people turned their faces and stalked him as they moved along.

“Sorry to burst your bubble but that is solely for my wife to know if I ever get one. One thing that I do doubt I will ever have the luxury to ever experience. Now, I must say good bye sense I am as of now at my place of work.” They both look at the Telegraph building. Fleurs looking sad that they could not continue speaking.

“So, I guess this really is good bye, is it?” She sounded a little bit disappointed

“Not really, I mean, you can come after I get done working and we can have dinner or go to the theatre house and get to talk a little bit and try to, as you so clearly stated, gain each others trust a little bit more. I get off at five o'clock. Well, your opinion?” She smiled, looked around, then cleared her voice.

“I will see you at five o'clock. See you then.” She gave him a little cute wink and walked away. Clive's heart was beating fast with blood, as with most hearts, as she walked away. He never fallen in love nor does he ever truly believe in love, but now he was starting to think that love could exist and thought that he just found it.