SHUTTER ISLAND FAN FIC

"I don't know how to get a gun out of my holster because I am a terrible liar."

Later that evening he went missing. On the floor only his jacket remained. It lie there still. Letting out only a quiet burp.

It would eat again. But not tomorrow. Tomorrow is Friday and Friday is Taco night on Shutter Island.

The Player FanFic

There's blood in the water. It's like a cloud is bleeding.
"Only thing that could come from this is a crop of Audrey II's," said the tough detective. When the cops in earshot asked what he meant by that he explained that Audrey II was the man-eating plant in "Little Shop of Horrors." And though it cleared that up, there was still the body blocking the sewer drain.
"Gonna be a long night" the cops said to each other as they left the detective crouching by the body, tweezers in hand.
"Gonna be as long as the sun doesn't come up" said the detective, pinching off a flake of garlic from what used to be the body's nose. He stands up in a start and shouts,"Come on! Take in this scene before it turns to dust, it's nearly half-past five!"
He walks away stopping to throw in, "You'll be dusting for fingerprints and gettin' only finger."

Police headquarters is busy, even in the morning. Especially in the morning. In this town. New York may be the city that never sleeps and New Orleans may be the city that actually never sleeps, but Hollywood is where vampires eat on the people trying to sleep. The detective slams his door, his name painted on the glass dares itself not to crack. "Detective DeLongpre".

Test results come back on the garlic, it's imported and only one store sells it. Detective DeLongpre drives to Encino where it's sold illegally from an eccentric producer's live-in gardener's basement. Under questioning the gardener says that he sells it only to one man, a writer.
"Writers," Detective DeLongpre says.
"I know," agrees the gardener.

Detective DeLongpre drives to this writer's house. Knocks. The door creaks open. He walks up to a man with his back to him, trimming some plants.
Detective DeLongpre thinks about what he could say to catch this man off-guard and gain some traction at the same time.
"You're a regular Seymour Krelborn," he says.
"Little Shop of Horrors, good one..," the writer nods.
"Detective DeLongpre," answers Detective DeLongpre.
The writer is not a tough man, not when he's dealing with humans at least. He admits to killing the vampire, proud of it even. Another case goes black for Detective DeLongpre.

Avatar FanFic

It starts with him opening his eyes in the blue light of the space ship. It always starts this way. He scratches his three stroke scar and reaches for the door's release.
"I forgot something , we're going back." said General Knife Grabber.
The Marines that work for the company turn and look at him. All of them not saying, "did he die on Pandora?" None of them admitting, "I honestly forget, but I think he did."
"Shut up!" General Knife Grabber says to the silence. "Maybe I'm a clone or a twin or something. Like a Twix bar. Just give me a break!"
General Knife Grabber struts down the corridor and kicks down the door to Giovanni Ribisi who is busy slam dunking rolled up paper basketballs.
"I'm sorry I don't know your name."
"I'm sorry I don't know your name either."
"Unobtainium."
"Unobtainium."
The two are bonded. Bonded like a banshee to a Na'vi.

Meanwhile, on Pandora Jakesul Ly and Matisyahu rule as King and Queen. Jakesul hides his shame for killing Matisyahu's betrothed during a freak attack-the-oppressing-corporates accident. One day he thinks he'll tell her.
"GREAT SHIT!"
She plugged into his braid. She knows everything now. She doesn't even say 'I see you' and walks away.
LAND, the big ship does and all the Na'vi surround it. The sound of taught bow string is so dense that were a supernatural white glowy milkweed seed to land on one, the pluck of grand piano would result. Unfortunately, the arrows do nothing to stop the ship from landing on red-painted Na'vi who were visiting from out of town. The door opens and General Knife Grabber comes out, gas mask equipped.
"I'm sorry, I seem to have forgot something! Like a pack of Nerds or something."
Jakesul approaches him, cool, confident.
"Look around, take it, and leave."
"You don't understand me," General Knife Grabber suggests, "When I said 'a pack of Nerds' that was a metaphor."
General Knife Grabber grabs Jakesul's neck in a headlock.
"Now listen here, Marine, what are you doing? Your body isn't going to last like this! The Avatar bodies are like a really expensive jacket, but if you notice, sometimes really expensive stuff falls apart faster than cheap stuff. Like a Jawbreaker is pretty cheap, but that'll last longer than a Godiva..."
"A Jawbreaker?"
"You know from the 20th Century?"
"No."
"Okay, then like Jujubes."
"Oh, yea, Jujubes, I love those."
"Well it's like that so come back with us! I can get you some human legs too."
"I forgot about those."
Jakesul looks to Matisyahu. She's not there.
Jakesul and General Knife Grabber have a brief back and forth on whether or not the Tree could keep fixing his expensive body and eventually night falls. General Knife Grabber retires to his chambers to find the entire crew murdered. He yells and Jakesul runs on board. In the horror of the situation they turn to see the ship's door closing and an odd shape blocking the way out.
It's Matisyahu holding a knife to the sleeping human body of Jake Sully.
"You are stupid."
She kills off the human body and the blue one faints. General Knife Grabber gives up and runs outside to be taken by the teeth of the giant dinosaur banshee. Matisyahu returns to her tree house and plays Egyptian Ratscrew with the Tree-healed Michelle Rodriguez when suddenly six banshees crash into their roof. The baddest banshee is ridden by Dominic Toretto, he detaches his braid.
"Come on, Letty, I hear there's a killer ridge on the floating mountains."
They all fly away. Fastly and with furiousness.

One Word Review™

2012: Meta

Where the Wild Things Are FanFic

At 21 years old, Max pinned a tail to his suit and sailed out towards the island. When he climbed up the shore he found the path to the forest that he remembered by sense of smell alone as now much of the trees that marked it when he was 9 have now been returned to dust. Beyond what was the fort was now a hilltop. It was not there before and seemed to be built as if to hold something secret in its belly. On top was a creature of a mass hugging a round stone. Carol looked up and saw Max and Max saw that on the stone was written "K.W." in a heart. Carol fixed his yellow eyes on Max and said "today's my birthday."
Max led Carol down past the fort and beyond the dusty forest and to the shore that held his boat. Max lifted up the sail and brought out a great chocolate frosted cake.
"It's mine too," said Max and they carried the cake up the hill to the round stone. Great sounds came toward them and Douglas and Ira and Janet and Alexander and The Bull made their way up the tomb.
Carol sat back and put his hand on the stone, unable to look at the wild things.
"Here, have some," offered Max, lifting up the cake and drawing back the attention of Carol's great yellow eyes.
"Yes, have some," agreed Carol, "it's still hot."
And they roared and howled and had cake.
Then the sun came and Max left knowing that Carol was with all his teeth now.

The National Parks: America's Best Idea FanFic

"I felt their youth pulsate through the trees. I never will shoot a wolf in clear conscience whether in field or valley." - George Morgil
"For all the virtue that George Morgil wrote about, there was little known about the man who many considered the 'great grandfather' of the National Parks." - Harriet Beacher, Chief Groundsperson of Yosemite National Park.
George Morgil was found hung over a cavern three days after the park opened to the public. His body, devoured by the wolves he so often wrote about, was discovered by Teddy Roosevelt's personal secretary and friend, Rodger Helmsmith.
"It was a cool evening, I had just commenced a stroll with my son when we saw his body."
-Rodger Helmsmith.
"Dad, there's a ghost in that cave!" - Rodger Helmsmith Jr.
"That is no hovering apparition, but a human no longer tethered to this mortal coil but instead to a redwood tree over a wolf cavern. Stop crying. That man is George Morgil." - Rodger Helmsmith.
With his son's hysterics put to bed by means of a chloroformed handkerchief, Rodger Helmsmith extracted what were perhaps the final thoughts of George Morgil by means of a note deeply wedged in his throat.
"There is nothing more democratic than the magnificent beauty unmarred by man in his foolish pleasures. The wolf pack knows not of any sculpture or poetry, yet they add more to the landscape than any farmer or patriot. If by chance they eat of my flesh, let me run in them. If they by chance eat of my True self, let me impregnate them so that I may run with their cubs and their grandcubs alike and in stride. Let the children of this great land come to visit these grounds and look upon my children with a sense of equality. And if they hunger, let my wolf pack feed on them and make love to their bodies. Let the howling of the coyote seem dim in the light of the moans of my wolves. Let no great bald eagle fly where my wolves do not den. This is what is possible for I want of nothing less." - George Morgil.
The nation was reborn and in the wake of Morgilian thought and preservation, caravans of station-wagons reconnected with the country's past and ever-present future.

Coco B.C. fanfic

Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel ran quickly down the cobbled steps of her lover's apartment house and slipped on the rain-slicked street.
"Merde!" she said.
A foreigner passerby believed that she said "murder" and ran up the steps and into her Italian lover's hallway. The lover explained the misunderstanding and it was settled. That foreigner felt embarrassed and left a small drawing, signing it: "Pablo, Pablo Picasso." The lover showed it to Gabrielle and she was transfixed by the Spaniard's strange use of form.
Gabrielle picked herself up and continued running down the street as if her accident was a tenured teacher in nihilism. She had to get to the garment district before the boutique opened for the Monday morning rush. They were having a great sale.
She opened shop and stood behind the counter as people came throughout the day to try on wares of the current fashions and highest thread counts. Egyptian cotton was on everyone's must have lists. All around France, things from the middle-east were flying off the hangers - "even the planes" as the joke goes. She stared blankly at a German foreigner who kept responding to her sales pitch with "nein yards." Gabrielle realized what was happening after the third time and politely smiled at the German and moved on to another customer. The German, embarrassed for speaking a combination of German and English in France left the store but not before leaving a note for Gabrielle that read: "Dear Lady, sorry for the inconvenience. Here are 15 francs for the translator of this letter. Sincerely, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe."
Upon reading the letter, Gabrielle looked up to see her lover being taken away by interpol. His hands in interlocking cuffs looked like two letter "c's." She blurred her eyes and put on her "Piscasso filter" -as she came to call it- and saw that not only did they look like two "c's" but it looked like "Coco." Giacomo Casanova was then extradited to the Doge's Palace in Venice and lived out his days with a pet pig.
Coco, as her nametag now read, asked her boss if she could do some work for the boutique and she went on to make two popular quilted bags and five wonderful perfumes. When the boutique owner, Louis-Françious Cartier, moved on to watches and jewelry - not to mention spend time with his son Alfred and grandsons Louis, Pierre, and Jacques - he left the store to Coco. She named it Chanel. Then word came that things were now Anno Domini.