(Slow ride on the usual eerie shot of Rod Sterling, in color this time it was with this crazy know-it-all smirk on his face.)
... what happens when someone crosses the line into the reality of its wildest dreams, only to find that the end is closer to them than they think? Picture if you will, a woman who just wants to live life to its fullest, will eventually be strengthened in elegant ... the Eventide Zone.
A MOST GENRE NE OFFER
As if she knewI was there, hugging the white park bench, both me and the snow. I slowly stretched, yawning, taking a salary assessment of my surroundings. Covered in newspapers and crinkled floated me banal, as if suddenly all was well, I just got up, brushed my face as the snow. Why was the park bench knows? It seemed strange.
I stood, and had a touch of my former disability involved to the left. Had discovered Patting my head with the palm of my hand, I my handicapmore relaxed, it was a nice feeling, and I heard a woman screaming, to my immediate right. It echoed around whining in my head like a narcissistic false ecstasy.
Dancing in the general direction, I found tragic spectrum of a winter scene. There were four young men. Three of them stood on a side to my right, and the dude to my left was clearly the market leader. ... He had quite a long menacing looking knife in his hand, and threatened, "the girl" with him. She wasJust standing there, laughing, held in his arms. The leader began throwing a knife from one hand to the other ever so slightly. I watched, fascinated, and saw clearly, as I rather enjoyed the sight deceived - to them.
She laughed merrily, lines of drug use was the cover on his arms and grab the strawberries' like crazy. That is, they enjoy their last moments. Guy wanted to slice and dice it. I thought, hey turn, it's my. I am, after all, Marsha Lart!I do not hate all this ripping? Maybe I should not ... what is - worried? Is it not what Christmas is about, I thought squeamish?
So I grabbed his left arm, fast-twitch it away from there and danced the unexpected. I moved to the right took place, as "the girl" as Laughing Boy behind me, just me in his big ol 'arms. But he shook with laughter, determined what would happen next.
Everyone seemed to be a great old time, and most of their sickEmotions escaped me entirely. I was sober, and they were filled with water, alcohol and crystal meth. I stood there, smiled and said, "You look like a great leader, Guy. Tell me, what is it?"
"Huh?" he said, his male self suddenly alerted to the presence of a wise gal He stood quite still, always tired, evaluate its drug itself, to change the situation. The perfect moment made Japanese-style karate buddy him. You see, I really did not know what knifeare.
That was unexpected. The knife flew, I pulled my right arm, the man stopped me at the same time, swaying to the moment, as I turned too sharp, and I was from there.
I pulled, ran like the wind, but knew I wanted to run out of it. Like a character in a film, I tried to enjoy the time of my demise, while on the run. I had grabbed the final strawberry, as she had told me to do in karate class. I wondered why she was willing to die. Iif only unconsciously, forever ... was what my husband wanted, one had to hurt me? No, he was also very dying for me.
Unfortunately, I was now headed by a weird angled down city streets. Curious and a bit in my schedule, I began to lose "running ability," as I bent with his right hand into a dead end ally. I was slipping on the snow, and was safely on the way to my downfall. I slid into the alley and saw the end of the road - andDeath.
Tears streamed down my cheeks and freeze immediately froze. Wheeling Around, I packed two frost-covered trash can lids, were the help. I thought maybe I could distract the bat, I could at least raise these matters. She weighed about as much as foam. I lifted Flotsam and Jetsam, she swung at the oncoming pack of boys. She definitely had all their big knives out now.
I have no role. Somehow the girl. I would at least die. fight
Then something just fell out of the cold and darkness, isolated himself and beat their leader. I could say it was a bad thing but a good thing, it was so rushed down and plowing through and stinging their faces like a sledgehammer into a number of leading nowhere at once.
The trash can lid, such as disappointed, dropped to my sides. For something fascinating had been on. I made a short time of operation dustbin lid in front of me, as I believe theirCold sink grasp my finger. It was what it seemed to be a ninja of no substance, and it took the three others one at a time when she saw, deprived of their easy victory.
Since the moving shadow of a sudden took the form of a very large man. "Jesse Jackson is not? Dead, the Bruce Lee? ... No, Vlad Tepes," I muttered under my breath, angry with reference to Comte Dracula, the Muslim rulers who had killed the 700 Christians of the 700 Club. JimCrow? "Was that a racist character, with which to frighten superstitious blacks?" Nah, I thought, honestly, my God, from an even older Italy ... " Pierrot -? "A doll that dark, a black with long horns on its head, and yet somehow it was. And finally, I thought I beat this thing somehow of a medieval Jewish knight.
But that was not what was Pierrot, but so completely. Out of nowhere, I was Smack Dab in the middle of the Commedia del'Arte, the centuries-old farceAntics of the clown and the serious people. It was the old, Mediterranean Sea, and mystical. What could I do from the serious man?
Pierrot was white, beautiful, and gave a head of straight black hair. He had the curly hair of the Madcap Harlequin Clown for Columbine, the beautiful, is sometimes disputed, and then hung himself because of the loss of his "wife." It was the woman he wanted to marry. That the Italian "del'Arte" thing was, I remembered it vaguely from my dreams. Itdawned on me that black, masked and still hard to see picture has indeed ... Pierrot.
"No," said this deeply masculine, but vague, boyish-sounding voice: "I am." I thought: I can not believe how much I feel at this moment. I'm disappointed. I have lost the fight. It would have taken less time if I had been killed. What does that mean? I had risked my life to save another's - for what? For this?
How underrated. The snow was blowing about in the street,Eddy draped around his suit, the gray and blue-black color of Bateman, but a comic book and movie character.
"Who are you, what do you think you're doing?" was told me in the deep, bell-like tone of a carefully measured actual someone is trying to reach an actual someone else. I gulped and grabbed my knowledge neck. I did something very strange to tell him, as if it now grabbed my brain and I knew what it was well in advance.
He stoodthere, thinking. I ordered both trash can lid with a loud noise as "one of them" took off running and made it elsewhere. Must have been a bystander. The other three boys were flattened. I reached a wise gal look on my face and shrugged his shoulders. My husband was a great Semitic Jews, not practicing, which I always looked very much like the fool. I had always thought that it is a coincidence. Now I had to stop and ask ... could it be? He had told me that although a Jew, he hatedall the Hebrew people. He was kind of against it.
The Jester ... absolutely must Harlequin, The Harlequinade. Nothing, nothing and nobody else. The Madcap clown himself.
But now, Bateman wanted me arrested or something.
And had the fool simply sniffed all along of being Harlequin. The many colors of his costume is clearly demonstrated. The comic character of old, which certainly would now take revenge against me by such a ridiculousProxy, as this - The Bateman.
Vengeance-again? Harlequin had won so many times on the Harlequinade. He had made fun of the police, and he had almost pulled the rope that had hung the Pierrot as the serious man was finally Suicided ... Columbine to lose him.
If ever began to happen that can, or if "Bateman" There is still moving. Cold snow whirled over us both as he stood patiently watching me. A final clatter of noise appeared in the background hum, as if someCars were in the vicinity.
I thought so squeamish about this. The Jester had begun as a "dirty" Jews in Detective, had in the first panel of the first comic strip he appeared, December 1940. Harlequin had lost his fight in the subsequent agony of Harlequinade, so long ago. He was not "pure" is. Racism had drawn his own old threads, one way or another. Harlequin was either too boring or too poor, and had therefore found Detectivetheir victim, someone to ridicule, as a villain appears. Casting him as a Jewish miser was fairly typical of their sometimes bleak style. To deny a clown with a vampire, for the children to buy "all in color for a dime" funny books. Bateman was only the Suprememan ripoff, a detective, like a superhero. I remembered it.
My husband, either on the same side or the other was not at all heroic. He was a curly black hair, a clown. He had until now been my friends and toLaughter riding companion for many years, and we had practiced the martial arts together. But I've told you about him. He was not ... nice.
But Bateman, or whoever he was, remained motionless, with the cloak around him like a giant black-wrapper. Then he shrugged him with one arm. He stood still, as if my assessment. I wondered briefly whether I am good looking at all "The Bateman." For some reason, was, I wore a shirt with short sleeves andShorts that do not help much in the cold.
"You want to tell me what is your role in this," Brice Wayne whispered in my ear away from moving too far. Something told me that this man was somehow named that volatile memories and impulses. I used to have tons of silly comic books to read while they grow up. And in fact, I had shown that "cop is" fighting force and had to do with him - while at the same time trying to figure out what to say... this man.
"Yes, you're right, Brice," I muttered, "good old martial art store just me. Self-defense." I had to sink down to the status of Columbine in my innocence. She was, I believe the innocent ingénue of the old Italian farce. "Finally, it is always self-defense, is not it?
"What are you doing here?" stated in this quizzical Italianesque voice that envelops my soul wounded deep baritone with traditional overtones toCop It would kill me, his voice implied, if I so much as moved.
"Is the Gothic City?" I wincingly I asked him. I realized that who he was, he could kill very quickly.
"You know where you are not you?" he asked me back. It sounded like he pumps me for information. Maybe he did not know me at all. It sounded like an order referred only to an early grave.
If that Bateman, where I was, what was that to me? Who was I ...? Truly, no, I was notColumbine! That was just the Columbine High School, where something terrible had happened, too. The black-suited Bateman as children who had shot some of the other children at a secondary school. I could not see Bateman. I dreamed, but everything was real. And I had the feeling that my hair was gone again, dyed a bright and cherry red, as if I was a teenager.
Go, "Get on my back, and until we do. On board now." What? I thought how strange fantasies go, this should quickly disappear book.Maybe if I close my eyes, everything would be gone. But I had to open it and go there, and beside him. It was like a command to a very serious man, and I was forced to obey completely.
I went behind him and came on the back. We were on our way to the building at a rapid pace, and I barely had time to clutch his broad shoulders like Damned Jock went straight to Wall Street. I saw the technical equipment, trembled, and grew bleak. Finally, I had to say it.
"IsHarlequin really my husband? "I screamed out loud when we have succeeded and flopped over like bricks, bounce my knees without too much pain to the rubbery roof of the building. That Giant Sucking" Muslim "or Musselman, the former childhood hero, and God was there and looked at me as if I had something that was vaguely amusing were. I do not weigh so much, I thought, as he took me to a certain advantage over metal pipes. I felt very embarrassed and ashamed.
"No, buthe's probably just your basic hilarious Jewish "Sidekick". I have to meet several of these. Remember, Jerry Lewis? Actually, he was the most important man, and Dean Martin was the mate. Have you ever seen their movies? I never had the time to enjoy ... "Before he could finish, I cut him short.
"Take care of my girl, Woman Hater," I muttered, as he tied me to the old gray pipe sticking out of a slab of concrete, probably something worth studying, when I went there to standfor a while. I thought the girl I had previously saved from this brief comment. She was sure about out there somewhere.
"So, what are you, a woman-hater?" was laughing when he was only handcuffed to his seat. They were loose, and I was suddenly on a long leash. How long I would stand there, I did not know enough to find time to say something about this overdressed wombat or whatever it was calm, made me leave. "Oh, and Satan, then would you go lookingfor my ... Girl? "- He was gone.
I knew why he had done so, dass He was looking for her. Perhaps she needed more help. Certainly it was. She was walking in the cold.
I thought maybe he is right, I tied up. I would not have stood there forever. Perhaps I should have jumped up, just to see if I could fly. Perhaps Bateman knew what I was! Cold, tired and a little too well. Where was my old and trusted disability if?
I looked around, and seemed the placeto materialize in front of me, as if it were a suburb of New York City, which was untrammeled by its skyscrapers hectares. Coated white all about me, this is my blinking eyes could hold, pointed roofs and tilted so that I could measure everything only for a short distance. I sighted along the minaretted roofs of a lustrous silver-gray surroundings.
But stretched several monumental buildings in a sprawling greyly, distribution group, overwhelming pain in their severity and robust far away,press into my new awareness of reverent wonder. These include city - incredibly - maintained over many dozen and more of them. There were the usual NYC-style tower shining shapes of rectangles, but occupy a much larger urban area. The whole vast spread of a city could only be described as infinitely large, massive, spreading as my eyes could see. And I suddenly realized none of it was blurry. I could see without glasses.
I thoughtpossibly everything I had ever seen, the Gothic, from this low and relatively flat roof already overcrowded, and the role of the "city" was I?
It looked like a circle, almost carefully laid out, but with the usual problems of some sudden leaps, granular structures, which inhabits view of the huge room. It was a city, but like no other I ever seen in my thirty five years of life. It struck me that a younger me would die, discover a city like this. I would be comfortable meeting place for theirsmall shops, read the newspapers, and drink their delicious coffee.
The view! As it slowly appeared, it was a huge monolithic color. Sounds of beeping cars and buses pulls up to curb grinding adorned my ears. This WAS Gothic City. Golden green, blue, silver, red, purple, champagne was the sparkling lights of the distance between us. Astonished, I strongly yearned for the sky, was clearly out there head. How was the night for the Bateman? TheGabriel's Trumpet city needs to give it known.
I could finally see everything in color for a dime. Gothic City, lived and breathed to me, although I thought attacked over drug abuse had, ladies of the evening, and cheap hotel room. And I knew I was too old for her. I took a deep breath, and all of the pollution was mysteriously missing. And yet I have smelled a gay airy air all about me. Were there any out there examined blood samples? Has something of the black race have a chanceagainst the supposedly chosen people? The group had fought, I would have been as white trash as I had ever seen. Certainly there were heroes to black, brown, with strange wonder ... I imagine that this dream which I have here, I thought.
What in the world such a juxtaposition mean? How could drug abuse in such a situation like this? Sure, there were not enough jobs available. The city too busy, hard beauty that she was. There was crime in this case a queen. Perhaps Metropolis, whereKing, distributed not have enough resources around them. Perhaps NYC, the Jack somewhere in the area ... I accidentally lost in the speculation. What was the fool to do with such a very strange card game.
I would definitely be "fixed" by someone. Yes, I was real, but most of my disability was gone, and I turned on the right side was so much better about myself and I hope that watching Suprememan or Supremegirl. Frown, I knew it had one of the two who had done it, and made mein this way.
That, I laughed, I'll wake up from this fast enough, suddenly does not exist at the girl and her life, he is here trying out there, they hunt, and she is a "druggie" who thinks she's fine .
Perhaps it is Columbine's, I gasped! What was her name? He speaks to her, I thought to myself, and I "is jealous," having a decent go at trying to help her. But maybe they always had a rotten life. Probably he was not against them. Most police officers do notreally do. You try to help. But he could have on his back in a cheap motel somewhere. I hated him.
Anyway, maybe he has her home. Maybe I was just ... Pierrette. She was the least important figure in the old Italian mystery. It should get married ... "Pierrot that's right, and they did not. They just slid behind the scenes. Whether they hang at the end too? I was quite hung up on the handcuffs. I looked at the edge of the roof of the building, yearning to go about it anddie. Columbine had danced off a cliff, and I completely forget what happened to Pierrette.
It was so cold. I started out my legs move back and forth to keep myself warm. "Would Bateman" ever return? Even the thought of it made me sick. Sure, this is a new kind of policeman who had learned the martial arts, all disguised as Bateman. I was in New York City is still, and that was only a dream.
Some dream. I took a deep breath, sighed, looked at Gothic City. Might be worth exploring. Couldbe like NYC wildest of my dreams. I giggled and suddenly my own hand clamped over her mouth.
Then "the look" is happening. He looked slightly tired as he climbed over the roof. He walked up to me as if something went through my head. Or Mind? Let's see, these guys are referring more advanced forms of life than I am, a bit like the X-Men by Marvel, but more slowly or something, and human enough. Or, he is just some silly bastard of a cop. I showed him what I bythis is with deep fatigue on my face.
What I had thought, I grabbed me and cried inwardly, no, not the Bateman! I collect my soul and turned him to say. Now.
"Brice, I know who you are," I choked in my palm. All the knowledge I had of him, spilling out of my mouth, spit on my ability to understand. I'd say it, there was nothing else to say. Maybe if I played along with the farce, "Bateman admitted" would be hisFalsity.
"Okay," said the same voice that sounds totally tired. "What are you doing here ... no, come home with me, and ... I'll show you where I live ... right now." I remembered that Bateman is not necessarily a lot of sleep at night.
Okay, I thought. And I told him what I thought about my whole life story, as we rushed through the enormity, the Gothic town was up to the car. It was stormy, and too long to describe here, but scared me a littleless.
"You have to be used with soaring. Swoop and snatch. I mean, do you want Suprememan you! They are not all unacceptable to me who I am, is certainly imagine this. Not!" He is disguised as an enemy, I thought, slowly, over the period of time.
"No, it is not. Are not I Get. In the car, vagabond. And do exactly what I say." Who knows what he did, to my knowledge of his identity. Probably wants me to stay at home all day. What we do whileI'm trying to remain faithful to my husband?
But there was something terribly wrong, my husband was sweet as a rule, which undoubtedly ugly - I could not remember doing.
It seemed to have in a drab blur to do with my husband breaking my sternum, ripped my chest open, and cries tearing my soul .... There was injured. It had been a lot of pain and blood everywhere. Then I'd fainted.
"" Nkay: "I blurredly intoned as he opened the car door. I was shakingRiding on the legs of the nature and the wind. It had taken some time, and it was dark outside. I stared at the car, which looked pristinely black, but threatening.
He nodded, while carefully on my head, and he unabashedly ducked my whole body up into the vehicle. I sat there and waited, as he climbed artistically, the old familiar moving shadows, into his own side. "Whatever you do, do not turn to me, uh, she," I said suddenly. "TheJLA. "
"What the Justice Legion of America?" Who were they, I thought this group of superheroes with their own Earth-Centered satellites, of which Bateman was supposed to be a member - or something like the B'nai Brith or the Italian Anti-Defamation Legion? Strangers in suits who fought for civil rights? Or was the Justice Legion of America, only the Klu Klux Klan, as my friend from Mexico, had previously told me?
Meanwhile, I was racist with the same cartoon character.Where to now?
"No problem. We go to my apartment, and we go for it now. They are safest at home o-hearted female. You know too much. They must remain seated while I figure what to do with you. "
The car shot quickly, and we were out of this dark alley for all systems in the vehicle had closed - followed too quickly for me.
I leaned back, wavering at all. "Tell me why we are moving so fast andslightly. "
"Could Suprememan" intones the voice of Bateman, "But this incredible journey is associated primarily with you, from me, a lot of technical equipment including ozone positors that you can not possibly understand, and my need to fill ... not so far. "Long pause. "As yet."
"Understood," I whispered ramblingly and looked around. We were pretty fast on the highway, honking in exactly one fan driver. I suspected the guy wasjust to say hello. The Batemobile properly strutted her own purring quiet, nonchalant maneuvering into place, as if defined lines and angles were all around, guiding and lighting the path. The snow was bright, traversed by the side windows, without affecting it, and melted in an instant.
The same great views, Gothic City, was still out there. Now it was beginning to "gem", or perfectly with the many bright lights late at night, reminded meonce that I used in San Francisco at night. It was so beautiful.
"I finally broke down and she thought, 'I said, to measure his telepathy. I waited casually. Nothing." I mean the car. No, that girl. "What happened, what has it left on? A hideous parking garage?"
That is, if the pigeon Batemobile suddenly downward into a midnight blue underground, after I beat a quick straight from the highway. We were in a closed space, deepSubway. The Bateman turned to me, and whipped off his demon mask. I was gaping mouth again, because I could not believe what I saw. What should I not been able to see, just three inches from my face.
Love.
And so I waited for the considerate reply Bateman's, how slowly melted the coldness between us and around us. A cocoon of warmth emanates straight from the sun, surrounded us, and I heard the old Xanadu of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem, something about weaving "... aCircle around him thrice and close your eyes with holy dread, for he has fed on honeydew and drunk the milk ... "
"The girl, Brice. What did they do to him?" I interjected.
"I turned them into rehab, and not worry about her at all. You are with me now, you will stay with me forever, and it is no longer running around rescuing people. Understand?" The abandon us. Good . Oh, and by the way ... "
"What?" I asked breathlessly BriceWayne, who looked very dark, with his mask off, male and awesomely beautiful. In a telling far beyond the stage that a strictly ... human. After moving down, I noticed the black bat symbol on his massive chest.
It was not really a picture of a bat. It seemed emblemize something else, like a huge gaping wound. I remembered that Bateman was sometimes called "The Dark Knight." And I remembered it the nickname "The Caped Crusader." Did not do the songs have to do withthe Crusades? It was Jewish, Christian and Muslim knights, I realized. Pierrot would have been one of them? I had heard that Jesus Christ invented vampire bats.
It was as if something had happened to him, because something has happened to me. I blinked and looked again, and the symbol was to be back filled an outline of a black, "Campy" bat from the yellow shining moon, Cary Bates delivered around long.
I had been feeling del'Arte the Commediaabove. Finally.
"Happy Holidays, my dear Marital Arts," the Bateman sighed and picked up a glove and weighs my little chin smoothly into his big brown hand. "Have you ever heard something about a legal matter rather than a divorce work? Much better than. To run away when you're hungry, there's plenty to eat up. By the way, I'm cook our dinner. What do you want? Chinese , Thai ... Italian? "
"I love spaghetti. What happened toAlfred? "
"He is still there. He's off tonight."
(Cut a long, slow to Rod Sterling, does not smile as always, as he never pan at the end of each episode. Rather, he shrugged slightly - as in great pain about the unknown.)
... and this is the story of an ordinary woman who bears a striking knowledge of a potentially Christian, or are suspected turned out differently, winter vacation. One that almost everything, such as: a bat-symbol could be displayed, atawdry joke about a fat, black man without a smile, could save the seriousness of a TV host's show, or a little more realistic hero, a beautiful, brave woman from something much, much worse than a white man like me telling ... the Eventide Zone.
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