Call of Doody: The Fifth and Final Chapter!

Oh my god. OH MY GOD. 

Yes friends, it is I, your terribly inconsistent friendly neighborhood writer. It has been over a year since my last confession....I mean, entry. A YEAR, folks! 

And the worst part is, I've had the ending to Call of Doody in my mind since I began writing it. Yet here we are a year down the road and I still haven't posted it. Every time I tried to actually sit down and write, it never seemed to come out right. I'm talking plot holes up the wazoo. But I need to just finish this thing and lay this beast to bed so that I can work on other projects. It just didn't feel right to start a new story while this unfinished rascal was looming over me in judgement. 

So here we are! The end of Call of Doody! Whatever shall become of Alex, Mark and Cayden? Let's find out together!

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Call of Doody: Part Five

After Cayden left, Alex and I had hunkered down and churned out the rest of the story like two maniacs on speed. I e-mailed the final manuscript to JR in a sleep deprived fog and I'd be lying if I said I even had much recollection of what we'd written. But at least it was done and sent and it was time for Jesus to take the wheel.

All we could do now was wait but we'd been waiting for weeks with no word. I jumped every time a phone jangled. I sat up straighter every time a new email popped up in my inbox. A new text message would nearly send me into a panic attack.

"You need to relax." Alex kept telling me. "It's in the ether now, there's nothing you can do about it."

I would just grumpily return to staring at my phone.

But finally one day, it came. My phone bleeped to life and I saw JR's name on the caller ID.

"Alex! ALEX!" I yelped.

"Jesus, what?" was his bored reply.

"It's JR! JR! JR is on the phone!" I suddenly realized I was stage whispering for some reason.

Alex perked up and I saw his eyes go wide. "Well, answer it!"

"I can't!" I suddenly felt frozen. "I'm scared!"

"Oh for fucks sake...." Alex said, as he took the phone from me, pressed the green button and put it on speakerphone. Then he mouthed to me "Go!"

"Hey JR!" I said, as cheerily and nonchalantly as possible. Be cool, man. Just be cool.

"Evening, kiddo." JR replied. "How are you finding yourself these days?"

"Um...not bad. I've just been--"

"Oh." He interrupted. "Sorry, no. I'm not actually interested, I was just being polite. I'll get right to the point and let you know that I'm calling in regards to  that disjointed and rambling screed you called a 'story' that you e-mailed me a few weeks ago."

"Uh...oh." I stuttered, feeling knocked off balance already. "So....should I bother asking what you thought of it?"

"Oh please do, kiddo. Please please ask me what I thought of it."

"Um..ok. What did you think--"

JR butted in again, "I don't know what you and that nut boyfriend of yours are playing at--"

"Hey, who are you calling a nut?!" Alex yelped, wagging a finger at the phone.

"Well hello, Alexander." JR replied calmly, after a beat, "What a surprise you'd be listening in."

I put a hand on Alex's shoulder and made a face at him, begging for him to calm down and shut up.  "You don't need to be rude to Alex, JR." I said into the phone. "He had nothing to do with it."

"That's cute, kiddo, but don't bother trying to defend him. This thing has his fingerprints all over it. "

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I think you know. Blowing up abortion clinics? Marrying Sarah Palin AND her pregnant daughter? A plumber who carries a gun that fires actual bull shit?"

Alex put a hand over his mouth to stifle the giggling at his own jokes he'd written.

"You don't have the imagination or mental instability for that kind of nonsense and we both know it."

"Hey who are you calling--!" Alex began but I clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Well, we just thought a political game might be cool and like....educational or--"

"Alright, let's cut the bullshit, Matt."

"Mark." I corrected.

"What?"

"You called me Matt. My...my name's Mark?"

"Mark? Huh? Wait, who am I talking to?"

"Your.....nephew?"

"Oh. Mark, huh? Are you sure? I was certain it was Matt..."

"Um....yeah. I'm...I'm pretty sure."

"Hm. Well, alright. Thats what I get for taking all those benzos a few hours ago."

"What the fuck...." Alex mouthed at me. I grimaced and shrugged my shoulders.

"Anyway...."JR continued. "I'll be blunt. The story was terrible. Absolutely terrible. Worst pile of garbage I've ever read in my life."

Alex gave me two thumbs up and a wide grin.

"I mean, I didn't have the highest expectations when I recruited you," JR continued "But I certainly didn't expect anything on this level of just plain crass and tasteless insanity."

"Oh." Was all I could say.

"I'm dumber for having read it, Matt." I didn't bother correcting him. "Do you understand what I'm telling you? I would leave a lobotomy with more brain matter than I had left after reading this. Setting it on fire and throwing it into a sewer would only be an improvement."

Alex had now crossed his arms and was rocking back and forth on his heels with a smug grin splitting wide across his face. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.

"Wow. Well uh...to be honest, we didn't think you'd actually read it. I just assumed you'd send it straight to the storyboard department because you're above all that....you know....menial detail and whatever."

"Oh, I read it. God help me, I read it."

"Ok, I get the point, JR. Geez. Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"Mostly, yes."

"Ok well--"

"You put me in a real tight spot, kid. A real tight spot. Tighter than the pussy on that hooker I had last night, you feel me?"

"Ew! God! No, I don't feel you!"

"We're on too tight of a deadline to commission a new story. So we're going on ahead with yours."

Alex gasped and put a hand on my arm, his eyes wide and his smile even bigger. "Oh my god, Mark!" he whispered excitedly.

"You mean....you're really going to make Call of Doody into a game?"

"Ugh. Please don't ever say those words again. But yes. We've already ran it through several focus groups to determine public reaction and how to market the damn thing."

"Oh. so....what did the focus groups think?"

"Oh, they loved it."

Alex's rapture stalled instantly.

"Sorry, what was that?" I asked, certain I hadn't heard right.

"They loved it. Couldn't get enough. It's already getting incredibly positive buzz from all of the top game reviewers. One even said it was....oh how did he put it? I believe he called it 'brave, poignant and incredibly moving.'"

"I can't say I disagree with him...." Alex said under his breath.

"What?!" I couldn't even try to hide my utter disbelief, "You have to be kidding!"

"I kind of wish I were kiddo. But we're projecting enormous profits on this game. Maybe even record shattering."

 *That* got Alex's attention.

"No!" He shouted into the phone. "No way. How is that possible?!"

"People are idiots, kid. Absolute fucking idiots. They're unpredictable, they're emotional....who the hell knows what they're thinking, right?"

"But....but...." I stammered.

"You're going to have a game, kiddo. Congratulations."

"But....I....but" Oh my god, why couldn't I form words?!

"Strange." JR said cooly. "I'd have thought you'd be more excited. It's not like you were trying to sabotage me or anything, right kiddo? You wouldn't do that to your old uncle, now would you?"

"I...uh....no! Of course not!"

JR snorted. "OK. Right."

"So JR," Alex said, suddenly looking as if he'd been struck by a brilliant idea. "What kind of royalties can we expect from this game?"

Oh wow, I hadn't even thought of that. Maybe we wouldn't be sinking JR's company but at least we could get rich! But JR just started laughing hysterically. Alex and I exchaned concerened glances.

"Oh kid, you kill me! You absolutely kill me! HA HA HA!"

"I *wish*...." muttered Alex.

"What? What's so funny? We're going to get royalites right?" I demanded.

"No! God no. Hell no." JR said, after he'd recovered from his fit enough to form words.

"What?! You can't do that!" Alex shouted.

"Sure I can." JR said cooly, having fully recovered at this point.

"But we WROTE it! We're entitled to compensation!"

JR just scoffed. "Entitled? You didn't sign a contract. You don't have a lawyer. I asked you for a favor and offered a flat payment and you accepted."

"But you're going to make millions off of our game! All I get is a measly $500?!"

"I didn't hear you complaining when I intitially offered it to you."

"You're not going to get away with this JR!" Alex threatened.

"Oh, pipe down pussy cat. Of course I will. You don't have a legal leg to stand on."

"Well...." I sputtered, trying to think of a devastating comeback, "Well..."

"You may make some money, JR, but your name is going to be ruined! The public may like this game, but no one in the industry is going to take you seriously after releasing something like this!" Alex said, his brain still firing on all cylinders apparently.

"Yeah!" I stupidly agreed.

JR chuckled again. "You kids really have no idea how business works do you? My company is creating this game, but they're distributing it under the name of my sister company."

"Sister company?" Alex repeated.

"What sister company?" I demanded.

"The one I created for the sole purpose of releasing this shit storm of a game. You think I'm going to tarnish my company's reputation with that piece of trash? Hell, I was planning on excorcising it and throwing it into the fires of hell up until I saw the publics reaction to it. Money has a way of changing my mind."

"But the public is still expecting a release from YOUR company! What about your deadline? How's that going to make you look?"

"Aw, that's really sweet. Well, I appreciate your concern for my company, but I wouldn't worry about me. Oddly enough, I received an e-mail shortly after yours with yet ANOTHER story concept for a game which was actually quite excellent. Best game concept I've read in years, to be honest."

"You....you received another story?"

"Yeah...something to do with an old veteran with a limp. A cybernetic suit. Some chick with massive knockers. That part really sold me, not gonna lie."

Alex and I exchanged horrified glances.

"Fucking Cayden!" We yelped in unison.

"Yeah, that was his name! "JR said "Friend of yours, right? Bright kid. Definitely going places."

"So what, you're going to make both games?"

"No, I'm hiring this one out to some podunk studio in South Korea. The graphics and music will be of much lower quality but they can get it done quickly. And more important, cheaply. But the game has tested great in focus groups so far and we expect it to be a wild success. We've already signed him on to write the next two and make it into a trilogy."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Nah, the truth is much more fun. And fortunately for your friend, he had the foresight to have a lawyer look over everything before he agreed to anything. He's going to be a very rich man in a few months. Brilliant, that one. You could really learn something from him."

"This isn't happening. This isn't happening." My brain had blown a circuit. What are thoughts? What are words? What planet am I on?!

"Well the jokes on you JR!" Alex sneered. "The public loves our game so who's to stop us from writing more and selling them to a competing game studio?"

"Hey yeah!" I said softly, Alex's brilliance breaking my stupor. And then I repeated, louder and more threateningly into the phone. "Yeah! How about *that* JR?"

JR just snickered. "Welllll, I certainly can't stop you but you may find it bit difficult. Someone may have started a rumor on Reddit that the writers of that game are women. And feminists. And social justice warriors. It may have spread a bit out of control from there. I think you might have a hard time finding anyone willing to work with you from here on out. Oh and.....you might want to change your address."

"You....YOU...." Alex spat and sputtered and then he exploded. "YOU FUCKING PRICK! YOU GREEDY MANIPULATIVE BASTARD! YOU SHIT EATING COCK SUCKING GOOD FOR NOTHING--"

"What he said!" I added.

JR sounded unmoved. "Don't fuck around with a rich man, kiddo. You'll never win. Enjoy your bland and meaningless existence."

And he hung up.

We just sat there in numb silence for a few minutes, neither of us moving or saying a word. Finally Alex broke the silence.

"Sheesh. Can you believe that guy?" he said.

I slowly turned to him with dark eyes. "This. Is all. Your. Fault!" I said, carefully enunciating each word. Alex looked taken aback.

"My fault?" He said. "How is this my fault? He's your uncle!"

"This was all your idea! If we had just tried to write a good story, we wouldn't have pissed off JR and then we could be collecting all those royalties instead of Cayden!"

"Well, who is the one who kicked Cayden out of the damn house?!"

"I...you....I.." I sputtered. Ok, he had me there but I wasn't giving up. "Well, you wouldn't let Cayden use his story idea anyway! You insisted on creating the worst game possible!"

"Ok...ok." Alex was holding his palms up in surrender. "Sure. You're right. But....but look at it this way!" He said, putting on an optimistic tone. "Isn't it satisfying to know that a story you wrote is going to be beloved by millions of people? It could be a cult classic! I mean, it's not about the money, it's about the art, right?"

"Of course it's about the money!" I snapped. "I don't give a shit about making art! Why can't you just admit that you were being a troll and it ruined everything?" 

"Fine alright, it's my fault! It's all my fault! Is that what you want to hear?" He sounded tired.

"Yes." I replied curtly. "Yes it is."

"It's not like I had to twist your arm to get you to go along with it though. You were a willing accomplice."

"Ugh....fine." I put my face in my hands. "Fine, I was an accomplice. Let's just drop it, ok? I just want to forget that any of this ever happened."

"Sounds good to me." Alex said, rubbing my back. Then, "You want to just watch some TV then?"

"Sure." I replied, feeling defeated.

"Ok!" Alex chirped, trying to cheer me up. He turned on the set and we see Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick yukking it up on the screen.

"Oh check it out, The Producers is on!" He said, gleefully. "I love this movie! Want to watch?"

My head slowly rolled to one side and I regarded him darkly before slowly saying two simple words. Two words that I should have learned to say a long time ago.

"Shut. Up."

THE END

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That's all folks! Woohoo! I finished a story! I actually really finished a story! Ten points to Gryffindor!

So looking forward, I have a couple of original stories that have been kicking around in my head for the last few years, but I'm still having some trouble getting the bits and pieces to come together coherently. One of them I think would probably work better in comic book form (time to practice drawing again!) and the other one just needs a lot of work. But I do have some progress done on a fanfiction I've been working on, so maybe I'll post that next. Or maybe I will leave this blog for short stories and prompts just so I can keep practicing and maybe leave less than a year between posts, heh.

We shall see, but in the meantime, I'm going to bask in the glory of actually finishing something I started for once. Thank you so much for reading and happy trails to you!

Love,

Ryssa

Call of Doody: Part Four

Good evenin', folks! 

Well, I've been on a bit of a hiatus due to my laptop deciding to turn on me and not work for the last few months. Traitor! But it's sort-of working now. Well enough to finish up the next chapter of Call of Doody, at least! We fall back down! But we get up again! You're never gonna bring me down! I fall back down but I--man, I miss Chumbawumba, don't you? No? Ok well, let's just get on with the next chapter then.... 

Call of Doody: Part Four

By the time I had walked back to the kitchen table, Cayden was saying, "All right, check this out. I've got a killer idea right here." He tapped the legal pad with his pen emphatically. 

"Ok, let's hear it." Alex replied.

"We already have our idea, Alex." I said as I pulled out a chair and sat.

"Well, we can at least give it a listen, right?" Alex said through his teeth, pretty clearly not wanting to scare Cayden away. "Go ahead, Cayden."

I sighed,  crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows at Cayden, waiting for him to start.

Cayden sat up a little taller and dove right in. "Alright. So there's this grizzled paunchy veteran. He fought valiantly and was given honors in several wars. But now he's tired and forgotten. His kids don't speak to him. His ex-wife hates him. He suffers from PTSD. He has to use a cane to get around and he loads himself up on more pills than House MD. The war is over but not for him, right?

"But something happens. He gets a letter in the mail or something and the FBI wants to see him right away. They're sending agents to his house that evening. They say one of his oldest and most deadly adversaries is back--maybe the one who ruined his legs to begin with--and they need his help to stop him. Our hero refuses because he's done fighting, he's seen enough. But they have a surprise.

"They plan to hook him up to a cybernetic body that will make his aging body stronger and faster than when he was in his prime. They have an entire arsenal of weaponry and an army at his disposal. He can finally take out the bastard who took his legs and his life. He accepts the mission and then the game begins."

Finished, Cayden leaned back in the chair once again and took a few more drags off the spliff, looking back and forth between me and Alex for our reaction. I glanced across the table at Alex who was staring at Cayden, slack jawed. I watched as his lips slowly formed the words what the fuck. I was just as stunned. Not only had I never heard Cayden speak above a third grade reading level before but the story was....well, it was good. Like...really good.

"Whoa..." I finally managed to say.

"Oh and of course there's a sassy intern at the FBI with huge tits." Cayden continued after a moment. "She'll get a lot of screen time. And she and our hero get busy, if you know what I'm sayin'." He started to simulate humping again, along with some over-the-top moaning, just to be certain we got the picture. Ah, there's the Cayden, I know. 

"Wow Cayden, I uh....." I started again. "I very honestly don't know what to say."

"That sounds amazing, dude." Alex said, still looking shell-shocked.

"It'll be great, man!" Cayden was sucking down the rest of that spliff like it was going out of style. "It'll have everything. Drama, romance, big tits. Lots of action. Maybe a tear filled reunion with his kids at the end. You got any vodka?"

That last request snapped Alex out of his reverie and he vaguely nodded saying "yeah, yeah. Sure, man." He got up and  reached into the cupboard over the fridge, then returned to the table to pour Cayden a shot.

Without a thank you, Cayden threw his head back with the shot and set it back down with a loud ahhh.

"So uh...." I said awkwardly before clearing my throat. "Uh...where were we?"

"Large titted FBI interns, I believe." Alex deadpanned.

"Yeah, yeah." Cayden said. "So I guess now we just have to write the script."

"Well....just a minute." I began cautiously, "There were some problems with the story I think we should talk about."

"Like what?' Cayden said, defensively. "What problems? You said it was amazing."

"Yeah, I have a few notes for you as well." Alex added.

"What? What kind of notes?"

"Well..." Alex began. "First there's the issue with using a military man."

Cayden squinted at Alex. "How is that a problem? It's a military game."

"True, but...we were thinking of taking it in another direction."

Cayden looked dubious. "And what direction is that?"

"Well, we wanted to write the sort of game that the every man could relate to, you know, the blue collared red-blooded Americans who play these games."

"Military people play these games too." Cayden pointed out.

Alex continued as if he hadn't heard. "So we were thinking of the protagonist being something like....oh I don't know....a plumber, for instance."

Cayden looked like he'd just been told the sky is red. "A plumber? What, are you insane?"

"No, no we're quite serious." Alex steepled his fingers together and was putting on a tone like he was some big shot executive at a studio. I could tell he was enjoying this.

"You're out of your mind! No one wants to play Call of Duty so they can play a plumber!"

"What about the Super Mario Brothers?" Alex continued. "Those are the most successful games of all time."

"They're for little kids!"

Alex put on a hurt face. "I resent that remark, Cayden."

"If people want to play Super Mario Brothers, they can play Super Mario Brothers but this is Call of Duty! They're not the same thing! At all!"

"Cayden, you need to trust us." Alex had reached out a hand and placed it on Cayden's arm as if he was a guidance counselor or something. "We know JR very well and we know what kind of game he wants."

"You're full of shit!" Cayden was getting visibly upset now. "I don't care if that's what he wants. You're just going to ruin it!"

"No, no we're not." I jumped in.

"Yes you are! Fuck you guys!"

"Here's the deal, Cayden." Alex said, firmly. "We already have a story we want to tell, we just need you to help us with the more technical parts. Like, how many cut scenes we should have, gun specs, that sort of thing. Like a consultant!"

Cayden looked deflated. "I thought I was going to help you with the actual story."

"You are helping!" I offered, reluctantly. "We haven't played the games and your consultation will make it better and more Call of Duty...ish."

Cayden didn't look like he was buying it but he muttered, "If you say so."

"And you'll get a credit in the game." Alex added, in a slight sing-song.

"Fine. Whatever. Let's just do this." Cayden said, defeated. He glowered down at his legal pad and folded his bulky arms. The air had been stuffed with tension since Cayden walked in the door but now it felt ready to burst. I noticed I was wiping my palms on my pants, as they had started to sweat.

"So what's the title?" Cayden finally asked.

"Uh..." I began and looked at Alex.

"Er..." Alex intoned.

"That's a stupid title." Cayden said.

"The title isn't important right now." Alex quickly recovered. "We're working on it."

"Then what's it about?"

"Um...." I said, "It's about Joe the Plumber."

Cayden shrugged and shook his head. "Who's that?"

"He's a guy who was relevant in politics a few years ago." Alex answered.

Cayden looked even more confused. "Oh." was all he said.

"Yeah, because we thought it might be cool to make a political game." I continued.

Cayden still looked confused. "I don't get it."

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't." is what I wanted to say. But before I had a chance, Alex was already speaking.

"This is what I'm picturing for the opener." he said. "It's a beautiful sunny morning somewhere in the midwest. The sky is blue, the birds are singing and the camera slowly pans over to a quaint looking abortion clinic...."

"Whoa, hold on!" Cayden interrupted, holding up his hand. "Abortion clinic?"

"Yeah." Alex replied, nonchalantly and continued, "We see a few protesters milling about outside, holding signs and chanting but nothing crazy. Idyllic music is playing when suddenly! BOOM!" Cayden and I jumped in our seats at the sudden outburst. "The clinic is replaced by a mushroom cloud!"

"What?!" Cayden screeched.

Alex kept going, "The protesters go flying, the clinic is eviscerated and there's nothing left but a crater. But as the smoke clears we see him strutting through the devastation and towards the camera. Our hero--Joe the Plumber."

Cayden just sat there blinking a lot. I wasn't sure what the blinking indicated but it didn't look good.

"He cocks a sawed off shotgun and points it at the camera." Alex continued. "Then he says, 'Not on my watch, motherfuckers' and shoots. The blast and gun powder slowly congeal to form the words of the title as dramatic music plays. And then the game begins."

I glanced towards Cayden again. His face was a slightly alarming shade of red and his lips kept moving as if to form words but nothing was coming out.

"So....hang on a second." I asked Alex. "Does he intend to destroy the clinic or the protesters?"

"Who knows." Alex says, his eyes glistening.  "Maybe both. Maybe neither. Joe the Plumber don't care. Joe the Plumber don't give a fuck."

"But....what's his motivation?"

"To save America."

"Ok but to save it from what?"

"From the terrorists."

"And who are the terrorists?"

Alex grinned "That's the big question, isn't it?"

I rested my chin in my hand, fingers splayed over my pursed mouth. I frowned, thinking and after a very pregnant pause, said, "I'm....not sure I understand, Alex."

"You don't have to understand. Nobody does. I don't care if people understand it just so long as they ha--"

I loudly cleared my throat and inclined my head toward Cayden.

"Uh...ha--have a discussion about it!" Alex recovered. "Nobody will hate it. I was definitely not going to say 'hate'."

Cayden finally found his voice. "Yes they will. Everyone will hate it. That's the worst idea I've ever heard."

"You haven't let me get to the best part yet!" Alex said, feigning offense.

"Well then what's the best part?"

"Guess who the final boss is."

"I don't know."

"Go on, guess!"

"I don't want to guess."

"Come on, just throw out a name!"

"Fuck, I don't....." Cayden rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. John Cena?"

"Nope!" Alex was exuberant.

"Can you just tell us who it is, please?" I asked tiredly, my face still resting in my hand.

"Barack Obama."

I let my forehead fall to the table with a thud. My voice came out as a muffled groan. "Really, Alex?"

"Ha. Now that I can get behind." Cayden said, finally grinning.

Alex was beaming. "That's more like it! I'm picturing him standing atop a mountain of burning copies of the US Constitution. And he's got a pointy tail and a pitch fork. Behind him are symbols of the New World Order."

"Yeah man." Cayden said, chuckling. "I like where your head is at!"

Alex continued,  "And then Michelle pops in from time to time during the final battle to throw vegetables at you while Beyonce music bumps in the background."

Cayden faltered, mid-chuckle. "Wait, what?"

"Cool. Sounds great." I said with zero enthusiasm, peeling my face off the table. "We have a beginning and end now, so let's work on the middle."

"But wait, this is the best part!" Alex was beginning to gesture wildly with his hands. "So at the end you kill Barack Obama right? Boom! Right between the eyes! Yay, rah-rah, victory music is playing and whatnot. But then. Then you see him in the background. His corpse is reanimated and he rises slowly behind you. As our hero faces the camera triumphantly, Obama pulls out a giant wooden cross from behind his back and somberly says 'Forgive them, Father. For they know not what they do.' And then BANG. Brings the cross down on Joe the Plumber's head and pummels him right into the ground. The messiah has risen. It's time for the New World Order to arise. Game Over. "

I stared at Alex, my jaw agape, eyes squinted and one eyebrow cocked heavenward. "How much have you had to drink?" I asked.

Alex looked offended. "I haven't drank anything." he said, brusquely.

Cayden started to laugh. "Dude, you're crazy. That's the funniest thing I've ever heard! You should write for like....I dunno MAD TV or something."

Alex smiled in appreciation. "Thanks, man."

"Oh my god, this is insane...." I mumbled, covering my face with my hands and rubbing my temples with my thumbs.

"So that's the hardest parts out of the way. Beginning, end....all the rest is just filler, right?" Alex was saying.

"Well, I mean we don't really have an ending yet." Cayden noted.

"We don't?" Alex replied. "I just told you the ending."

Cayden paused for a minute then let out an awkward "ha!", waiting for the punchline. When Alex and I didn't move, he sat back and little and said quietly. "You can't be serious."

"Absolutely." said Alex. I groaned into my hands.

Cayden glanced wildly back and forth between me and Alex. "You guys are actually serious about this? This is seriously the game you want to make?"

"I don't know if  'want' is the word I would use." I said, lifting my head to one side to give Alex the stink eye.

"I stand behind it, one hundred percent." Alex said with confidence.

"But....like...you don't even win." Cayden protested.

Alex put on a serious expression. "Does anyone really win in this crazy game of life, Cayden?" he asked.

Cayden looked down and shook his head. "Ya'll are trippin'..." he muttered. "Like....you're gonna get shot for this shit."

"Nah, we won't get shot." Alex said flippantly. Then he cocked his head to the side and appeared to mull it over for a minute before saying again, but quieter and with less bravado this time. "We won't get shot."

"Well, I'm out." Cayden pushed back his chair and lifted his hands in surrender. "I'm not going to watch my favorite game series go down like this. Not that you'll pull it off anyway. There's no way anyone will actually make this thing." He stood up and began making his way toward the door.

"Who says?" Alex retorted.

"Says....I dunno, smartness?" Cayden paused and turned to face Alex. "Says, anyone with a brain? This will ruin the company! They'll never be allowed to make another Call of Duty game again!"

"That's the point." Alex said, as if it were obvious. I made a wild gesture meant to communicate "shut up" but I think I ended up just flailing incoherently.

Cayden froze in his tracks. "Wait, what?"

"Look." Alex sighed. "Like I told you before, Mark's uncle owns the company that makes Call of Duty and he's a raging asshole. He pissed off all his employees and no one will work with him so he asked Mark to write the next game. He's barely paying him anything, but he's already paid in advance. So we're taking the money and giving him the worst game ever so that we can ruin him while we laugh all the way to the bank."

Cayden scoffed. "What, like in that movie The Producers?"

"No dammit, it's not like The Producers!" Alex exclaimed in frustration.

"It's exactly like The Producers." I said.

Alex turned to me, eyes blazing, and seethed. "No. It really isn't."

"Yeah. It really is." Cayden innocently insisted. "I just saw it on HBO this weekend."

"No. NO." Alex's face was growing red. "It's not the like The mother fucking Producers, ok? We're not making any money off of this thing!"

"Well, we're making some money...." I muttered.

"It's not the same!"

"Look, I don't care if you want to rip off some lame-ass movie." Cayden interjected. "I'm not going to watch my favorite game franchise go down in flames, all right?"

"Oh good going, Alex." I said, glaring at him.

"Good going, for what?" Cayden said, turning to me. "For spilling your big master plan? For telling me how you were using me to ruin a game I love?"

"Oh please!" I snapped. "We weren't using you! As if you're of any use anyway."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Cayden looked ready to start throwing punches and I immediately regretted opening my mouth. But I was already tired and frustrated, so I just charged on.

"Oh come on. Like you actually know how to write in the first place."

"I do!" Cayden cried. "What, like you can write better? Messiah Obama and abortion clinics? Fuck man, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"

"Yeah, well everything you've ever said is that stupidest thing I've ever heard!" I shot back.

"What the fuck is your problem, man?"

I rose from my seat to meet Cayden eye-to-eye. "You're my problem, man!" I snapped, gesturing with scare quotes on either side of my head on the word 'man.' "I didn't even want you to come over and help us to begin with!"

"Well, then why did you ask me?!"

"I didn't ask you! You sat your fat ass down and insisted on helping us!"

"Oh well, pardon me!" Cayden growled, sarcastically. "I'm so sorry I wanted to fucking help you! Excuse me for living!"

"Oh please, like you even cared. You just wanted to eat our food, drink our alcohol--at eleven in the fucking morning, I might add--and tell me some ridiculous story about blowing guys at band camp."

"Oh, is that what you guys were talking about?" Alex asked, in a lame attempt to change the subject. We both ignored him.

"It wasn't at band camp, alright?" Cayden countered. "It was at summer camp. And it's not a ridiculous story. I just thought you might relate, that's all."

"Pah!" I scoffed. "Are you kidding? I haven't blown twenty guys in my life, much less in one summer!"

"So what, you think you're better than me? Is that it? Mr. Puritan?"

"Would you give it a rest, Cayden?!" I was shouting now. "You don't even know what 'puritan' means. And it didn't actually happen, so stop acting like it did."

"It did happen!" He shouted back.

"Like hell it did! It didn't happen the same way the FBI breaking down your door didn't happen, the same way hitting some kid on a ferris wheel didn't happen, the same way banging 50 girls in one night didn't happen, the same way none of your asinine stories have happened."

"What are you talking about?!" Cayden seemed genuinely confused and I had to give him credit for his commitment. "If they hadn't happened, I wouldn't have said they did!"

"Oh sure, sure!" I said, rolling my eyes dramatically. "Like some guy who dropped out school in 9th grade and makes a living dealing weed helped the Navy Seals find Osama Bin Laden."

"Are you calling me a liar?!" Cayden shouted, his eyes narrowing. "Is that it?"

"Hey, who's thirsty?" Alex suddenly piped up. "It's 5 o'clock somewhere, right? Why don't we just sit back down and have a little--"

"Alright fine." I said to Cayden, cutting Alex off. "Fine. You want to know the real reason we wanted you to help us?"

"Mark. Don't." Alex was standing now and put a warning hand on my shoulder. I shrugged him off.

"We asked you to help us write a story because you're full of shit. Yeah. That's right. You're full of nothing but bullshit."

Cayden opened his mouth to speak but I didn't give him the opportunity. The part of my brain screaming 'stop, you idiot!' lost and the words flowed out of me like a gattling gun.

"No, don't! Don't even bother! Because everything that comes out of that moronic, mouth-breathing hole in your face is nothing but lies and everyone knows it! You aren't fooling anyone, asshole. You think we're stupid enough to fall for your crap? Everyone knows you're full of shit and we all just think you're pathetic. You're not cool and you never have been. But I'll give you one thing. You sure can spin a good yarn. Not a believable yarn, but a ridiculous and idiotic one, which is exactly what we needed. So yeah, we were using you, Cayden. And you couldn't even do that right."

I paused to catch my breath, my chest heaving, fists in tight balls at my side. Cayden's eyes weren't narrowed anymore, he was just....staring at me. Eyes round and glassy, lips parted, shoulders slumped. He looked like I'd just slapped him. Finally, he looked away and took a couple of steps back.

"You know what." He pointed at me and Alex. "Fuck you guys. Fuck. You."

"Fuck you!" I snapped back.

"I didn't do shit to you, man." He waved an arm at me like he was shooing away a fly and started for the door. Then he turned and said, "You're not going to get away with this. I'll make sure of it. You can say whatever you want about me but I'm not going to let you ruin my game."

"Whatever, dude." I said, rolling my eyes and looking away.

"Don't call me 'dude'." He replied in a low voice. "You say your uncle's an asshole? I guess the banana doesn't fall far from the tree."

I heard him turn and his heavy footsteps faded away and up the stairs until I heard the door to his apartment slam. There was silence for a moment and then I heard Alex release a long and shaky breath, like he'd been holding it this entire time. I'd almost forgotten he was there.

"Well....that was....somethin'." He finally said.


Coming up next! The fifth and final chapter of Call of Doody! Hide yo' kids, hide yo' wives! And as always, thanks for reading!

Love, 
Ryssa

Call of Doody: Part Three

Evenin' folks! I hope you are finding yourselves well today!

You may have noticed I neglected to post last week. I have several grand excuses for this mishap but I doubt you are interested in a single one of them (nor should you be.) 

I would like to say, however, that I found myself falling into old habits while writing this chapter and I kept putting off posting it because it wasn't quite right and it's too rough and it's too this and it's too that. But that is the attitude that has kept me from writing for much too long! Those are the exact moments I need to power through and is a big reason why I am attempting a weekly deadline. I spend too much time thinking and not enough time writing. Writing requires thinking, of course, but overdoing it just leads to the writing never getting done. And ain't nobody got time for that!

So I may not be 100% satisfied with it and it may be rough but regardless, I present you with chapter three in the tale of Call of Doody. Like a wild animal, I release it into the untamed wilderness of the internet. 

You're free, Chapter Three! You're free!

Call of Doody: Part Three

Before we even had a chance to move, I could already hear the door slamming open and the floorboards creaking under Cayden's heavy steps toward the kitchen.

"Would it kill you to lock the door once in awhile?" I hissed at Alex. Alex opened his mouth to respond but Cayden was already rounding the corner and trudging into the kitchen.

"Wassup assholes?" he greeted us.

"Hey, man. How's it goin'?" Alex replied.

"Ah, you know." Cayden said vaguely as he made a beeline for our cupboards and started to root through them as if he were looking for treasure. Eventually he found a jar of peanut butter and started scooping it out with his fingers, shoving it in his mouth and then returning his saliva soaked fingers back to the jar to repeat the process. I tried to speak but found myself bound by what must have been some sort of panic induced paralysis. Instead I just stared, horrified, until it registered that my teeth were searing with pain. Then I realized I was clenching my jaw so hard, for a moment I thought it might snap. Finally Alex, stood up and moseyed over to Cayden.

"So what's up? What can I do for ya?" He asked nonchalantly, as he leaned on the kitchen counter with one hand.

Cayden set the jar of peanut butter back on the counter for a minute and said around a mouth full of glue. "Oh nothin', man. I just wanted to see how you liked that cigarette I gave you." The way he said "cigarette" did not sit well with me. Nor did the way he winked when he said it. Or, while we're at it, the way slimy peanut butter sputtered from his lips with every syllable.

I finally found my voice and said coldly, "Do you mean that rancid, charred butt that you sold him?"

Cayden ignored me. "So how was it?"

Alex blinked. "It was uh....it was fine. You know. It was a cigarette. A....half-burnt up cigarette."

Cayden looked past Alex at the table and saw the cigarette still smoldering in the makeshift ashtray. With Cayden distracted, I noticed Alex snatch the desecrated peanut butter jar off the counter and discreetly toss it into the trash bin. I love that man.

"Aw, what the hell? You didn't smoke it yet?" Cayden had walked over to the table now and was examining the cigarette.

"Yeah, I took a puff." Alex replied.

"One puff?"

"Yeah. So what? I bought it, I can do what I want with it. I was thinking of using it as a centerpiece."

"Why don't you go on and finish it?"

Alex frowned and set his jaw. "No."

"Why not?"

 "I don't want to."

"Come on. It's not even a whole smoke."

"Nah, one puff and I'm good. I'm on a diet."

"Just one more drag, man!" Now Cayden was holding the cigarette up in front of Alex's face. I felt like I was watching an after school special and the Power Rangers were going to appear any minute to teach Alex how to Just Say No.

"No, dude!"

"Why not?"

"Because you're being weird about it!"

"I'm not being weird about it."

"Why do you care so much if I smoke this? What, did you lace it with PCP or something?"

Cayden reared back a bit and looked affronted. "What? Nah dude, it's just a spliff."

"A spliff?!" I yelped.

"A spliff!" Alex repeated and then he busted up laughing.

Cayden laughed too. "Yeah, man. I wouldn't charge a dollar for a half smoked cigarette, what kind of guy do you think I am?"

"The kind of guy who would slip someone illegal drugs without their knowledge and laugh about it?" I sneered, narrowing my eyes.

Alex put a hand on my shoulder and said gently. "It's all right, Mark. Lighten up, there's no harm done." Then to Cayden in a more jovial tone, "I guess that explains why I'm so hungry!" He and Cayden roared again, like it was the most hilarious thing they'd ever heard. I pointedly removed Alex's hand from my shoulder.

"Oh yeah, and I was wondering if I could borrow your power drill." Cayden said to Alex, once they'd stopped cackling.

"Sure thing, man, let me go get it."

Alex disappeared down the hallway to our spare room and I took the opportunity to stand up and take something for the massive headache I felt coming on. But before I could take two steps, Cayden had grabbed me by the arm and pulled me to a far corner of the kitchen. In a hushed voice he said, "Hey man, I don't mean to freak you out or anything....but dude." he paused dramatically. "The way your roommate put his hand on your shoulder? I think he might be gay for you, man."

I squinted my eyes in confusion. "My....roommate?"

"Yeah, man!" He pointedly looked in the direction of the hallway Alex had just entered.

Alex?

"Do you mean Alex?" I asked.

"Yes! He wants to bone you, dude!" And then he demonstrated the euphemism by enthusiastically humping the air.

"Alex...uh." Oh god, I do not want to have this conversation. Especially not with Cayden. "He's not my roommate. He's my boyfriend."

Cayden stopped ghost humping and his jaw dropped as he let out a weird sort of squawk. I waited for a second but he just kept staring at me, bug-eyed, so I felt like I should keep going.

"So um....yeah, I....I know he wants to bone me and um....it's cool so.....yeah....." The words trailed away awkwardly.

"Oh wow." Cayden finally said, then he splayed his fingers over his head and made an explosion noise with his mouth. "Mind officially blown, man!"

"Really?" I said, genuinely surprised. "Is it really not obvious?"

"Yeah, man, I thought you just had a Bert and Ernie thing going on. You know like, on that puppet show."

"I'm pretty sure Bert and Ernie were gay, actually."

"And you guys fight a lot." he continued.

"We do not!"

"Yes you do."

"No we don't!"

"You're fighting right now."

"I'm...." I sputtered. "I'm not fighting!"

"And you call him 'dude.'"

"So what?" I said, sounding more defensive than I intended. It wasn't weird that I called him 'dude'. Was it? "He was my friend for years before we got together. I call all of my friends 'dude,'"

"You don't call me 'dude.'"

Shit. He sounded hurt and for some reason, I felt myself deflate. There was an awkward silence.

"Well..." I said, struggling for words "I mean.....I don't..."

"I'm just fuckin' with ya, man!" He said finally, slapping me on the back and releasing a good-natured chuckle. "Nah, it's cool man, I know we're friends."

We are? I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just nodded. Fuck, why am I nodding?

"And you two, it's cool, you know. I'm not homophobic or nothin'. Fuck yeah, gay marriage and shit."

I nodded and gave a tight smile. "Ok. Cool, man."

"My uncle's gay, you know."

I nodded again. "Cool."

"Sometimes I think I might be gay."

I didn't know how to respond to that so I just said "Hm." and nodded some more, wanting nothing more than for this conversation to end.

"Like, I've kissed guys." he continued. "One time at summer camp when I was 13 I kissed like twenty guys."

Oh here we go again. Time to settle in for another one of Cayden's tales.

"Did you?" I asked, sarcastically, knowing that he wouldn't pick up on it. He never has before, at least.

"Yeah! I sucked so many dicks that summer, man. They called me the Cock Master."

"Did they now?"

"And then they hoisted me in up in the air and carried me all around the camp chanting 'Cock Master! Cock Master!'"

More nodding. "Ok then."

Thankfully, it was at that point that Alex finally emerged from the hallway.

"Here you go, dude." Alex said, as he rounded into the kitchen. Then he stopped short and looked taken aback when he saw me and Cayden still huddled together in the corner, infinitely closer than I would have liked. "What uh....what are you guys doing?" he asked, trying to sound cool but I knew that tone of voice.

"See man?" Cayden said to me. "At least your boyfriend calls me dude."

"What?" Alex asked, looking like he didn't know if he should be confused or angry.

I gladly took several steps back from Cayden. "Nothing. Cayden was just telling me about Cock Masters."

"What?!" Ok, that definitely sounded angry. I don't think I quite thought through how that sounded.

"Don't worry, brotha, I wouldn't hit on your old man." Cayden said as he walked over to Alex and put an arm around his shoulders. Then he winked at me. "He's not my type, anyway." I felt my stomach heave a little.

Alex kept looking back and forth between me and Cayden but finally relaxed his shoulders and just said, "I'm so confused."

After an uncomfortably long silence, I said "Well, this has been fun. But me and Alex have lot of work to do."

"Yeah, I bet you do." Cayden said slyly, winking at me again.

"Will you stop doing that, please? We have a lot of work to do and we need--"

"Dude, are you gay?" Alex asked Cayden, cutting me off. Cayden just shrugged.

I pressed on. "And we need to have some privacy--"

"Privacy, huh?" Cayden said in that same sly tone. Then he started humping the air again.

"Would you knock it off?!" I shouted, which startled all three of us. As long as they were quiet, I finished my sentence in a rush. "We have a lot of work to do and we need to concentrate, so will you please go home?"

Cayden was undeterred. "Well, what are you guys working on?"

"Nothing--" I started to say but I was too late and Alex was already saying. "Mark's asshole of an uncle asked us to write the story for the next Call of Duty game."

Cayden's eyes lit up. "No shit? I love that game! That's crazy, man!"

"Yep. Crazy." I replied curtly. "And it's due tomorrow so we really need to get to work so if you could just....you know...." I cocked my head toward the front door.

"I can help though!"

"No." I said, already shaking my head vigorously. "Absolutely not."

"What the fuck, man? Why not?"

Because you're the most crass and irritating individual I've ever met? is what I thought, but instead I said, "Because my uncle assigned this task to me and only me. I need to do it myself."

"It's not the Ring of Power, Mark." Alex said, under his breath. I widened my eyes and mouthed at him, "Shut. Up." 

"How are you supposed to write it?" Cayden asked, sounding skeptical. "Do either of you even play Call of Duty?"

 I snorted and said "Yeah. Like, only all the time." Alex raised an eyebrow at me.

Cayden regarded me for a moment and asked, "Which one's your favorite?"

I felt a bead of sweat trickle down my face. There's more than one? I looked to Alex for help but he was busy looking at the ground and biting his fist to keep from laughing.

"The..." I started and then cleared my throat. "The one where ah...."

"Oh, I know." Cayden offered. "Is it the one where you're in the civil war?"

"Yes!" I said, pointing my finger for emphasis. "Yep, that's it! Such a great game. Man, what a war that was."

"Liar!" Cayden bellowed and shoved his finger in my face. "None of them are about the civil war!"

I shrank back and for a terrifying moment I thought I might relieve myself in my pants. I recovered, however, and spat back, "Well, you're one to talk about lying!"

"What? What does that mean?" Cayden asked, sounding genuinely befuddled.

"Nothing. Nevermind." I didn't want to press it. The longer we argued, the longer before he left.

"Well you just proved you haven't played the games and you need my help, so I'm helping."

"Why do you want to help? Don't you have something better to do on a Saturday? Like....I don't know, power drilling?"

"Come on, man!" Cayden was now pulling out a chair at the table and tearing off several sheets from Alex's legal pad. "I love Call of Duty and I love writing. This is perfect!"

"You love writing?" Alex piped up.

"Yeah! Why do you sound surprised?"

Alex and I didn't say anything. Where would we start?

"Well..." Alex finally said, slowly. "I mean, I guess you do have a flair for story telling."

I half-nodded. That's a fair point.

"You have no idea, man!" Cayden picked the spliff up from the ashtray and took a drag. On the exhale he said,  "I don't have a degree or nothin' but I won first place in every writing contest they had in high school."

"I'm sure you did." I said, rolling my eyes.

"I've even been published." he continued.

Alex, did a double-take. "You've been published?" He actually sounded impressed. I looked at him sideways. He didn't actually believe this crap, did he?

Cayden leaned back in his chair, looking smug. "Yep. Front page on Reddit for two weeks."

"I don't think that counts." I said, dryly.

"Hey dude, will you excuse us for a minute?" Alex said to Cayden as he grabbed me by the hand and led me into the living room. Once we were out of earshot, he whispered "I think he should help us." at the same time I whispered, "He is not helping us."

"Why not?" Alex asked, frustrated.

"Do you even have to ask?!" I said before Alex gestured for me to keep my voice down. I continued in a lower register, "It's Cayden! I don't want him in my house, I don't want to hang out with him and I don't want to work with him! No! No, no, absolutely not, no!"

"You're so judgmental." Alex chided me. "Give him a chance. You have to admit he's great at making up stories."

"We already decided on a story."

"But he's actually played the game! We need him, Mark! We do." He put his hands on my upper arms and gently rubbed up and down. "Come on. You can put up with him for one day."

I groaned, feeling my defenses crumble around me like sawdust. "God. Fine. But if he sticks his fingers in any more food, he's out of here!"

Alex smiled and clasped my arms. "Deal."

 We started to turn and head back to the kitchen when I said "Oh but one more thing."

"What?"

A teasing smile spread across my lips. "Were you actually jealous of Cayden for a minute back there?"

Alex's face hardened and he grimly said "I don't want to talk about it."

"Really though?" I pushed him, "Cayden? You were jealous over Cayden?"

"I don't want to talk about it!" He hissed and then did an about-face and marched into the kitchen.

I kept grinning at his back for a moment before deciding that I should probably join him and get this disastrous task over with.

"Here we go." I sighed and dragged my feet back toward what was certain to be a hellish afternoon.



To be continued next week! Thanks for reading!

Love,
Ryssa

Call of Doody: Part Two

Here it is, my intrepid readers! The next installment in our tale, the Call of Doody!

Call of Doody: Part Two

"A cigarette?" I asked. "Why do you have a cigarette?"

Alex and I were seated across from each other at the kitchen table, a legal pad and a pen in front of each of us, along with a pie tin that Alex thought would make a good ashtray. He had put on a visor and was currently struggling with the lighter he held up to the acrid Marlboro hanging from his lips. 

"A lot of great writers smoked." He mumbled around the cigarette, still fumbling with the lighter. "Mark Twain. Albert Camus. Frank Zappa. That sexy guy who wrote Secret Window."

"Here." I said, holding out my hand for the lighter. He handed it to me and I quickly wedged off the child safety tab with my pen and handed it back. It lit up immediately this time.

"Thanks, babe." Alex mumbled as he held it to the cigarette between his lips and took a deep drag, which culminated in a comically enormous hacking fit. I just watched, entertained.

"That 'sexy guy who wrote Secret Window' was Johnny Depp. And it was a fictional movie, you know that right?" I said, trying to hide my bemusement. "And why does it looked like you've already smoked half of it? When did that happen?"

Alex wiped at the tears that were now streaming from his eyes and set the cigarette in the pie tin. "I don't know, I didn't smoke it."

"Then who did?" I asked instead.

"I don't know." His voice sounded like gravel. "Cayden must have, I guess."

My nose wrinkled. "Cayden? What the--you got that thing from Cayden? That's so gross, dude! Get it out of your mouth, what's wrong with you?!"

"What?" Alex asked, looking genuinely perplexed by my reaction. "It's just Cayden."

"Exactly." I said "It's fucking Cayden."

Cayden was our upstairs neighbor and quite frankly I couldn't stand the guy. I mean, it's not like he was a bad person but he was the kind of guy who would take your wet laundry out of the machine at the laundromat and just throw it on the floor so he could put in his own load. He was the kind of guy who always had the sketchiest folks society had to offer coming and going from his place at all hours of the day and night, usually because they'd been invited to one of Cayden's frequent parties. He was the kind of guy who was always cornering you in the hallway so that he could regale you with the latest aggrandized piece of fiction he'd invented about himself. You know, the sort of stories I'm talking about:

"Bro, I must have laid 30 chicks last night. At the same time, man! Up top!"

"Bro, have you seen that thing at the fair? With the hammer and the bell and you hit it as hard as you can, right? Bro, I hit that shit so hard, I shit you not, the bell went flying through the air, man! Through the air! It hit some kid on the ferris wheel, they had to shut the ride down and everything!"

"Bro, this one time, I must have done like 50 lines of coke and drank 5 handles of this really great scotch. And man, this chick was blowing me and I was like, hacking into the FBI data base, right? Next thing I know, the place is surrounded by cops, man! I mean, surrounded! So I grab my airsoft gun and I pull my pants up--'cause this chick was still blowing me--and I walk out that the door and I point my air soft gun right at 'em and I say 'Playtime's over.' Just like that, man. Real badass. And those sons of bitches left, man! They fucking left! They thought that shit was real, can you believe it?!"

No, Cayden. No, I don't believe it. Or any of your other narcissistic bullshit anecdotes.

Am I petty? Maybe. I just know that whenever I'm around Cayden, my blood pressure seems to skyrocket.

"I mean, yeah, he's annoying." Alex was continuing. "But being annoying isn't a communicable disease, last I checked. I'm pretty sure they did a study on it and everything."

I cracked a smile. "Just don't expect me to kiss you any time soon. You've been contaminated."

Alex responded to that by licking the palms of his hands and then reaching across the table to swipe them harshly on my cheeks. I may have yelped in horror.

"There." Alex said, sitting back in his chair and grinning impishly. "Now we both are. You can kiss me now." He waggled his eyebrows and pouted his lips seductively.

"You are so gross!" I exclaimed, wiping the saliva from my cheeks with my sleeve. I was trying to sound stern but couldn't help laughing instead. "There's something seriously wrong with you."

"Are we going to write this story or are you going to keep flattering me?"

"I don't know. Are you done drooling on me?"

"For now."

"Ok then."

"I just thought you'd be happy I didn't go out and buy a pack."

"Yeah, but.....you couldn't have gotten an unused one?"

Alex shrugged. "He sold it to me for a dollar. Don't worry about it. This is just to get my creative juices flowing." Alex put the cigarette back in his mouth, picked up a pen and stared at the blank legal pad, his brow furrowed in concentration. I noted that he wasn't actually inhaling.

"I don't really see why all of this matters." I said after a few minutes of silence. "Neither of us can write and we're just trying to write the dumbest story we can think of anyway. Sounds like it should write itself."

"Hey, it's easy to write a bad story but it's not so easy to write a bad story that no one will like. Tons of bad stories end up becoming popular. Have you even heard of 50 Shades of Gray?"

"Yeah, I guess that's a fair point."

"And come on, you can write. You read enough, you got a degree in English. You use weird words like 'schism'. You just have to apply yourself." He reached across the table for my hand and gave it a squeeze. I squeezed back.

"Ok, I'll....do my best?"

Alex smiled and sat back in his chair. "That's the spirit! So where do we start?"

I shrugged. "You're asking the wrong guy."

"You have a degree in English!" Alex enunciated each word slowly, clearly frustrated with my lack of cooperation. 

I folded my arms across my chest and glowered, turning away from him. "If you mention my English degree one more time, I swear to god...."

"Well, what the hell did you learn?!" He was raising his voice now. "Isn't this all you studied?"

"I graduated with the lowest GPA possible!" I said, raising my voice to match his. "I barely paid attention! I just went to college to get my parents off my back, you're acting like you don't know this!"

"Yeah, but you had to have learned something while you were there! What, did you just dick around all day?"

"Yes Alex, that's exactly what I did, actually." I said, tersely. "And I was usually dicking around with you."

Alex didn't seem to know what to say to that. He just kept glaring at me for a minute before his expression softened and he let out a long breath.

"It is what it is, ok?" I said, softening my tone this time. "I can't go back and change it and this has to be done by tomorrow so let's just....let's just work with what we have, ok?"

Alex picks up on my cue to drop it and just says "Ok."

"Alright." I begin, calmer now. "So we need characters. A good guy and a bad guy."

"Right." says Alex. "And it's a military game, so they should be in the military."

"Right." I affirm. Then a thought. "...Or should they?"

Alex smiles, following me. "Yeah. Who says they need to be in the military?"

"Who says the military needs to have anything to do with it? We're trying to make the worst Call of Duty game ever, right?"

"Right!" Alex is quiet for a second and then he snickers. "You know what we should call it?"

"What?"

"Call of Doody. Doody. Like poop."

I laugh, in spite of myself. "That's so juvenile."

"That's why it's perfect!"

"Ok," I said, still laughing. "So let's work from there. What happens in Call of Doody?"

At the word 'doody'' we burst into a fit of snickers again.

"Ok, Ok...we have to stop doing that." I said, still snickering.

"Alright. Well obviously this game needs to be about poop." Alex said. "What if we did like...a character who was a giant cyborg sewer rat who shoots at people with his poop gun?"

I inclined my head thoughtfully. "Hm...maybe. That might actually be kind of cool though. What else have you got?"

"That's it."

"Oh." Well shit, now I had to throw out an idea. "Um...ok. How about...um....there's a toilet."

Alex waited for me to keep going. "Ok. And?"

"And....." A long pause. "There's.....a kid.....getting potty trained?"

Alex nodded thoughtfully. "That sounds pretty boring. It might work. Have you got anything else?"

"Um...maybe it's about a plumber?"

"Ok."

"And....he has a brother."

"And does he rescue a princess from Bowser at the end?"

"Oh yeah, that's the Mario brothers."

"Yeah. A plumber might work though. Like he takes his work very seriously."

"Yeah. And you just go around a sewer fixing pipes and stuff."

"It still has to be a shooter though." Alex pointed out.

"Right. Well maybe he has a.....sewage gun. And he.....shoots..........rats or something."

Alex nodded again. "Yeah....yeah, this could work. See, I told you you can write!"

I smiled , feeling a bit pleased with myself.

"It should have something offensive though, just to guarantee that people will hate it." Alex was saying thoughtfully. "Like maybe we should bring in Adolph Hitler or something."

"Do you have some secret desire to live out The Producers or something?"

"No, but think about it. We want people to hate it. What if they hate it so much they want it banned? That would be perfect!"

"Not Adolph Hitler though." I said, shaking my head. "That's been done to death. I don't think anyone really cares anymore."

"Well what if we made him.....holy shit, Mark, what if we made the main character Joe the Plumber?"

I screwed up my face, puzzled. "Who?"

"Remember? That guy who was famous for like a week when John McCain ran for president? And he keeps trying to stay relevant by saying ridiculous shit from time to time?"

"Oh yeah." I said slowly, remembering. "Is he controversial?"

"Well maybe not, but we'll do a parody of him. Make it super political, something that everyone will hate. Some games have something for everyone to love, we'll have something for everyone to hate."

"That's kind of genius, Alex."

He bowed his head in mock humility. "Why thank you, Mark."

"Alright, awesome." I was starting to feel some genuine enthusiasm about this whole thing for the first time. "Now we just have to hammer out the details. Shouldn't take too long."

And then there was a knock at the door. Five knocks, followed by two shorter ones. Shave and a haircut. That could only mean one thing. Alex and I looked at each other, despair written on our faces, and said it in unison:

"Fucking Cayden."



Stay tuned for Chapter 3! Same Bat Time! Same Bat Channel!

Love,
Ryssa

A Public Service Announcement

Well, you may or may not have noticed that I neglected to post at all yesterday. I've been doing some thinking (I do that sometimes) and I think I may have over shot with a goal of writing every day. When I first got the idea for this blog, I only cared about writing and didn't care if that writing was any good or not. At least...I thought I didn't care.

Apparently, however, I do because that Bam! Boo! haiku has been getting further and further under my skin since I posted it. That just isn't what I want this blog to be. If the majority of entries are just mindless pieces of turd that I churn out in 5 minutes because that's all the time I have, then what's the point? Any idiot can do that.

I thought I just needed to get in the habit of writing, but I don't. I do write. I write all the time. But I don't write stories which are what I really want to be writing. And unfortunately, stories take a bit of time. And if I were to write a story or a chapter of a story, every single day, I literally wouldn't have time to do anything else. At least, not if I also cared about quality. Which I do. A lot. Possibly too much.

So what I'm trying to say is that--regretfully--I won't be posting to this blog every day. However, I am going to aim for posting once a week, which I think is doable while still being challenging. But the good news is, I'll be posting more stuff that might actually be worth reading and the last thing I want to do is waste anyone's time with mindless nonsense. Lord knows, we have enough of that assaulting our senses every day, amirite? Quality over quantity and all that.

So with that said, I'm aiming to have the second chapter of Call of Doody up on Thursday at the latest (I already have a large chunk of it written, so it might be sooner.)  I'll see you then! And thanks for sticking with me on this mission, comrades. I salute you.

Love,
Ryssa

Bam! Boo!

Originally my plan for tonight was to continue yesterday's story Call of Doody. But let's be real here. I worked late, I'm tired now and the last thing I want to do is post something on the internet that I wrote in a sleep-deprived stupor. Ergo, I'm going to keep it short and sweet tonight in order to reduce the odds of embarrassment as much as possible. 

I've decided to write a haiku. This haiku is about my bamboo plant.

BAM! BOO!

Tall, green and growing
Alive against every odd
I love this damn thing


Is it my best work? God, I hope not. But hey, I said my goal was to write. And with so many days in a year, they're not all gonna hit it out of the park. I'll be happy if one does, to be honest. Making it a habit is an important part of this process, so for now I'm going to be content with the fact that at least I didn't do nothing and I'm not going to beat myself up over it. Hakuna Matata.

Good night!

Love,
Ryssa

Call of Doody

Welcome to my first real post! 

I'll be using writing prompts for a lot of these posts (because I haven't been inspired much on my own or else I wouldn't be doing this) and this one is from the Reddit community /writingprompts. The prompt is "For some reason you are now responsible for the story of the next Call of Duty - since you already have the money from all the preorders, you decide to not longer give a shit, and you write something ridiculous. People love it."

If you have any thoughts or constructive criticism, feel free to let me know in the comments! 

Call of Doody

 I hung up the phone with numb fingers. Alex was standing to my left, watching me for a moment before raising his eyebrows and holding his palms up, as if to say "Well?!"

"That was JR on the phone." I said distractedly.

"I know it was JR." Alex said, "What did he say? What happened?"

"He said..." I paused, still having trouble understanding what I'd heard myself. "He said he wants me to write the story for the next Call of Duty game."

Alex waited, probably to see if I was joking or not. I was at a loss for words so I just sat there and looked up at Alex who was still standing over me, waiting for the punchline. Finally, his face contorted into an expression best described as a mix between confusion and suspicion and he said "What now?"

"JR wants me to write the story for the next Call of Duty game." I reiterated.

"Why in the hell would he ask you to do that? Don't they have people who get paid to do that?"

I stretched out my arms in a shrug and said "Yeah, but I guess there's been some sort of upheaval in the writing department. Some sort of internal schism--"

"In English, please?" Alex cut in.

"Oh Christ, Alex, read a book, would you?" I continued before he could respond,"There was a falling out between the writers and JR and they all went on strike."

Alex scoffed. "Your uncle not playing well with others? I'm shocked. Why doesn't he just hire writers from some other company?"

"He said he doesn't have time. They're already way behind schedule and he says that professional writers care too much about research and brainstorming and all that other--and I'm quoting him here-'lame ass pussy shit'."

Alex rolled his eyes "Yeah, writers are funny that way."

"Well anyway, he said he needs the story by tomorrow. And he said he knows I have an English degree and I owe him one from when he bought me that trip to London last year--"

"I thought he said that was a college graduation present?"

I lowered my eyes and stared at my hands. "Yeah, so did I."

"God, he is such a dick, Mark. Why do you even talk to him still?"

"I don't know. I mean, yeah, he's an asshole but he's been there for me through some tough shit--"

"Like what?" Alex interrupted me again, "How exactly did he help you through tough shit? His idea of helping you was throwing money at you and then holding it over your head whenever he needed a 'favor' from you."

"He's still my uncle, ok?" My face was getting hot. Alex wasn't telling me anything I didn't already know but it still hurt to hear it out loud. It's true that my uncle was manipulative and self-serving but standing up for myself was never one of my strong suits. I didn't need to be reminded that I had gelatin where my spine should be.

"Plus,"Alex railroaded on. Once he started in on JR, there wasn't much you could do to stop him. "Didn't he serve time for embezzling from that fundraiser for poor kids?"

"He apologized for that."

"Oh sure, after he spent all the money on parties at his yacht."

"Dude--"

"Speaking of, did he even mention if he would pay you for doing this?"

"Yes! Yes, actually he did!" I threw out the number JR had given me.

"Are you kidding me?!" Alex was really incensed now. "That's slave wages! This guy uses money for toilet paper and that's all he can offer you?!"

"Well...yeah, I guess. He didn't really give me any time to talk or negotiate or....say anything really."

"That fucking guy..." Alex put his fists on his hips and glanced wildly around the room as if looking for something to punch.

"Well he said they haven't gotten as many pre-orders as they expected and that's all they can spare. But he's paying me upfront. He said he'd transfer the money to my account immediately."

Alex was dubious. "Oh really? Let me see your phone."

I handed it over and Alex quickly checked my bank account balance.

"Huh. Holy shit, he actually did something he said he would do." he said, sounding mystified.

"Yeah. I guess that means I'm obligated to write it....right?"

"You don't even play video games, Mark. How are you supposed to write one?"

"I don't even write, Alex! I only got an English degree because I didn't know what else to major in!"

Alex knelt in front of me and took my hands in his. "I know, I know." I was starting to get upset but Alex sat up a little taller on his knees so he could press his forehead against mine and gave me a reassuring smile, his anger at my uncle seemingly dissipated for the moment. I smiled back but I still didn't know what I was going to do.

"Can you help me?" I asked, my voice giving away more desperation than I would like. "You play a lot of video games."

Alex let out a little laugh and gave me a quick kiss "Dude, I play RPGs and fantasy games. Shooters are a whole different animal."

"They can't be that different." I retort.

"They are. Shooters have no heart. They barely even have a story to begin with." Then Alex's eyes lit up and seemed to look through me instead of at me. I knew that look. "Although...."

I waved a hand in front of his eyes to get his attention. "Although, what?"

His eyes snapped back to mine "I think I know how we can get back at your uncle."

"I...I didn't know we were trying to get back at him to begin with."

"Yes! He can't keep using you like this!" Alex stood back up and his voice grew louder and faster, like it usually did when he got like this. "I know what we can do! We'll get a whole bunch of rich guys to invest in this game, we'll sell a ton of pre-orders and then we'll write the absolute worse story line in the history of video games! Then when it tanks, we just keep all the money from the investors and the pre-orders, change our names and assume new identities in Bermuda."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "Isn't that the plot of The Producers?"

He hesitated for a second, thinking "...Huh. Yeah, I guess it is."

"And don't they end up in prison?"

"Whatever, we'll iron out the details later."

"Alex, going to prison for fraud is not going to get back at my uncle."

"It will if we ruin his company and make them look like amateurs!"

"Well if we want to do that, why don't we just write a shitty game that's guaranteed to tank and leave it at that?"

"Wait, I have a better idea!" Alex continued as if he hadn't heard me. "We'll just write the worst game ever, let JR's company make it and release it and just let them look like idiots when it doesn't sell a single copy!"

"That's literally what I just said, Alex."

"Well it's a good idea!" He grabbed my hands again and pulled me into a hug. "Let's get writing! This is going to be a blast!"




To be continued tomorrow!

Love,
Ryssa