Dawn of a New Day 4

(Hasselhoff’s point-of-view)

“Tony is…”  Dawn trails off.  I understand where she probably doesn’t want to say anything negative but would have difficulty finding positive descriptions.

“You mentioned a couple things before.  First, you said he likes to be called The Seer, but I don’t remember anyone calling him that tonight.”

“Well, he does like to be called The Seer.  It doesn’t mean anyone does.”

“And, uh,” I start, my finger finding a hole in the couch, which I probably make worse by pulling at the fabric.  “You also said that he’d reveal his plan tonight, and I know just as a little now as I did before the night began.”

“I think my…uh…hope was that he had some sort of organized plan that he was finally going to reveal now that we were all together.  That didn’t happen.  So, I’m at a loss there.  Maybe he has something planned, but we talked briefly before you came up, and he didn’t give me any indications that he knows what the hell he’s doing with this group.”

“Sounds great.  And, The Seer?”

“He can see things,” Dawn answers with a shrug.  “He knew that something was going to happen the other night that would lead to us finding our potential sixth person.  It isn’t always clear, and he didn’t know what it was but had a feeling of the approximate location.”

“Was he there that night?”

“Yeah.  He was watching.”

“So,” I start, feeling frustrated but not wanting to, wishing everything Dawn said would be perfect and insightful.  “What does it all mean?  What does any of this mean?  What are we doing?”

“Well, I’m thinking that Tony really has no idea.  He wants to be a leader, wants to head up this group and do great things.  But, in reality, he has no idea what to do.  I mean, there aren’t any guidebooks on this, you know?  I’ve been wondering if he is more appearance with no substance, and, tonight, it didn’t help anything.  I really really really thought that everything would come together tonight.  I’m thinking maybe we should meet away from the group – maybe with Dusk – to see if we can figure things out.”

“So, you think Dusk in legit?”

“Yes.  His stupor is because he can’t handle the gatherings anymore, but, at the same time, he doesn’t want to leave the group in case something happens.  He just wasn’t as optimistic as me.”

“And the other three?”

“Tony has a gift, but he’s not a leader.  I’m not big fans of Brad and Janet.  I think we need a reorganization of the group.”

I sit on the couch, feeling defeated yet strangely optimistic that things might get better.  Most of all, I’m just feeling tired and really want to go to bed.

“Whatever you think we need, I’m in.”

Dawn of a New Day 3

(Hasselhoff’s point-of-view)

With the last tingle fading off my lips, Dawn and I sit down on the couch.  She has candles lit around the living room and the street lights shining in through the blinds, keeping it dark and intimate…actually the intent was probably to keep this meeting secretive, especially if anyone was keeping an eye on the place.  From the outside, it should just look like she is out for the night or relaxing in the muted glow of the votives, but I’m not sure if the candlelight can be seen from the street.

“What you saw tonight,” Dawn starts with a sigh.  “That’s pretty much what this group does together.  It seems more like a few outcasts banding together to not feel alone or a few people thinking it would be cool to be outcasts…”

“Brad and Janet, I presume…”

Dawn chuckles an agreement, and I see the outline of her head nodding in the light. 

“You see, I don’t know what each person brings to the table, what they’re supposed to be doing.  I don’t know if everyone has seen something, so it is assumed that they have some sort of gift or if something specific has been demonstrated.  Honestly, with you, I know you saw something.  I don’t know if you are just resistant to some supernatural powers that allows you to see things as they are and remember them or if there is more to it than that.  Brad and Janet…they just appeared one day.  I don’t know what caused their inclusion into the group.  Tony doesn’t really talk about them in any supernatural context.  I truly think he has brought them along because they think Tony is mysterious and cool, and he gets off on that.  Sometimes, I wonder if that’s why we don’t really talk strategy or anything.  Maybe, it’s because they are not really one of us, and he’d prefer hanging out as a ringleader rather than form an actual functioning group.  Dusk…”

She trails off and shifts in her seat.  I hear another long sighhhhhhhhh.  He’s obviously a drunk, but….

“There are two ways to go about this.  You have a gift, and you can embrace it.  Or, you have a gift, and you can let it destroy you.  I’m trying to embrace my gift.  I want to do something good with it.  If I’m an outsider or weird or different, I really could give a fuck, you know?  Dusk has something.  It’s there.  I can see it, feel it.  But, he has no idea what to do with it and is letting it destroy him from the inside out.  I can’t remember when I last saw him sober.  I don’t know what he can do or to what extent.  I think he feels trapped.  I think he feels like he doesn’t want to be in the group but, at the same time, has nowhere else to go.  He doesn’t want to be alone, but he doesn’t want to be with us.  I don’t know.  I think there’s something there, something worth saving.  I just don’t know how to do it or what it is.”

She obviously thinks she has some sort of gift.  She knows I was able to see something.  That leaves just one person…the ringleader of this group.

“Then, what’s your take on Tony?” I ask.

Dawn of a New Day 2

(Hasselhoff’s point-of-view)

I stood, completely paralyzed, my mouth moving but unable to say anything.  A tingling sensation continues to race up and down my lips, the lasting effects of a surprise kiss from the most beautiful woman I have ever met.  I want to say something witty, to show that I can hang with her and not be in complete awe, but my mind remains cluttered, unable to string a couple letters together to make any sort of a word.  I’m afraid to say anything now because I know I will sound like a complete jackass, probably coming off like Boris Karloff’s original portrayal of Frankenstein’s Monster.

“You okay?” Dawn asks with a slight smile, which tells me she knows exactly what’s going on with me.

“Uhhhhh…,” I finally manager, sounding even dumber than I had anticipated.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  Are you…are you drunk?”

“What?”  Her smile grows larger.  Thank God.  Thought I may have offended her at first.  “I don’t drink alcohol.  I don’t think it’s really smart if we’re doing what we’re supposed to be doing, you know?”

I nod my head, but I hadn’t really thought about that.  What if this motley group ran into something supernatural in the evening?  They would be in no condition whatsoever to try to do anything about it.  This doesn’t count the fact that I have no idea what this group would do anyway because it’s not like any strategies or roles or anything were discussed, so I have a feeling it would be six people staring at each other with their pants quickly filling with shit.

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean to throw you off.  Don’t really know what came over me.  I’ve been in this group for a little bit, and it’s really nice to feel a connection with someone.  To be honest, I think each member of the group may have a usable skillset, so it’s good to be together, but I think they’re just going about it the wrong way.  You come in, and I feel like you’re someone who can make a difference, who gives me hope at a time when I was thinking it was time to turn my back on this whole project and try to fall back into a normal existence.”

“Why don’t you try to just be normal?” I ask.  “Seems like the blissful ignorance would be a good thing.”

“Sometimes.  But, I’m not blissfully ignorant.  I’d still know.  And,” she takes a deep breath and shakes her head.  “I have a feeling that it would constantly find me.  Safety in numbers, I guess.  The day I’m confronted, I think it would be better to have multiple people on my side rather than trying to figure this thing out on my own.”

“So, what are the positives of the group?  Aside from having numbers…,” I start and shrug, trying to find some good in this.

“That’s what I brought you up here for.  I want to discuss the group with you….honestly, knowing we will not be interrupted.”

Dawn of a New Day

(Your friendly Host, The Ghost)

So, I’ve started writing my own fictional work – called Worm.  I’m liking it.  Digging the fictional stuff.  Been taking up some of my time as I develop the story.  It’s so strange doing your own fictional work out of your head vs. writing something that someone else is telling you.  Sometimes, it just flows like crazy.  Sometimes, you stare at the screen looking for the correct word, wondering where the story is going to take you next.  When doing the ghost-writing, I, at least, don’t have to worry about where the story is headed because someone else is telling me that.

Anyway, I haven’t posted for a little while and received a message that I won’t be getting any future payments if I don’t start writing Hasselhoff’s story some more.  I apologize for the delay in the next bit of story.  It’s all me.  Hasselhoff had the latest piece to me in plenty of time to keep things going, but, when I log into the laptop, I find myself writing my own fiction instead.  I will make sure to keep this going.  I apologize.

(Hasselhoff’s point-of-view)

So, I pretended to leave the bar and disappeared into the shadows for a few minutes, watching and waiting, making sure that if any of the Elite Cadre came out of the bar that I would not be seen.  I don’t know what Dawn wants to tell me, but it obviously is not something she wants the rest of the group to know.  I wonder if the rest of the group is suspicious of her because she wouldn’t be so secretive otherwise.  I mean, it would just make sense that she may want to get to know the new guy better.  I’m excited and nervous.

I hear Tony Orlando’s boisterous laugh and try to slink back into the shadows as much as possible.  He appears from the doorway of Dawn’s apartment building.  Someone was with him, but I didn’t see who before they disappeared.  Tony is coming my way, and my heart is racing, sweat beading on my forehead, my hands beginning to shake.  He passes just ten feet from me but didn’t notice me standing there.  I stand completely still and hold my breath.  I guess it works. 

After Tony Orlando disappears around a corner, I wait another four minutes to make sure his head doesn’t pop back around, having actually noticed me in the shadows.  Nothing.  I inch along the wall towards the corner and slowly peak my head around.  Nothing.  Not a creature is stirring.  Not even a Gypsy.

I break cover and walk across the street to Dawn’s apartment building.  The security door is propped open with a door stop, which I kick out of the way once I’m through the door.  I head back to her apartment and calm my nerves, breathing deeply quite a few times, smoothing out my shirt, running my fingers through my hair.  I don’t know what I was thinking.

I reach for her door with my fist, about to knock, when the door opens to an unsurprised Dawn.  She motions for me to come in quickly, which I do.  She closes the door and locks it.

“So, what’s going on?” I ask.

She walks up to me without saying a word and plants her lips on mine.  I never had and never will have a kiss so passionate and right.  Everything left my head, as I just enjoyed my existence with her.  For all I knew, the world around us had disappeared.  If it did, I would have been all right with that.

An Elite Cadre 5

(Hasselhoff’s point-of-view)

I look over at Dawn, who offers me the most subtle of smiles and a gentle raise of the eyebrows.  Her eyes are sparkling, even in the dank darkness of this college bar.  She is drawing me in, which might be her main role in this group, anyway, to make someone like me say yes no matter what is being asked of me.  I have a good feeling about her, and I’m hoping her comment that we’ll talk later will cement that feeling.

“I’m in,” I say, as Tony Orlando and I shake hands, squeezing hard – Tony to show his dominance and me to show that I’m not going to take any shit.

“Huzzah,” he says as we release from the shake, and it makes me want to rescind that sentiment immediately.  I don’t know why, but the bombastic use of “huzzah” irritates the shit out of me.  I want to swing harder than I’ve ever swung before to see if I can knock out a few of his teeth, turn from the group, and forget this night ever happened.  It might seem a little extreme, but, something about his reaction, it just got under my skin quickly.

The rest of the group activity centered around drinking.  There was no mention of a plan of the group’s next (or first) move or how our different abilities played off each other.  There was drinking (I did not drink any alcohol, so the more they drank, the more irritating everyone became…nothing more irritating than being around drunks when you’re sober). 

Dawn didn’t get drunk, so it was nice to have someone clear-headed.  Dusk was drunk before he even arrived and just sat in a stupor.  I don’t recall ever hearing him speak, which was fine with me.  I’d much prefer the quiet, sulking drunk to the boisterous irritant.

I wonder if the rest of my days were going to be spent sitting in a bar, asking myself what the fuck I’m doing here, hoping/wishing that Dawn’s kind eyes would turn into something more.  After three hours, the party disperses, all at the expense of the group’s supposed leader.  Is he some kind of rich weirdo?  Or, is this not the norm?

The group goes its separate ways.  Now, I don’t expect anything grandiose, but, not only did I not really get a hello from anyone, but no one really says good-bye either.  I feel invisible.  Maybe that’s a good thing.

Dawn leans in to say her good-bye, saying the good-bye loud enough for Tony Orlando to hear, and whispers in my ear to go up to her apartment in fifteen minutes.  Make sure no one sees me.

Of course, I’ll do whatever she asks, but all I want to do at this point is sleep.

(Your friendly host)

Speaking of sleep, I have had some of the weirdest dreams since taking on this job.  It’s really affecting me somehow.  I’m not a big vampire person, and bloodsuckers are suddenly invading my dreams each night.  The weird thing – he hasn’t even said a word about vampires yet.  Of course, I’m curious as to how his vampiric encounters will play out.  I assume the group will encounter a nest or some sort of menace, but we’ll see….

I don’t know if it’s because I’m doing a little less “factual” writing…I mean, I’m writing what he tells me happened, but I’m able to be a little more creative with it than on any of my previous jobs…, but I suddenly have an idea for my own story.  Not quite sure the tone of it yet or how I’m going to go about it, but, while I’m doing this, I think I’m also going to start my first fictional work.

I’m fuzzy on what’s going to happen, but I came up with the title of “Worm” – going to be about some reclusive kid, maybe doesn’t talk, plays in the dirt with worms, so he got the title nickname.  Not sure the direction of the story that’s going to get this going or what obstacles he may face, but I picture a music box figuring into the story somehow.  Wondering if I should also write these online in a blog-style or keep it to myself for now.  May just keep it to myself. 

Well, I’m off to work.  Pizzas won’t deliver themselves.

An Elite Cadre 4

(Hasselhoff’s point-of-view)

“This is the group,” Tony Orlando says, giving me the most nondescript answer I think I’ve ever received.

“Is this just some social group?  I mean, do you just come here and get drunk or what?  You could’ve chosen anyone for this.  Why would you choose me to join this?”

“We all have….gifts….you might say,” he responds.  “We’re able to break into a world most people never see.  With you, the Gypsy has this hold over everyone and made a whole group of people not remember this extraordinary event that they saw.  You, on the other hand, remember it.  You have an ability that most people just dream of.”

In my head, I’m thinking that maybe this is like the supernatural Mystery Men or something.

Wait a minute.  Maybe it’s just something in my head, but I pictured this taking place well before Mystery Men came out.  I don’t think you were thinking that.

Well, uh, hey, I can’t remember everything as it happened.  I’m doing my best.

Mystery Men came out in 1999.

Okay.  So, Mystery Men wasn’t out yet.  Big deal.  Still, it’s the best comparison I can come up with. 

Did you read the comic?  Not sure when that came out….

The what…?

Nevermind.

Can we move on, please?

“Many people do not know this, but there is a lot of Supernatural activity happening in this area.  Some of it is harmless, but…”  Tony shakes his head, his eyes drooping, as if all the sadness in the world has just been placed on his shoulders.  “Some of it is quite evil, quite serious.  My goal is to get enough people together to be able to go up against the evil that is around here.”

“Is it just around here?  I mean, why here?”

“I assume the evil is all around the world.  But, I know it’s here.  This is where I live, so I want to take care of it here before moving anywhere else.  If we can’t take care of it here, I don’t see how we’ll do any good anywhere else.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Um…,” Tony starts, scratching his chin, looking to the ceiling, then the table, and then back at me.  “Beats me,” he says with a shrug and a sheepish smile.

“Then…,” I start, but I have no follow-up.  I don’t know what to ask.  I mean, I’d think he’d form this group with some plan in mind.  Sitting in a bar, drinking, listening to music – it can be great fun when in the right company, but it’s not doing anything to battle evil.

“There’s no guidebook for this,” he says in his defense.  “I can’t do research and find ways to battle evil forces.  We pretty much need to keep our eyes and ears open to see if we can spot any clues to maybe lead us in the right direction.  We get together occasionally, hoping all our supernatural abilities might conjure something or to give any updates on leads we may have.  To be honest, it’s been pretty slow-going, but it ‘s not going to stop me from trying.  It’s not like we’re getting taunting messages from a super-villain or something to at least know what we’re up against.  All we know is that some weird shit happens, and we think we have the ability to get to the bottom of it.  We’re just missing that first piece that’ll get us going in the right direction.”

I feel kind of bad for being pessimistic and thinking this is just a waste of time.  Maybe he is doing something worthwhile.  Maybe I could actually be part of a group that uncovers some supernatural secrets, the kind of thing only seen in comic books and movies.  Maybe we could be the supernatural Justice League going against the supernatural Legion of Doom.  If anything, I’ll get to spend some time with Dawn.

“So,” he says, placing his elbows on the table, lowering his head a little, and looking straight into my eyes.  “Are you willing to join us?”

An Elite Cadre 3

(Hasselhoff’s point-of-view)

“Well, I have a feeling you know everything,” I respond to Tony Orlando’s question, trying to be a little bit of an asshole, knowing his question was just his way of asking me to tell him about myself.  I don’t really have anything to say, though, not thinking I was all that interesting until the event of the previous night.

“Yes.  I do know a lot.  I make it my business to know everyone’s business,” he says with a straight face, and I begin to look around for the video cameras.  I mean, come on.  Am I really on some cheesey tv show being put on by students on a local station?

I once went with someone I knew to a practice for a tv show he was going to be on.  I remember these two guys thinking they were fucking hilarious but not being impressed myself.  My friend wasn’t impressed either, as he decided that one episode was enough for him, being cleverly written off the show by saying he showed up at the wrong university.  Whatever.  But, if that was the quality of work done by the university tv station, then I wouldn’t be surprised if I was on some sort of Candid Camera show.

“I actually like The Monkees more than The Beatles,” I say, having no idea what to say.

Tony Orlando appears to consider this fact, rubbing his chin in between his thumb and index finger, nodding his head slightly.  He looks over to Janet and Brad, who could’ve been anywhere but here, not caring about me or the intended conversation.  Tony’s jaw is slack, as if he is about to say something and then closes his mouth.

“Octopus’ Garden,” he says.  I’m not sure what he means by reciting Ringo’s opus.  Is it supposed to be insightful or mysteriously intelligent?  No clue.

As I start to think I’m in Hell, Dawn appears again, dragging someone behind her.  I assume it is Dusk that she is pulling along.  She leads him to an empty chair and lets go.  He slouches into the chair, melting into it, his head hanging down, his eyes hidden by sunglasses.

Some of his excitement waning, Tony Orlando introduces Dusk with a dismissive wave.  He shows even less interest in me than Brad and Janet.  Tony sighs, wishing for this to go so much better than it was.  I’m sure he was hoping that they would come off as some cool group that I would cut my ear off to be a part of, but, aside from wanting to be around Dawn, I have no other desire to continue hanging around.

“This is the group,” Tony says with outstretched hands, trying to bring back some bravado that has been sucked out of him.

“We’ll talk afterward,” Dawn whispers to me.  I almost didn’t hear her, as the music in the place kicked into gear with The Misfits song, “Teenagers From Mars.”  She probably figured that the music would keep her promise a secret from Tony.

“So,” I call to Tony.  “What the Hell is all this?”

An Elite Cadre 2

(from the perspective of Hasselhoff)

Tony Orlando approaches with a ridiculously fake, boisturous laugh.  Really deep and in short bursts.  He extends his hand as he comes towards me.

“Ha!  Ha!  Ha!  Haaaaa!”  Our hands clasp, and I believe my grip is tighter than his as he tries to exert his dominance, but I’m not having any of that.  “If it isn’t the Knight Rider.  So glad you decided to join us tonight.  Come.”

Our hands release.  Each has the markings of the other’s fingers and some puffy redness.  He leads me over to a table with six empty chairs, and I have the feeling they come here every night and always get the same table.  He offers me a specific seat (they also probably sit in the same chairs each night as well).

“Would you like something to drink?”  Why is he making his voice so deep?  What’s the purpose of this?  His voice wasn’t that deep when he made his Liberace-like entrace into Dawn’s apartment.

“Water,” I answer.

“Water?” he asks with a chuckle.  “We’re all adults here.  What would you really like?”

“Water,” I answer.

“Water,” he repeats.  “Well, I aim to please.”

He disappears to the bar, and someone sits to my right, while someone else sits across from him.  They don’t even realize I’m sitting there.  At least, they don’t acknowledge that I’m there.

The one next to me is a guy probably about my age.  He is wearing a red sweater that is tattered around the collar and the cuffs, as well as black pants (I think they may be leather).  The sleeve of the sweater has a couple safety pins in it.  I can’t tell from where I’m sitting, but I think he may be wearing some black eyeliner.  His hair is falling into his eyes, so I can’t be too sure.  I’m not sure if he’s trying to be punk or going more for the Robert Smith look.

The woman across from him looks like she may be a year or two younger.  She has straight black hair, deep red lipstick, black eyeliner, a plaid skirt over fishnet tights, and a holey button-down sweater over a faded black t-shirt.  She looks like she is going for some sort of weird mystique that I cannot pinpoint.  She’s attractive, but…I don’t know.  There’s just something manufactured about it – like she’s the Monkees of weirdness.  Except, I love the Monkees.

I wonder if Dawn is just decoy to get people interested.  Tony Orlando and these two just don’t seem like the kind of people Dawn would hang around with.  Something was a bit off about that.  Where was she?

Tony Orlando returns to the table with a water for me, a Bloody Mary for the woman, a Rum and Coke for the guy, and I have no idea what the hell he had for himself. 

“I was assured they make the best water in town,” he says, which I assume was supposed to elicit a laugh, but I have difficulty doing stuff like that, so I just stare back at him blankly.  “Brad.  Janet.  This is Knight Rider.  He is new to the group.  He survived the Gypsy.”

I don’t know if that bit of knowledge was supposed to impress them, but it didn’t phase them one bit.  They barely took the time to look in my direction, as they just stared into each other’s black-lined eyes instead.  Obviously, they are a couple and believe to be deeply in love, so in love that they cannot make time for anything else.  So…what are they doing here, I wonder.

Dawn finally appears, just as I’m wondering if I should get up and try to make a secretive escape.  My heart leaps immediately, and I feel a little more at ease.  Her face has some worry in it as she looks at the table.  The worry turns to annoyance when her eyes fall on Brad and Janet.

“Is Dusk with you?” Tony Orlando asks, scanning the room without moving his head, as his eyes move back and forth.

Dawn sighs and shakes her head.  “I’ll be right back.”

“That’s fine,” Tony Orlando says, as I am about to offer to go with her.  “That’ll give us a couple extra minutes to get to know the Knight Rider here.”

I slouch back in my chair, as Dawn exits.

“So,” Tony Orlando starts, taking a sip from his drink and settling into a normal voice.  “Tell me something I don’t know….”

An Elite Cadre

…and so, one night, as I sit on my couch playing with my…uh…Playstation2 (MLB ’11: The Show just came in – I’m a baseball fanatic), the telephone rings, and, snickering, Hasselhoff continues his story.

We left off where Hasselhoff was invited to meet the small group of people lead by The Seer (Tony Orlando) to see if they all fit in together…

(Hasselhoff’s point-of-view)

After I had left Dawn, I went to a couple classes and ate a couple meals, wondering what the hell was going to happen later that night when I met this group.  Dawn seemed fairly normal to me during our brief meeting, although a bit mysterious in the beginning, and Tony appeared to be a complete freak.  What else did I have in store?

I pull on my finest pair of jeans (the ones only slightly wearing in the knees and did not expose the color of boxers I was wearing).  I put a button-down long-sleeve shirt on over my blue Los Angeles Dodgers t-shirt.  I think the button-down shirt was an off-white or a cream.  When I finished getting checked, I look at my hair (What?  I never look at my hair…), and I realize that I’m trying to dress to impress Dawn.  I want her to be attracted to me.  It was easy to do when I wasn’t aware of it.  Now that I knew what I was doing, my heart starts to flutter around, and I over-analyze every strand of hair, which buttons to keep unfastened, which pocket to put my wallet in.

There’s a knock on my door as I reach for the doorknob to leave.  Strange.  I never have visitors.  I open the door to see Josh, who lives a few doors down.  I’ve talked with him on occasion, as we both play guitar.  He, though, plays guitar well.

“Hey,” he says, looking shocked – probably never saw me not look completely grungy.  “Um…we, uh, have been given the tv in the lounge for the night.  Wanted to know if you wanted to join us for a movie fest.”

“Oh,” I respond, finding it ironic that I get invited somewhere for the first time during my young college life and it happens twice on that day.  “I’m actually on my way out.  If I get back before you’re done…”

“Oh, okay.  Cool.  Um…,” he starts, his cheeks reddening.  “Do you mind if we borrow some of your films?”  Ah ha!!!

“Sure.  Knock yourself out.”

After choosing George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead, Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead II: Dead By Dawn, and Don Coscarelli’s Phantasm, Josh walks off, saying that he hopes to see me later.  I close my door and look at myself one last time, hoping that I’ll make a good impression and that my intention won’t be completely obvious to Dawn.  But, let’s face it.  She’s beautiful.  She probably expects it from everyone and gets it all the time, so I’ll just be another in the long line of puppies yelping for her attention.

It’s dusk.  It’s getting dark, but the sun is still visible just above the horizon.  The campus looks cool in this light, as the lamps are just beginning to glow in the campus green.  Some students are walking to and from night classes, but the green itself is pretty much empty.  During the day, unless the weather is nasty, the green is filled, so it’s definitely a different atmosphere.

The green lets out into the downtown area, and I immediately see a sign for The Basement.  I descend the steps, realizing that I haven’t really gone out to any of the local places like this, except for a coffee house/restaurant place that was holding poetry readings.  Josh read some of his poetry there.  I went twice for open mic night but never read any of my poems.  Good thing.  They suck.

I enter through the door.  The place is dark, with dimly lit lamps on the drywall.  Tables are placed around the big open space.  It looks like…..a basement. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see an exaggerated movement as Tony Orlando comes over to greet me…

Cliffhanger and Inconsistent

A part of me was hoping I could make take some time off from delivering pizzas, while I work on this project.  I mean, Hasselhoff was calling me once per week.  Each session pockets me Five Hundred in cash.  My take home from the pizza place is maybe slightly above that.

Well, I haven’t heard from him in a couple weeks now.  I’m all caught up on what he’s given me, but I have nothing left to do.  Each session is getting broken out in two or three blog posts.  I try to write when I can – the quicker I can write it, the fresher the story is in my mind.  It doesn’t always work out, though, especially since I was having troubles with my laptop after the last session.

I’m surprised that I’m actually wanting more of Hasselhoff’s story.  I wasn’t sure what to expect from that initial phone call.  I’m not sure where this thing is headed.  I don’t know what this early story has to do with him being a vampire hunter – I’m assuming he’s building to something.  Although I’m getting engrossed in his story, it doesn’t mean that I’m buying into what he’s saying.  I think he expects skepticism.  I don’t know – maybe he’s read these posts and isn’t liking how I’m portraying his story.

I don’t want to lose momentum.  I want to keep the story going.  However, I have nothing more to say at this point.

I guess, strangely, this is a plea to Hasselhoff.  Give me a call.  I want to continue this story.  Of course, if he really is a vampire hunter, he may be in a predicament right now and just can’t get to the phone.  I guess we’ll find out in time how all that’s working….

Until I hear something, have a great evening.