Sex scene caught on camera

Later that day, Sampson refuted Baden's claims, saying, "I stand firmly behind our determination of the cause and manner of death for Mr. Epstein. The cause is hanging, the manner is suicide." Baden later said, "Going over a thousand jail hangings, suicides in the New York City state prisons over the past 40-50 years, no one had three fractures." One year later, Jeffrey Epstein's death in a federal detention cell remains shrouded in mystery. Here are 7 key unanswered questions. On the first anniversary of Jeffrey Epstein's death, here are ten key unanswered questions. One year later, Jeffrey Epstein's death in a federal detention cell remains shrouded in mystery. Here are 7 key unanswered questions. Close. 42. Posted by. Quality contributor. 7 hours ago. One year later, Jeffrey Epstein's death in a federal detention cell remains shrouded in mystery. Here are 7 key unanswered questions. Update at 7:00 pm ET: U.S. Attorney General William Barr said in a statement that he was "appalled to learn that Jeffrey Epstein was found dead early this morning from an apparent suicide while in ... Epstein, 66, was found dead in his downtown Manhattan federal jail cell Aug. 10 as a result of suicide. Jeffrey Epstein appears in court in West Palm Beach, Florida, in 2008. Uma Sanghvi / Palm ... Jeffrey Epstein was found dead in a Manhattan prison cell one year ago today. Authorities ruled his death a suicide, but the idea that the nation's most notorious criminal could kill himself in ... One year later, Jeffrey Epstein's death in a federal detention cell remains shrouded in mystery. Here are 7 key unanswered questions. On the first anniversary of Jeffrey Epstein's death, here are ten key unanswered questions. Jeffrey Epstein's official cause of death was determined to be a suicide, according to an autopsy report released by the New York City medical examiner's office. On the morning of Jeffrey Epstein's death there was shouting and shrieking from his jail cell, a source familiar with the situation told CBS News. Corrections officers attempted to revive him ... The FBI and Department of Justice are launching investigations into the death of New York financier and convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein by apparent suicide in a Manhattan jail early ...

2020.08.10 22:50 Leather_Term Sex camera caught scene on

Paywall | 10 Aug 2020

Last week, in a wide-ranging interview with Axios reporter Jonathan Swan, President Donald Trump returned to a topic he controversially broached a year ago: The question of whether the financier Jeffrey Epstein actually committed suicide while imprisoned at the Metropolitan Correctional Complex in New York City on August 10, 2019.
When Swan asked about his recent messages of support for Ghislaine Maxwell, who was arrested in July on charges connected to Epstein's alleged trafficking of minors, Trump expressed concerned for Maxwell's safety:
Trump: Her friend or boyfriend [Epstein] was either killed or committed suicide in jail. She's now in jail. Yeah, I wish you well, I'd wish you well, I'd wish a lot of people well. Good luck. Let them prove somebody was guilty.
Swan: So you're saying you hope she doesn't die in jail? Is that what you mean by 'wish her well'?
Trump: Well, her boyfriend died in jail and people are still trying to figure out, how did it happen? Was it suicide? Was he killed? And I do wish her well. I'm not looking for anything bad for her. I'm not looking bad for anybody. And they took that and made it such a big deal—
Swan: I mean, she's a alleged child sex trafficker.
Trump: But all it is is her boyfriend died. He died in jail. Was he killed? Was it suicide?
The case of Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell has become a global cultural touchstone, so it isn't necessarily surprising that a large country's elected leader would publicly discuss it. But it is almost certainly unprecedented for an American president to openly speculate that an unknown party staged an infamous federal prisoner's suicide to conceal a murder.
Trump's remarks should erase any doubt about the president's ambivalence toward the official story of Epstein's death. They also underscore the larger story's grip on the minds and imaginations of Americans. Who, at this point, hasn't heard about Jeffrey Epstein?
A year after prison guards discovered an unresponsive Epstein kneeling on the floor of his cell, his death remains fundamentally unsettled. There are too many inconsistencies, too many missing records, too many unclear details. At the same time, the growing collection of evidence and literature is difficult to fully comprehend. Amazon sells more than 200 books about Epstein; his case has grown to include at least 24 civil lawsuits and three criminal prosecutions. It is unlikely that a single person could master the entire record.
To that end, Business Insider examined a series of discrepancies that complicate, and sometimes contradict, the official narrative of Epstein's death. Some are well-known, and others obscure. In isolation, none of them definitively prove how Epstein actually died. Taken together, however, they depict a truly anomalous event, one that may never be fully understood.
Discrepancy 1: The prison guards
Epstein's relationship with the prison guards assigned to patrol his cell block in the Special Housing Unit, or SHU, immediately came under scrutiny—in part because of the guards' failure to inspect Epstein's block at the required intervals, and in part because of evidence of prior communication, some of it hostile, between the guards and Epstein.
Those prison guards, Michael Thomas and Tova Noel, joined the MCC in 2007 and 2016, respectively. Their careers prior to August 2019 appear to have been unblemished.
Thomas' interactions with Epstein seem to have been fairly limited. He was one of the guards who responded to Epstein on July 23, when Epstein was found semi-conscious in his cell with bruising around his neck. Epstein reportedly told prison supervisors that his cellmate at the time, Nicholas Tartaglione, had assaulted him. Tartaglione has denied assaulting Epstein.
There isn't clear evidence that Thomas and Epstein exchanged more than a few words at all. Noel's history with Epstein is similarly sparse. One of her duties, according to a handwritten note later found in Epstein's cell, was delivering his meals.
On the night Epstein died, Thomas and Noel repeatedly logged patrol rounds without actually performing them, leaving the financier with zero supervision for approximately 10 hours and 40 minutes, according to court records.
Their behavior has not been fully explained. According to the federal indictment against them, Thomas and Noel browsed websites and took naps instead of patrolling the SHU in general and Epstein in particular. This stands out as the most egregious behavior, but the broader pattern is equally alarming.
For example: After prison officials deemed the July 23 incident an apparent suicide attempt, and transferred him to the SHU, protocol dictated that Epstein have a cellmate. That was initially true, after Epstein was placed on suicide watch, but after that expired, the prison transferred his cellmate elsewhere without replacing him. But Epstein was never supposed to lose his cellmate upon exiting suicide watch. Neither Thomas nor Noel have addressed this lapse in protocol.
Another example: Epstein had obtained access to implements with which he could harm himself. The fact that Epstein committed suicide is reason enough to wonder about the objects and tools to which he had access. The clearest example is a CPAP machine, which Epstein apparently used to treat sleep apnea. The device had a long cord and several feet of tubing, either of which could have been fashioned as a noose. With some modification, the cord could electrocute someone, too. Neither guard has addressed this, either.
A third example: Thomas and Noel did not preserve the evidentiary integrity of Epstein's cell, allowing others to enter and exit it without keeping track of who they were. This, again, clearly defied standard prison protocol. Neither has addressed this lapse.
Status: Noel and Thomas's criminal trial remains ongoing, with court proceedings delayed due to the coronavirus pandemic. Neither has testified.
Discrepancy 2: The visitor list
According to numerous news reports, Epstein met with a team of lawyers at MCC so frequently that he effectively monopolized an entire meeting room. While the identities of Epstein's legal team are no mystery, it's not precisely clear which attorneys visited their client in person.
Even less clear is whether Epstein met with anyone else. A week after Epstein died, several media outlets reported that he had repeatedly met, alone, with a young woman in one of the prison's visiting rooms. An attorney representing a different prisoner told Forbes he directly witnessed the pair enter one of the rooms on July 30, and speculated that she may worked for one of the firms representing Epstein.
This woman's identity, and the contents of her meetings with Epstein, remain a mystery. Epstein's former attorneys, and the prison itself, have repeatedly declined to answer questions about his visitors and other details of his prison stay.
Status: Unknown. Efforts to identify who exactly Epstein saw at the MCC have been fruitless, in part because the Bureau of Prisons has deflected questions about its protocol and because Epstein's attorneys do not respond to reporters' questions at all.
Discrepancy 3: The cell
At the time of his death, Epstein was housed in a prison cell in the wing known as 9 South, which contained one of the prison's two Special Housing Units. Photographs of the cell taken after prison officials removed Epstein's body depict an L-shaped room with slotted windows, accessed by a narrow hatch.
The conditions inside Epstein's cell at the time of his death are likely unknowable. The prison guards transported Epstein's body from the cell to a nearby hospital, and allowed other staffers to walk through and disturb the remaining objects within it. It is impossible to say, then, whether anything was removed from Epstein's cell or added after the fact.
The cell itself is still significant to the wider case, because it constrains the range of possible explanations. Despite the anomalous deletion of some security footage from the night of Epstein's death, it seems clear that nobody physically traversed the only door that accessed Epstein's block. Nor is there any evidence that someone accessed Epstein's cell via some other method, such as the cell's window.
This permits a handful of imaginable possibilities. The first, of course, is that Epstein did in fact commit suicide. A second possibility is that someone inside Epstein's cell block — e.g., another prisoner — escaped their own cell, infiltrated Epstein's, killed him, staged his remains to resemble a suicide, and returned to their cell, all without detection.
And then there's the third possibility: That Epstein was killed by an unknown third party, in a manner that investigators haven't determined or do not yet understand. This may sound outlandish, but the alternative was supposed to be impossible. The entire prison, and especially the SHU — from the layout of its cells to the construction of its beds to the fabric of its inmates' clothing — is designed in part to prevent self-harm in general and suicide in particular. Under those conditions, a suicide becomes definitionally suspicious.
Status: Unclear. The scene of Epstein's death was immediately disturbed by the prison guards and other responding personnel, and has almost certainly been cleaned up and reused for another prisoner. We may never know what Epstein's cell looked like at the time of his death.
Discrepancy 4: The handwritten note
Last year, 60 Minutes published several photos of Epstein's cell, including a close-up photograph of what appears to be a handwritten note composed by Epstein. The note reads:
[BLURRED OUT] kept me in a locked shower stall for 1 hr
Noel sent me burnt food.
Giant bugs crawling over my hands
The exact provenance and context of this letter is unclear, mainly because its presumed author is no longer living. 60 Minutes obtained a copy from an unnamed source, but it's unlikely that source knew much, either.
The contents of the letter are a different story. There are two key details worth discussing. The first is the blurred first word of the first line. 60 Minutes did not explain why this word, which appears to be the name of a prison staffer, is blurred out. Their source may have added the blurring before providing it to the program, or perhaps the program did so after the fact to protect the staffer's identity. The identity of this source has never been confirmed.
The second detail is the third line: "Giant bugs crawling over my hands." There are at least two ways to interpret these words. The first is the most straightforward: Epstein was complaining about large insects crawling over his hands. It is entirely plausible that this happened. The MCC, and especially 9 South, are notoriously infested with rodents and cockroaches, the latter of which are famous for their girth in New York City.
The second way is less straightforward, but still worth considering. The experience of giant bugs crawling over parts of one's body is commonly observed by people who consume certain mind-altering substances. Known as a "tactile hallucination," the particular effect of bugs crawling on (or under) one's skin is most frequently associated with methamphetamine and its variants, but can be induced by other hallucinogens, too.
The letter doesn't prove whether or not insects really crawled Epstein's hands. But it belongs to a larger pattern of inconsistent or unexplained behavior, beginning with the July 23 incident.
Remember that Epstein met with attorneys on a near-daily basis, and that he repeatedly expressed optimism about his chances in court. He never indicated, at least to his legal team, that he was inclined to injure himself. Remember, too, that Epstein apparently devised an ad-hoc system for paying other prisoners through the facility's commissary.
Epstein's apparent ability to bend the prison to his will is at least somewhat inconsistent with the syntax of the handwritten note, whose simplistic grammar and abbreviated vocabulary suggest its author wrote it under some kind of duress.
Status: Unclear. No official source, such Epstein's attorneys or federal prosecutors, have commented on the handwritten note, leaving its true meaning open to interpretation.
Discrepancy 5: The hyoid bone
Former New York City Medical Examiner Michael Baden, who was hired by Epstein's brother, has repeatedly alleged that the fracture pattern of Epstein's hyoid bone is more suggestive of strangulation than suicide.
The hyoid is a U-shaped bone situated below and behind the human chin. It is forensically significant because its fracture is much more commonly associated with being strangled that it is with committing suicide by hanging. Still, it is not unheard-of for victims of suicide to exhibit fractured hyoids, which limits the bone's explanatory power.
Epstein's hyoid bone has come to represent a collection of apparent inconsistencies with Epstein's physical remains. Skeptics have pointed out, for example, that the fabric noose Epstein purportedly used to hang himself had no apparent blood stains, despite his neck showing visible lacerations where the noose cut into his skin. They have also pointed out that Epstein had access to more efficient means of self-strangulation, such as the cord of his CPAP machine.
What the hyoid bone doesn't explain, though, is how a hypothetical killer would have accessed Epstein's cell in the first place.
Status: Unknown. The hyoid bone is significant only if someone actually entered Epstein's cell. Because there is no evidence for such an intrusion, its significance is minimal.
Discrepancy 6: The missing security footage
One of the strangest and most unexplainable aspects of Epstein's death is the apparent malfunctioning of two security cameras that were positioned outside of his cell, which meant that hours of footage from August 9-10 were somehow deleted.
This facet of the Epstein case is somewhat confusing, because prison officials actually lost two sets of footage: Footage from the day of his apparent suicide attempt on July 23, and footage from the night of his death on August 10. Federal officials eventually recovered the first set of footage, but never recovered the second set.
What's also confusing is the method of failure. Precise explanations for the surveillance system's deletion of Epstein-related footage are difficult to come by. It remains unclear, for instance, whether the footage could have been intentionally deleted, and if so, who had the access to do so. It is equally unclear whether other footage from the same night went missing, too.
Status: The second tranche of footage appears to be gone forever. More details may emerge, though, in the criminal trial of the prison guards.
Discrepancy 7: The motive
Journalists have theorized about likely suspects, focusing on his famous acquaintances, rumored clients, and people he had allegedly blackmailed. The idea, it seems, is that some of these individuals must have feared that Epstein would offer them up to prosecutors in order to mitigate his own punishment.
But we can constrain the potential list of subjects in other ways, too. If Epstein was murdered, the responsible party must have had the motive, the willingness, and the ability to do so. Very few people have all three. The motive is simple enough: It's not hard to think of people who may have wanted him dead because they feared Epstein would divulge sensitive or damaging information to prosecutors.
Willingness is relatively straightforward, too. Of those known to have some relationship with Epstein, who would be willing to kill someone, either with their own hands or by hiring a professional assassin? The list of people tied to Epstein who have ordered assassinations, or personally participated in assassinate plots, is surprisingly deep. It includes Donald Trump, Bill Clinton, and Ehud Barak.
While it's certainly possible that Trump, Clinton, or Barak secretly wished Epstein would disappear, they are constrained by the third and final criteria: the ability to actually carry out an assassination.
Penetrating the security defenses of a federal correctional facility in New York City, without leaving any literal or metaphorical fingerprints, would likely require the logistical and financial resources of a sovereign government. And that government would need to be comfortable with both the act of killing and the risk of getting caught.
There is one person who has been connected to Epstein who has the resources of a state at his disposal and has a history of ordering assassinations. His name doesn't appear in Epstein's little black book or show up on his flight flogs, nor has he been photographed with him or Ghislaine Maxwell. In fact, there is very little documentary evidence of his relationship with Epstein beyond the retellings of a handful of journalists.
That individual is Mohammed bin Salman, the Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia. He allegedly had an open line of communication with Epstein. In August 2018, a New York Times reporter encountered a portrait of M.B.S., as the prince is commonly known, hanging on a wall in Epstein's Upper East Side mansion: "The crown prince had visited him many times, and they spoke often, Mr. Epstein said." Another journalist later described seeing "photos of Epstein with Saudi prince Mohammed bin Salman and Emirate prince Mohammed bin Zayed, some in beachwear and with snorkel gear," at the same mansion.
As Insider has reported, Epstein's private jet travelled to Riyadh on the eve of Donald Trump's election in 2016, at a time when M.B.S. was also in the city. According to prosecutors, a forged Austrian passport found in Epstein's safe indicated a residence in Saudi Arabia and had been used to travel to the country in the past.
While certain specifics remain disputed, the Central Intelligence Agency has reportedly concluded that M.B.S. ordered the gruesome assassination of Washington Post columnist and Saudi dissident Jamal Khashoggi in November 2018, when Saudi agents lured him to the country's consulate in Istanbul, detained him, carved his body up with a bone saw, and dissolved his remains in a bath of acid.
Khashoggi's murder drew global outrage, and seriously damaged the Saudi kingdom's standing on the international stage, where the country's royal family has long sought a higher profile. While we can never know what lessons M.B.S. drew from the Khashoggi case, it seems reasonable to assume that it did not deter him from the practice of assassination altogether. But it may have deterred him from conducting future murders in such a public, obvious way.
The precise nature of M.B.S.'s relationship with Epstein — friends? business partners? something else? — remains unkown. The Saudi government declined opportunities to clarify the record.
Status: Unknown. Saudi Arabia has so far declined to comment on M.B.S.'s relationship with Epstein, which Epstein clearly characterized as a warm and close one.
When the Epstein case finally concludes, and new revelations and connections come to an end, it will be possible to write something comprehensive about its proceedings. At the moment, however, trying to report on Epstein can feel like trying to navigate a choppy sea with a drinking cup. If this article achieves anything, it will be to activate the memories and imaginations of its readers, for the purpose of solving a seemingly unsolvable case.
nb: some links within the article may be paywalled. Ehud Barak's name (alongside Trump & Clinton above) seems to try and link to a non-existent wiki page.
submitted by Leather_Term to Epstein [link] [comments]

2020.08.07 20:00 SeinfeldVirus Sex scene caught on camera

By: David Gill
[email protected] Twitter: u/VirusSeinfeld Instagram: u/songotaku
Jerry: You met a woman on Tinder?
George: Had to happen eventually.
Jerry: So, you swipe her, she swipes you?
George: That's generally the way it works, yes.
Jerry: How soon after the lockdown do you two plan on going out?
George: We're going out tonight.
Jerry: YOU'RE GOING OUT TONIGHT? What are you, crazy? Doesn't
she care that there's a worldwide pandemic?
George: Well, it's not really worldwide anymore, and... she
already had it.
Jerry: What do you mean she already had it?
George: She had it - got over it.
Jerry: She got over it?
George: Yeah, but she said it was a rough couple of weeks. She's
got antibodies and everything.
Jerry: But what about you? You don't have any antibodies. Isn't
she worried about you?
George: I, uh [scratches head] told her I had it.
George: I told her I had it in March and that I was
Jerry: Oh you're symptomatic alright!
George: It's just that she's so pretty and she swiped on me,
Jerry. Nobody pretty ever swipes on me. It's just my luck, a
beautiful woman swipes on me and we're in the middle of a
Jerry: You're crazy! You're gonna get yourself killed!
George: No, there's like a 99.7 percent survival rate. I take a
bigger risk every time I cross the street.
Jerry: But what about your parents? If you give it to them,
it'll kill ‘em.
George: That gives me an idea!
Jerry: You’re going to kill your parents?
George: NO, I’M NOT GOING TO KILL MY PARENTS! intentionally. The
Yankees just announced that anybody who tests positive gets six
weeks off. Paid leave, Jerry! Whether they have symptoms or not.
Steinbrenner is so freaked out about the covid he doesn’t want
anyone who tests positive setting foot in Yankee Stadium.
Jerry: Let me see if I have this straight: you are willing to
expose yourself to the single greatest public health threat in
modern American history... just so that you can get some time off?
George: And maybe some sex.
Kramer [enters]: who’s having sex?
Jerry: NOBODY is having sex!
George [to Jerry]: I still don’t think you should have let him
in the pod.
Kramer: Of course I’m in the pod. I live across the hall.
George: Well it makes me very uncomfortable. Nobody knows what
it is you... do. You’re probably not following the protocols.
Kramer: I’m washing my hands. I have hand sanitizer. See?[Kramer
pulls out sanitizer, attempts to squirt it on his hands, squirts
his eye, reaches up to cover his eye, squirts sanitizer on the
floor, reaches for a towel, and falls to the ground] [from the
floor, whimpering] I’m listening to the CDC!
Jerry [to Kramer still on the floor]: Even after the whole pig
man coverup? Listen, you going to the protest?
Kramer[standing up]: I don’t think so.
Jerry: You don’t think so? Why not?
Kramer: That’s just what they want you to do. Go to the protest.
So they can capture your identity with facial recognition — then
you’re in the system, Jerry.
Jerry: What system?
Kramer: THE system. Jerry, once you’re in there, they got you.
Jerry: They got you how?
Kramer: Well, you’re in the system.
Kramer: That’s how they want it.
Jerry: Who’s ‘they’?
Kramer (chuckling): Don’t be naive, buddy, “They” are.
Jerry: Well I’m going.
Kramer: You’re going to the protest? [laughs] You?
Jerry: Yeah, me, what about me?
Kramer: Jerry, those pigs are gonna eat you alive!
Jerry: Oh come on, Kramer, it won’t be that bad. This is
[The two exchange a look]
Jerry: Maybe I better borrow that motorcycle helmet you conned
out of Newman.
Kramer: Now wait a minute. I’ve never seen you go to a protest
before. You hate crowds.
Jerry: Well it’s just Trump, he makes me so mad!
Kramer: That’s not it.
Jerry: That is it! I mean come on ‘person, woman, man, camera,
tv!’ And he’s such a phoney baloney.
Kramer: No, no, no. You don’t care about politics. There’s a
woman in this. Out with it, Mochungus. What’s the young lady’s
Jerry: What’s in a name? I didn’t know your name for years,
Kramer: C’mon, out with it.
George: Now I want to know too.
Jerry ...It’s Karen, ok?! Are you happy now?
Kramer [laughing]: Does she want to speak to the manager?
George: What’s her story?
Jerry: I met her on Nextdoor. We both hate the same person who
never cleans up after their dog when it goes to the bathroom by
that tree out front.
George: The tree that smells like pee?
Jerry: No, one down from the pee tree. The tree with the hedge
around it.
Kramer: Did you just say the dog goes to the bathroom?
Jerry: I did. I find the whole process repulsive. Most of the
dog walkers clean up after their dogs, but there’s this one
person, they never clean it up. I mean there’s a new one there
everyday. And here’s the thing, nobody’s ever seen them.
George: How do you know it’s the same dog?
Jerry: She’s been taking pictures.
George: Who’s been taking pictures?
Jerry: The woman on Nextdoor, Karen. She takes pictures of them,
each day, like a record, and they’re all the same.
George: They’re all the same?
Jerry: I wouldn’t imagine they’re identical. Frankly, I have no
interest in viewing the evidence. But I’ll tell you she makes a
convincing case that they all come from the same dog.
George: A convincing case based on pictures you haven’t even
looked at?
Jerry: Well, she possesses other, physical attributes, that have
been reported to have influenced men’s decision making processes
in the past.
Kramer: A ghost pooper.
Jerry: Not a ghost pooper Kramer, this person is an agent of
fecal disorder. A person so callous and deranged that they’ve
lost even the basic decency required to clean up their dog’s
excrement, undermining the very social contract that undergirds
our society.
Kramer: Oh, it undergirds it?
Jerry: Yes, it undergirds it.
George: Yeah, you’re going to a protest to impress a woman who
takes pictures of dog turds, and I have a problem!
Jerry [to Kramer]: Can you just get me the helmet?
Karen [to the waitress]: I’d like to speak to the manager.
Jerry [looking pained]: So we’re going to the protest on Friday?
Karen: Absolutely.
The manager [a white woman, approaches the table]: What seems to
be the problem?
Karen: I’m sorry to bother you, but I just noticed that more
than half your waitresses are black.
Manager: I’m sorry?
Karen: Your staff, they’re too diverse.
Manager: Too diverse?
Karen: Too diverse. Statistically speaking white people make up
roughly half the population, but more than half of your staff
today appear to be people of color.
Manager[exasperated]: I’ll see what I can do.
Jerry’s inner voice: Who is this awful woman, and why am I so
attracted to her?
Manager [standing at the table]: I’m sorry we require all of our
customers to wear masks.
Marlene: I have a medical exemption [reaches for purse] you see
I had the Coronavirus. It was terrible. I almost died.
George: Me too.
Manager: Oh I’m so sorry. That’s ok. I don’t need to see
anything. I’ll bring you both some nice, warm tea. On the house.
George: On the house. Wow.
Marlene: That’s so nice of you. [to George] Once they find out I
had it, everyone treats me so nicely. It’s like I’ve made some
great sacrifice or something. But you know about that, right?
George: I always wanted to make a sacrifice. But of course you
have to actually have something before you can give it up.
[snorts, then grows serious] I feel like, because I was
asymptomatic, it wouldn’t be right to flaunt my encounter. I try
not to mention it to people.
Marlene: That’s very big of you. The other day I got a free meal
at Mendy’s after the manager heard about my ordeal.
George: A free meal at Mendy’s? That’s amazing! [He leans in]
Marlene [coughing into elbow]: I’m sorry.
George [leaning in further]: That’s ok.
Jerry: I just think it’s a little bit much to ask the manager
over to the table to complain that there aren’t enough white
people working here.
Karen: Jerry, I’m only being fair.
Jerry’s inner voice: I hate this woman.
Jerry [watching the woman get up from the table, when she turns
to him, he smiles]: Your mask... it’s [gestures] your nose, it’s
Karen: Oh, of course. [pulls up mask - turns away for a moment -
when she turns back, her nose is again exposed]
Marlene: So I had a fever of 104. I was literally hallucinating.
I thought my grandma was going to climb out of my remote control
and murder me. And the headache. You wouldn’t believe the
headache. It was like my head was being crushed in a vice.
George [pulling away a little]: What’d that last, a couple of
Woman: Two weeks of the worst agony you can imagine. I wished I
was dead.
George: I’ve wished I was dead.
Woman: No, for real. And the vomiting.
George: Vomiting?
Woman: I never thought it would end. And now I’ve got nerve
George [pulling back further]: Nerve damage?
Woman: The doctors, they just don’t know. But what about you?
What’s your prognosis?
George: My prognosis? Good prognosis, really good prognosis.
It’s almost not even a prognosis, it’s so good. A “prognosis,”
that’s something for sick people. What I got is better than a
Woman: So you’re ok?
George: Better than ok.
Jerry: David Putty said ‘all lives matter?
Elaine: Yep.
Jerry: No!
Elaine: Yessiree bob.
Jerry: Surely he must’ve been joking.
Elaine: Oh no, get this, he said (imitates Putty) ‘Of course all
lives matter, what’s so controversial about that? I don’t care
if you’re white, brown, black, or purple. I love everybody.’
Kramer: He sounds nice. What’s the matter with that?
Elaine: It’s idiotic Kramer! THERE ARE NO PURPLE PEOPLE!
Kramer: My friend Bob Sacamano’s uncle was purple. He ate a bad
rutabaga when he was a kid. He was like a smurf.
George: Weren’t smurfs blue?
Jerry, Elaine, Kramer: SHUT UP GEORGE!
Jerry: So what did you do?
Elaine: I changed the subject. I didn’t want to get into a whole
thing. It’s not like he said ‘no lives matter.’ What’s the big
Jerry: What’s the big deal? You’re dating someone who refuses to
acknowledge systemic racism. That’s the big deal. I bet he
listens to Joe Rogan. Does he listen to Joe Rogan, Elaine?
Elaine: Maybe a little. He says he likes the drug stuff.
Jerry: And?
Elaine: ...and the Musk interviews.
Jerry: See! You’re just a tweak away from dating Ben Shapiro!
For god sakes, Elaine, he doesn’t watch Fox, does he?
Elaine: You don’t suppose... he wants to...
Jerry: Make America great again?
Elaine [shuddering]: Why do you care so much?
Jerry: Who says I care? I don’t care.
Elaine: It sure seems like you care. What about your date? What
are Karen’s political beliefs?
Jerry: I don’t know. We didn’t get into politics.
Elaine: OK, well, I gotta go.
[Jerry and Kramer remain on Jerry’s couch]
Kramer: Are you gonna see her again?
Jerry: I don’t know. She’s driving me crazy. She’s a nose
Kramer: A nose exposer?
Jerry: A nose exposer! She exposes her nose. She’s got the mask,
she’s wearing the mask, but there’s the nose, peeking out.
Kramer: Peeking out?
Jerry: Yes, peeking out, hello, it’s like a nasal burlesque
Kramer: So you don’t like her nose?
Jerry: Fine nose, great nose, really a very nice nose, BUT I
DON’T WANT TO SEE IT. Not now. Maybe when the infection rate
goes down.
Kramer: But Jerry, that nose is forbidden fruit! This woman is
teasing you with the greatest sensual tool at her command, and
you’re gonna refuse that?
Jerry: Kramer, you know how I feel about mucus! But this woman
is so attractive I can’t even think straight. Get this, she
noticed that less than half the waitresses at the restaurant
were white and she... she...
Kramer: She what?
Jerry: Oh, nevermind.
Kramer: She noticed less than half the waitresses there were
white and she what, Jerry?
Jerry [mumbling]: she might have asked for the manager.
Kramer: She asked to speak to the manager?!
Jerry: She may have, yes. So what? You know that isn’t a very
nice stereotype.
Kramer: Jerry, listen to me very carefully. You are messing with
the forces of nature. Cut your losses and get out. Do you
remember, three years ago_
Jerry: I think so.
Kramer: Do you remember the woman I met at the ceramics
workshop... Whose name was...
Jerry: Karen! Hey didn’t she key your car?
Kramer: She did more than that. She keyed my heart, Jerry. She
dragged that jagged key through my entire life. I had to change
my phone number because of her, twice. My mother had to change
her phone number! [Pauses] You know by focusing on race, your
Karen’s really missing the bigger picture. I mean it doesn’t
matter who works there. They all have the value of their labor
stolen by the owner, who’s probably chomping on a cigar in the
back room, laughing at them.
Jerry: Have you been watching Left Tube again?
Kramer: Jerry, it all boils down to simple class warfare. The
proletariat are being stepped on.
Jerry: You don’t even know who the proletariat are, do you?
Kramer: They’re the workers. Like us.
Jerry: You haven’t had a job in thirty years!
Kramer: Jerry, don’t let your bourgeoisie entitlement blind you
to the systematic oppression of the capitalist machinery. You
may get up on your little stage and make your little jokes. But
out there, it’s like...
Jerry: A jungle?
Kramer: Yeah. You know you better give me Karen’s Twitter.
Jerry: You’re not gonna slide into her DM’s are you?
Kramer: No, I’m not gonna slide into her DM’s. I’m just gonna
make a little video and tag her to make sure she watches it.
What’s Putty’s Twitter? I’ll tag him too.
Karen [reading a youtube video title]: “Karl Marx and Baseball”?
Putty clicks on the link and sits back, eating popcorn
robotically. Kramer appears on their screens, a cheap backdrop
displays a series of sensationally anti-capitalist images:
pollution, factory workers, miners, cubicle slaves. Severe
Soviet music segues into the crack of the bat and Kramer appears
in Left Tube garb]
Kramer: Did you know Karl Marx hated baseball? [Reaction shot:
Karen and Putty look shocked and confused] That’s right.
America’s pastime. ‘That’s crazy,’ you’re probably saying to
yourself. I mean did they even have baseball way back...
whenever Karl Marx was... born? But they did, and when Karl Marx
was a kid, he played baseball with the other kids in the
neighborhood. In... wherever he grew up. But that’s not the point.
The point is that Karl Marx was always the last one picked on a
team... [Putty is shown taking notes, Karen is clearly unswayed]
Jerry: So you like her?
George: I’m scared to death of her. I don’t know what I was
thinking Jerry! I sat right next to her. Now I could have it.
She coughed Jerry!
Jerry: I told you you were crazy.
George: Give me something to smell.
Jerry: What do you mean, something to smell?
George: I need something to smell. I can’t smell anything.
Jerry [goes to cupboard and opens it]: I have triscuits. Do
triscuits have a smell?
George [grabs the box of triscuits from Jerry and rips it open]:
I think triscuits have a smell! [George puts his nose deep into
the box]
Jerry: Well?
George: I can’t smell anything! You better smell, maybe
triscuits don’t have a smell. [shoves box towards Jerry]
Jerry: Oh no! I’m not putting my face anywhere near that
cardboard deathtrap after your maskless romp through the TB ward
with Typhoid Mary last night!
George: Then give me something else to smell.
Jerry: You know you really ought to be self-isolating.
George: I thought about it, but I interact with so few people I
didn’t think it would really make a difference.
Jerry: What about me? You might infect me.
George: You? Psshhh. You’d be fine.
Jerry: You don’t know that, George.
George: You could’ve been infected by the nose exposer. I have
viral deniability.
Jerry: Viral deniability?
George: Yeah, viral deniability. You could've gotten it from
her. You don’t know it was me. SCENE 9
Putty: It’s systemic oppression, babe.
Elaine: Yeah, David, I get that, but, I’m STARVING! I just want
to order some food. Can we get GrubHub now?
Putty: You know they exploit their workers, right?
Elaine: Yes, David, I know. Everything is exploitation. It’s a
wonder people even get up in the morning. CAN WE ORDER SOME FOOD
Putty: Sure, babe, as long as it’s vegan.
Elaine: Since when are you vegan?
Putty: Since today. Kramer’s video really opened my eyes. You
think those farm animals want their babies stolen? [Elaine looks
confused] Capitalism is the virus, Elaine. It’s all about our
bottom line. Because we’re dead inside.
Elaine [reaching for the remote and turning on the TV]: Ooh it’s
time for Ari Melber.
Putty: Ari Melber is a pig Elaine, a capitalist pig!
Elaine: Well then we better not try to steal his babies... The
Indian place on the corner is vegan. Go grab us something from
there. Then you’re the only one getting exploited.
Elaine: I couldn’t listen to him anymore. He is driving me
crazy. He’s like... a Young Turk!
Kramer: What’s wrong with that?
Elaine: What’s wrong with that? He’s too far left!
Kramer: Too far left?
Elaine: Way too far left! He’s like.. like.. Jimmy Dore!
Kramer: Jimmy Dore is a moderate, Elaine.
Elaine: I just wanted him to stop saying ‘all lives matter.’ I
didn’t want Leon Trotsky reminding me of every little incident
of exploitation. I wanted an Ari Melber, Kramer. Not Bill Ayers.
Kramer: Typical liberal. You think you can pay lip service to
progressive ideas while you fritter away your life blissfully
unaware of the struggle. You know you both make me sick.
Jerry: What did I do?
Kramer: You sit up here with your button-down, plastic fantastic
lifestyle. You only go to a protest to impress some girl taking
pictures of dog turds on Nextdoor! Look at you, you're NIMBYs!
Why don't you just move to the suburbs already!
Jerry: I am not a NIMBY. I don't even have a backyard!
George: Well now I gotta get tested!
Jerry: You went on a date with a disease vector, what did you
expect would happen?
George: I didn’t think it through. You know I’ve never once in
my life thought something through. Now they’re going to put that
big q-tip up my nose. You know I can’t handle that! It’s right
next to the brain, Jerry. What if I sneeze, right when it’s in
there? That could kill you. Has that killed anyone?
Jerry: Relax, no one has died from sneezing while the big q-tip
was in their nose.
George: Well I don’t think I can do it. Sit in that line of
cars. It’s like the White Castle drive through at two a.m. on a
Saturday night.
Jerry: Sunday morning.
George: Whatever! But there’s nothing to look forward to. You
wait and wait to get to the front of the line and they come at
you all garbed up like those evil scientists in “E.T.” And then
WHAM, up the nose...
Jerry: With a rubber hose. But you gotta do it. Listen, if it
scares you so much, I’ll go with you. You know I’m taking a big
risk letting you stay in the pod.
George: You’re kicking me out of the pod now?
Jerry: Where’s your hand sanitizer?
George [reaches for the sanitizer]: I left it at home.
Jerry: You don’t have your hand sanitizer, you’re out there
dating maskless in the middle of the pandemic. Are you going to
see her again?
George: We’re supposed to go for a walk later. You know she
lives right around the corner from here. What about you? Are you
going to see Karen again?
Jerry: I don’t know. This woman is driving me crazy. She’s so
attractive physically, and yet so unattractive in every other
George: We should double date.
Jerry: Double date, during a pandemic? Is that a good idea?
George: No, see, we get tested together, we make sure they get
tested. If we’re all negative, we can form a new pod, like
Biosphere 2.
Jerry: Right, because locking ourselves into romantic
commitments has worked out so well for us in the past.
Putty: Food is good. Why do all the colonized countries have the
best food? Did we choose which countries to colonize based on
who had the best food?
Elaine: Well it’s a mystery for the ages. Got any plans this
weekend? Maybe we could Netflix... and chill.
Putty: Sure babe. But I’m going to Central Park on Saturday.
Elaine: Central Park on Saturday, why?
Putty: To protest team picking?
Elaine: What?
Putty: Picking teams. It’s not fair. Just cause you’re the best
player, you get picked first? If you stink, you get picked last?
How does that help your confidence?
Elaine: I don’t suppose it does. But doesn’t that seem like a
funny thing to protest? I mean there are bigger problems in the
Putty: It’s a plenty big problem. Capitalism makes everything
into a competition.
Elaine: Baseball IS a COMPETITION, David.
Putty: Yeah, but it doesn't have to be.
Elaine: You got a better idea?
Putty: Yeah, maybe an adult could divide the kids into teams of
equal skill.
Elaine: That’s failed everywhere it’s ever been tried!
Putty: Those weren’t real tries, Elaine! That was just a bunch
of parents bossing their kids around.
Elaine: That’s what you’re proposing! Parents telling kids which
team they’re on.
Putty: I’m saying the parents can look at the kids’ abilities
and put them on the team that needs them the most.
Elaine: It’ll never work.
Putty: It will so work.
Elaine: Just look at Venezuela.
Putty: Venezuela has some of the best baseball players in the
Elaine: Are we talking baseball or politics?
Putty: I don’t even know anymore. Forget this, I’m out of here!
George: My phone just buzzed. It’s the results. It has to be. I
shut off all my other notifications.
Jerry: What about Tinder?
George: I left that one on. Just in case.
Jerry: Oh, my phone is buzzing too!
[They both reach for their phones]
George: Ok, let’s look together.
Jerry: Alright, we’ll put our finger on the notification in
[They press their phones]
George: Wait wait, I didn’t put my thumb on the thing!
Jerry: Hurry up. It’s opening... opening.
George: Ok I’m there too.
Jerry [stabbing at his phone with his finger]: Test results!
Circle spinning circle spinning circle spinning...
Jerry: Negative - yes! Georgie Boy, what’d you get?!
George [despondent]: Negative.
Jerry: Alright, that’s great news!
George: Yeah, great news.
Jerry: What? You’re upset that you don’t have it now? You were
scared to death! You thought it was going to kill you.
George: I guess I just hoped that somewhere along the way I had
caught it. Why can’t I be an asymptomatic carrier? Couldn’t I
get lucky just this one time?
Jerry: You are lucky, George. You avoided catching a deadly
disease. Even after you purposefully set out to contract it.
George: Let’s text the girls, maybe they got their test results
back too.
Jerry: Just promise me you’ll wear a mask this time.
George: Sure, but what kind?
Jerry: How about one of those disposable surgical masks? Simple,
clean, shows you care but that you’re not vain about it.
George: No, no good. I don’t like the way those feel, and my
glasses always fog up.
Jerry: Did you try the trick?
George: What trick?
Jerry: The glasses trick. It’s on a YouTube video or something.
It was in my feed.
George: Well? What’s the trick?
Jerry: Oh, I don’t know. I don’t wear glasses.
George: Thanks a lot.
Jerry: I figured it’d be in your feed too. I mean you wear
George: Well you could’ve tagged me.
Jerry: No, I don’t like tagging people.
George: Why not?
Jerry: I don’t know. I feel like I’m pointing. ‘Look at this!’
‘Look at that!’ I don’t want to be demanding. I hate when people
tag me.
George: It’s true. The only thing worse is the mention.
Jerry: Hate the mention.
George: I mean you have to click on it immediately.
Jerry: Nobody likes to be mentioned. If someone came up to you
and said, ‘oh, your name was mentioned at dinner last night’ how
would you feel?
George: Not good.
Jerry: You’d be scared out of your mind!
George: You could’ve sent me the link.
Jerry: I know, but the link was on Facebook, and our last
conversation was on Instagram, and I didn’t want to switch
because we were having a good discussion about Judge Judy in
that thread.
George: Hey, do you think she really is drunk on power?
Jerry: How could she not be? But let’s keep that on Instagram.
What about a bandana?
George: A bandana?
Jerry: For your mask.
George: A bandana. Yeah, that’s what Bruce Springsteen would
wear, right? I always thought he was cool. [Pauses] But if I
wear a hat and sunglasses, with the bandana I’ll look like the
invisible man. That’s no good.
Jerry: No, it’s not.
George: What about a homemade mask?
Jerry: You mean one you make for yourself?
George: No, like one that a loved one makes for me.
Jerry: Do you have any loved ones? What about your mother? Could
she make you one?
George: My mother doesn’t sew.
Jerry: OK, well, where could you get one?
George: I could buy one.
Jerry: You want to buy a mask that looks like it was made for
you by someone who loves you?
George: Yeah.
Jerry: George, we’re going out with them in 48 hours.
George: I could order it from Amazon.
[Kramer bursts through the door]
Kramer: You’re not ordering anything from Amazon!
George: Kramer, I have to. If I don’t get a homemade looking
mask in the next 48 hours I’ll lose all credibility with a
beautiful woman.
Kramer: Listen to yourself! You’re a tool, George. A perfectly
functioning cog in the machine.
George: Is it so bad to be a cog, Kramer?
Jerry: A cog Kramer?
George: Is it? What’s so bad about it? All my life I’ve been
trying to fit in. What if I am a cog? At least I’m doing
Kramer [leans into George]: You’re lining the pockets of the
wealthiest man on Earth. You’re taking money from the struggling
mom and pop mask shops right here in this neighborhood. You’re
denying basic dignity and workplace rights to his employees, all
for the sake of your precious convenience, George.
George: Well when you put it like that it sounds terrible.
Kramer: How else can it be [makes popping sound] put?
George: I don’t know. Lots of ways... Alright. Fine. I’ll try to
find a mask at one of the shops around here.
Putty: I’m surprised you’re playing during the pandemic.
Coach: We didn’t want to, but some woman threatened to sue the
league if we didn’t. Oh sh#t! Here she comes!
[Karen approaches, nose exposed]
Karen [to Putty]: Excuse me, what are you doing?
Putty: Excuse me, I’m talking to these folks about picking
Karen: What about it?
Putty: It’s not fair.
Karen: You’re just mad because Karl Marx was always the last one
Putty: Where’d you hear that?
Karen: From some stupid internet video.
Putty: That video was so not stupid!
[Karen and Putty proceed to get into a heated debate]
EXT. CENTRAL PARK WALKING PATH - DAY JERRY AND GEORGE MEET UP IN THE PARK. GEORGE IS WEARING A ROLLING STONES FACEMASK EMBLAZONED WITH LIPS AND TONGUE LOGO. HE LOOKS RIDICULOUS. JERRY IS WEARING A DISPOSABLE SURGICAL MASK. Jerry and George meet up in the park. George is wearing a Rolling Stones facemask emblazoned with lips and tongue. He looks ridiculous. Jerry has a disposable surgical mask.] Jerry [motioning to the facemask]: What the hell is that?
George [muffled]: It was the last mask they had.
Jerry: What?
George [pulling mask down]: It was the last one they had!
Jerry [laughing]: You look ridiculous!
[Karen walks up, slightly disheveled]
Jerry: Hey, what happened to you?
Karen: I owned a lib. [Jerry looks confused]
Jerry: I missed you yesterday at the protest. Where were you?
Karen: I was there. Where were you?
Jerry: I was on the north side of city hall.
Karen: Oh, I was on the west side of city hall.
Jerry: The west side? But that was where the Trump rally...
[Marlene walks up with her dog]
George: Hi! This is Jerry.
Jerry: Hi. This is Karen.
[after an odd moment everybody nods rather than shaking hands]
Jerry [to Marlene]: What’s your dog’s name?
Marlene: This is Charlie! He’s a good boy.
[Charlie wanders away from the group]
Karen [to Jerry]: So wait, you were with the protesters?
Jerry: And when you said you were going to the protest, that
meant that you were going to the COUNTER protest?!
[Both Karen and Jerry shudder]
George: Um, your dog is looking for a place to do his business.
Did you bring a bag or something?
Marlene: Oh no, I never bring a bag anymore. When I was
suffering from covid the smell made me nauseous.
Karen [watching the dog, her face dawning with recognition]: I
know that dog! You! It’s you! It was you all along. And I have
the proof! [She looks around the park desperately, and runs down
a park ranger] Excuse me, sir! I’d like to speak to the manager
of the park!
Elaine: So what happened?
Jerry: Well, when the police showed up, Karen was screaming
about the dog turds, just going out of her mind. Turns out she
fits the description of someone who assaulted a guy over by the
baseball diamonds a half an hour earlier. So they hauled her
Elaine: GET OUT! That was Putty over by the baseball diamonds!
He said some crazy Karen attacked him. He had to get six
stitches. So he bought a gun, drank a six pack, and explained to
me why Jordan Peterson thinks I should clean my room for two
George: Karen assaulted Putty?! Over what?
Elaine: He said he was going over there to protest team picking.
Jerry: Team picking?
[Jerry and Elaine stare at Kramer]
Kramer [looks uncomfortable]: It’s inherently unfair. It’s why
Karl Marx hated baseball.
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2020.08.05 10:58 blind5Aug Sex on scene camera caught

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2020.08.05 03:04 JLO9003 Sex scene camera caught on

In the early 90s, I used to work as a camera operator for CNN. I did graduate from college and I planned to achieve on getting a high education.
After about a year I decided to look for work somewhere than just at a news station. Then finally found work in film but not the Hollywood level of films, the low-budget and terrible acting type of films.
I once quit on the spot all because the pay was shitty. Around '95 I dropped out because I couldn't afford to stay at a motel and the school is far from home.
With no higher education and the only good thing on my resume being a former employee if a big news network. I went back to working as a camera operator but for porn. It was either work in the shitty part of the film industry or work for a local news network.
The pay was better and but it was weird having to see two people fuck each other's brain's out right in front of me.
I worked from studio to studio, I even became friends with a porn star. I worked from 1996 until 1999 when I got hired for a low-budget porno.
The pornos I worked on were moslty in sound stages to improve the quality since doing porn in motels wouldn't have as much great quality for the VHS and DVD's their gonna sell.
And how I found the job was on craiglist with ad saying
"NEED CAMERAMAN! Willing to pay $1,200."
After briefly reading, it caught my attention. That much money to be offered is both tempting and suspicious.
I emailed the person, two days later they replied by asking about any experince. I told them and they were impressed about having a former news camera operator work for them.
After hours of exchanging emails, I got the job. I wrote down the address and I was told to wait till Friday, the day came and I headed to the address. I expected to be a sound stage, due to the pay, instead it was some house in a suburban neighborhood.
I see someone waiting outside and thought it was the director, he wasn't but the sound guy. We greeted each other before entering the home, he tells me that everyone else will be here soon.
He was nice and all until he gave me some advice which I haven't forgotten. Don't say my last name, just my first, I asked him why and the only thing I got as a response was
"Safety reasons".
After the director and two actors arrived, we started setting up the equipment in the basement where filiming was taking place. The only thing that stood out about the basement was that their were plastic covering the entire place.
I just simply thought that maybe someone was a germiphobe.
None of us spoke with each other while the director was around and when she headed to check on the actors, the sound guy looked around before warning me.
"Get the hell out before it's too late, for the love of God please."
I wasn't desperate to pay the bills or rent, I just saw an ad and it's reward but I guess I should've taken the chance to leave.
Before I can say anything our director comes back and the actor's wore robes than normal clothing. I told myself it's gonna be gay porn and that's it, what else is gonna happen on a porn set?
Once we were in position, she got into her seat and yelled action. I started recording the two who began making out before moving into all kinds of sex but when one was doing doggy style to the other I noticed the director was slowly getting into the frane, I was about to tell her that but I noticed the audio guy looking and shaking his head to me.
She then hands the actor some sort of bladed and...began stabbing his partner in the back. Blood just started coming out fast, quickly painting the plastic covered floor with red. I sometimes hear that man's scream and his agony.
And then he...began using the bladed weapon towards his partner's head. I avoided looking at the brutal and butchery scene.
And the sound the stabs made, he just kept going over and over but I heard the sound of suffocation. I see the director who wore gloves, choking the murderer with a plastic bag over his head. He tried to fight back but what it felt like hours, his body gave up.
Then... Cut.
I got paid and the director told me that I did a good job, for a rookie and offered me full time employment. I said no and left.
What disturbed is about three weeks later, I found two missing posters of the two actors. The police say their the sixth couple to go missing in the state Georgia and I also got a package, inside was a dvd with writing on it.
"Fun Times with Henry and Bob."
Once getting receiving it I left home, changed my name and my entire identity. My family doesnt where I am and neither will that insane director.
But after years of guilty I decided to send the DVD to someone in the FBI; anonymously. I just hope that they'll find her so that I can get my life back together. I do feel sorry for the audio guy who had to witness five other murders and pray he didn't had to see more after that.
submitted by JLO9003 to SlumberReads [link] [comments]

2020.08.04 07:32 TheFloridaHorrorShow Sex scene caught on camera

"The small rural town of Rellaville was a sleepy place with a lot of homely, multi generational families. The Harris family had moved in twenty years ago with their two year old son, Kyle and another on the way. The new neighbors took to the family quickly and it had made their new surroundings easier to adjust to. The mother and father were both very outgoing people but that would change after the birth of their new little boy 'Thomas'.
Mr. Harris didn't stick around for long after the new arrival and it became too much for the young mother to handle. She stuck to her guns for two weeks before giving up that he was never coming back. The two boys and their mother lived on like normal but the personality of the Mrs. Harris slowly evaporated. She would leave the house less and less, as she stopped going over to neighbors houses. She barely even spoke to Edith Graham, her next door neighbor unless she needed the boy's watched for a few hours to run errands.
When the boy's started growing up and becoming more self sufficient, Mrs. Harris had became more of a recluse. Even Edith started to not even hear from her on the telephone. Instead of going out she started having her weekly rations delivered by car and if she did leave the store it was to get her carton of cigarettes. The car had broken down but she couldn't be bothered to fix it. So it sat out in the long driveway all by itself. The boy's where home schooled and had no contact with the outside world. The other kids their age would see them looking out the window sometimes but all they would do is come up with crazy stories. The Harris boy's were the talk of the town no matter what age you where. Tommy didn't know any better but Kyle wasn't as easy to suppress.
Kyle had went out his bedroom window before and would return with candy bars and bags of chips. That his brother and him would hide and eat in secret. Kyle would stuff the wrappers in the bottom of the trash can to hide the evidence. Until the one time his Mother went in his room and realized he was gone. She sat at the kitchen table in the chair that faced towards the bedroom door and waited for that boy to show his face. Hours later he sneaked back in and crept up to his open door. Immediately seeing his mom looking at him, he accepted defeat quickly. Mrs. Harris jumped up, bolting across the living room, as Tommy watched. She grabbed her son by the neck, throwing him to the ground as she slapped his face. Each one growing in intensity until they were making a clapping noise against Kyle's cheek. When she finished Tommy had lost count of the slaps but knew his brother's face was bleeding and already black and bruised. He didn't cry though, he just sat there and looked on as his brother rolled around letting out deep shrills of pain. This was their world and little Thomas Harris never knew a different life.
Life stayed in its time capsule around the Harris house as the town around it continued on times path. Kyle successfully ran away when he was 11, only to return three days later, hungry and covered in dirt. After the stunt his mother got locks for all his windows and doors. She locked him in the room and left him there for almost a month. Only opening the door to give him food and a new bucket. After all this time she had ran out of buckets and the rancid smell was invading the rest of the house. So she let him out, and things went back to their own kind of normal for the Harris'.
Mrs. Harris had received a large lump sum of inheritance when her father passed away and she kept the kids home schooled. So she could subject them to her twisted world views and never allowing the outsiders poison her youth's with lies. She wasn't religious but that didn't stop her from preaching her own kind of truth. She would take the test for her boys and they both were ahead of their grade levels in every category to the outside world. In reality the boys weren't learning half of what they should have because the rest of the day would be full of their mothers ramblings. No one had a clue about this outside those four walls and over the years the rumors had grew into wild urban legends. If only some of them knew that their suspicions weren't far off.
Kyle ran away again when he was 13 but this time he never returned. Mrs. Harris reported it but after a while the cops just let it go by the waist side. It left 11 year old, Tommy all alone with his Mother but that had made him very happy. Kyle always grew doubt in his mind but she was the only woman he ever known. He'd have no defense from her strict world views that would corner his brain off to the all, the outside world had to offer. She was his mother though and was obedient to her no matter what.
The months grew into years and Mrs. Harris deteriorated past her dictator ways. Into a deep depression and Tommy would hear her screaming for Kyle in her nightmares. They had to be nightmares, those couldn't be dreams with the way she was screaming. They progressively got worse to the point that he couldn't sleep at night because the screams would echo around his skull till the sun rise. This was when Tommy first felt the urge to go outside for the first time and finally he did, but he didn't go too far.
Edith told some folks down at the local dinner about how she had seen the little Harris boy outside his house. Propped up on some old lawn chairs, starring into his mother's bedroom window. The craziest part was it at 2:30am. Each week she would return and tell everyone the update on what he was doing every night now. He would go outside around 11pm and she had to use a camcorder to find out what time he stopped. It showed him getting down at 4:47am. He had stood out there, standing still for almost 6 hours looking into his mothers bedroom window. The town took these wild tales as confirmation to the rumors that had been run with for all these years. The kids around Rellaville would all tell each other how the Harris house was haunted and the people who lived there were zombies. Only the kind of things kids would believe but the town didn't have any of boogeyman. So even the adults had created one out of a misunderstood family and by now the Harris family was the most popular topic for all ages around town.
Then on the five year anniversary of Kyle's disappearance the sheriff was called out for a gunshot at the Harris home. They had arrived shortly after to find Tommy sitting on the porch. When they asked him who shot the gun he replied coldly in his monotone voice:
"My Mama, her doors locked and I think she's dead."
They had went in and kicked down her door to confirm what Tommy had said. Discovering that she had indeed shot herself in the temple and it was a clear cut suicide how the scene appeared. Tommy was 16 by now and with only a little over a month until his birthday. The sheriff took him in but child protective services had given him the option to emancipate himself. His mother had inherited over $300,000 when he mother died but not one penny had been spent out of it. Along with the money she still had leftover from her father and this was the family that she had run away from. Money was never a issue for Mrs. Harris but she still had a life riddled with a million headaches. The money had sat in its bank accruing interest for over 15 years. He would also inherit the house, and have plenty of money to live off of. A judge granted him his motion and just like that, two days before his 17th birthday he was given the keys to the only house he'd ever known. He was officially an adult in the eyes of the courts and Tommy returned home with the new deed in his hand.
The town mumbled like it always had but now everyone had an eye out for that Tommy Harris. All his weird behavior could be blamed on growing up in a mental disorder filled bubble and they were all blind to finding any normal in the boy. Some had a feeling though that something bad was going to happen but nobody could ever say for sure. It wouldn't be until it was too late before any concerns could be confirmed. Edith went over to offer her condolences and had a nice talk with him. She had to ask all the questions though as the boy would only speak when spoken too.
After this there was no update on Tommy for the town to gossip about but finally one day he walked out of his house. It was noon and he stood out in the front yard starring up at the sun holding his arms out. After a few moments of soaking up the sun on his pale skin then he walked out of the metal gate that lined his property. Tommy went on a walk around town and many of the people who knew exactly who he was saw him in his round about. He didn't return home until a little after 4pm and as soon as he did. Edith had hopped in her truck and drove right up to the diner to gossip. Some others had already shown up and were in mid speculation when Miss Graham walked through the door. The gossip was too juicy for these small town folks who didn't have nothing better to do, to pass it up.
It became a daily routine for Tommy Harris to take his walk mid-day around town always walking the same exact route. Each day that passed made the town get use to seeing him. Some had tried to talk with Tommy and he had been very nice an respectful. Still only ever speaking when spoken too but it was becoming accustom as his 'style'. Edith's gossip group at the diner started to dwindle as Tommy's normal started to become a normal sight but she still had some believer's. She started obsessing over it and she would stare at his house from her kitchen window all day. Trying to find anything odd to report back to her follower's and there was nothing. After a while she would make stuff up just to get some people interested. This made any follower's she had left start to question her and then they would slowly make distance between them an Edith.
This went on for a couple years and finally in the year 2000, Tommy was 22 years old. He was still doing his daily routine and Edith had slowly lost her obsession. That happened when all of her follower's decided against meeting again, stating her behavior as the reason why. Edith was getting old and would celebrate her 76th birthday this year. She had become more concerned with getting the energy up to get through her day and spent less an less time watching out of her kitchen window.
That was when the ladies around town started talking to each other about a dream they had all shared. They had dreamt they were being watched through their bedroom windows and after noticing the man. He would break the glass and barge into their rooms as they helpless watched. They would wake up before the shadow man would attack and they had become so frequent that they had no choice but to talk to each other. One woman called the cops because she thought it wasn't a dream but when they showed up they had found nothing. It was a weird phenomenon that none of them could explain and most of them had a hard time dealing with them. That's when the bad news invigorated the towns gossip all in one day and for a town with little action this day was a huge turning point.
It started with Edith Graham being been found dead in her home. Old age had finally caught up with the old hag who'd cried wolf. No one was surprised but a lot of people were sad about it. Some residents had known her their whole lives. As Rellaville started to grieve night fell on the town and the cops where called out to the Harrison house. They kicked in her down when they got no response, discovering that Tina Harrison had been murdered. The sheriff's had been called to her house shortly after 10pm when her neighbor heard a scream. She had looked outside and saw a window open to Tina's bedroom. The mesh screen from the window was thrown in the yard. When the sheriff's burst in her barricaded bedroom door they found that it was a blood bath. Tina was unrecognizable as she had been sliced way to many times to even count. They discovered that she had been raped but she only showed signs and no semen was recovered. It was a shocking sight to this small town that barely had one murder a year and most of those where drunk dad's being superman with a shotgun. A crime like this wasn't normal in these parts and even the detective on the case had a hard time dealing with it.
Rellaville had always been a town where its residents barely locked their doors but that innocence they had was now gone. Most people got very paranoid, looking at all their neighbors like it could be any of them. A few of the folks Edith use to gossip with about Tommy were sure that the Harris boy was the one who did it. No new news came about and after a month the town was starting to get past the grief. That was until when it happened again.
Jasmine Caldwell was a 25 year old single mother of two little girls and they were the ones to find her. After they found her they both ran next door covered in blood and crying for help. The detective showed up first knowing it had to be the same guy and his suspicions where confirmed. The scene was identical to the first scene. A bloodbath. The detective had been hoping for a drifter who had come an gone but instead he had to grapple with the thought that he was dealing with a serial killer. He had thought it was but tried to remain positive as the dust settled on the Harrison case. Serial killers where the thing people in Rellaville only heard about on the news but now it was a real concern for all of them. The police where just as off put as the residents and the atmosphere of paranoia intensified around every part of town.
Some people boarded up all of their windows and it was a strange sight to see when it was the opposite side of the year from Hurricane season. Gun stores sold old and even the people who had never approved of them were in the store grabbing handfuls. Boxes of bullets where back ordered up to three weeks and as they were in the midst of preparing it had happened again only four days later. This time it was one of Edith's old gossip buddies, Shirley Fritz.
When the neighbors of the Fritz didn't see Mr. an Mrs. Fritz for two days they had decided to call the cops for a wellness check. The cops showed up and discovered Shirley and her husband, Alan murdered. They were both in their bedroom, sliced to pieces like the first two and Mr. Fritz died while trying to load his shotgun. He sat against the wall still holding the unhinged shotgun in his dead grasp.
The same night they were discovered the cops received another call this time from another young single mother, Ms. Cecilia Hampton. She called to report a man who was peeping inside her bedroom window, and when she noticed him in the window all he did was smile. After she had picked up the phone the man had taken off. The cops investigated outside and found the same shoe impressions in the dirt that had also been found outside the other murder scenes bedroom windows. The news was the icing on the cake that made some residents decide to leave town. They called and went to stay with relatives or in motels by the week until this storm passed over.
Feds showed up as the small town made national headlines for the first time since it was incorporated over a century prior. The Feds gave their profile on the killer and it went as follows. - a single white male between the ages of 35 and 45, who might have military training and his crimes displayed a lot of emotion. They considered it would be a man who lives alone and recently went through some kind of traumatic 'life changing event'. When the detective told the Fed's about the dreams that woman had reported to him about a peeping tom and they dismissed it immediately. They had barked that this killer was only interested in blood from the fact that the last two female victims hadn't been raped. They suspected that he got over excited after his first kill and tried to enjoy it for longer. Only that hadn't worked and he left the sex at home for all his murders since. The feds acted like big shots like their theories where the only ones that held any weight around here. A few days went by with no progress being made as the Fed's and local cops were clashing their heads together. The friction was only beneficial to the killer and he seized his opportunity right out from under their noses.
The Patterson home was only two properties behind the police station near downtown and a call came in at 4:56am, of screams coming from the house. They responded by running over and as they arrived they heard the cries of children screaming out for their mother. They went in to find Mrs. Patterson dead by the same style as the other murders, and this time the knife was left lodged in her chest. Laid out on the bed with her arms out and legs together. Leaving a display for the officers to arrive too and the feds ate it up, saying he was 'evolving'. Her two children were covered in blood as her oldest had gotten the bedroom door unlocked and they had went in trying to wake their mother up. It had finally reached a epidemic level that couldn't be ignored and the Fed's ordered the town to enforce a 9pm curfew with road blocks and stake outs on all main roads in town.
Rellaville complied with the curfew in place with the hopes that they could finally get past all of this tragedy and move on. As the days went by everyone got more an more on edge as nothing happened and the suspense built. After a week of nonstop action flew past, this next week with nothing happening seemed to creep on by. The Fed's had kicked the locals off the case and had taken full control of the investigation. They were sure that the man would go into hiding as he had been busy lately and now with all the heat on the town he wouldn't risk a attack. They decided on day eight to end the curfew but keep the patrols and roadblocks active. Hoping that they could get the killer to poke his head out and show his face to them.
The first night was quiet just like the prior week had been but then on the second night a familiar call came in. Screams and a gunshot had been reported on the 1300 block of Orange Street. When the law arrived they had found Mrs. Johnson stabbed multiple times and Mr. Johnson holding his 38 revolver, still shaking from the adrenaline of having to use it. Mrs. Johnson was still alive luckily and a ambulance was called as they tried to get the story out of her husband. All he could say was that he had shot the man after hearing his wife scream in the bedroom. He busted in through the locked door and found the man on top of his wife, driving the knife into her.
While the Fed's questioned Mr. Johnson the local detective had shown up out front when he got another call from the dispatcher. It was a call for the Harris home and the caller had stated a person was laying dead in the front yard. The detective hopped right back into his car and drove the six blocks and was the first car to pull up on the scene. As he got out he noticed that the man was laying face down on the skinny sidewalk that lead from the street up to the front porch. He approached with his gun drawn as he announced himself, but there was no response. Once he got up close to him the detective nudged him with his shoe and after he still got no response. He bent down and rolled the man over to reveal that it was Thomas 'Tommy' Harris. He had blood stained all over his shirt and the two gunshot wounds looked like two craters on each side of his stomach. He called it in and as he checked for a pulse the man spit up some blood out of his mouth and came back to life. Tommy could barely move but it scared the hell out of the detective knocking back onto his butt. As he stood back up and looked down at him, Tommy was struggling to move and each movement made more blood pour out of his wounds.
"I-I-I-It was me" Tommy forced out and once the detective came to the realization of what he was talking about. He didn't even hesitate instead reaching for his holstered gun in a smooth fashion. The sirens of approaching police cars rang out in the distance and where speeding closer by the second. Tommy smiled when he noticed and relaxed back onto the concrete underneath of him. The detective pulled his gun and shot him right before his back up pulled around the corner. Revealing their flashing red an blue lights as the sound of the gunshot echoed through the neighborhood streets.
Tommy was shot right between his eyes and laid there motionless as the backup arrived. The detective turned and told the men that he had 'got him and this nightmare was over'. Rellaville could go back to normal now or whatever kind of normal they could sustain nowadays after the sage of the Harris family. Only there was even more to the story to still be revealed and those where memories this town wished they could forget. Some blamed themselves for speaking it into existence and the urban legend of Tommy began to take a new shape in the wake of murder spree.
The Harris home was investigated thoroughly, top to bottom and what they found was just as disturbing as the crimes that had spurred the investigation. The mothers room was unchanged and still had the faded black blood stains from her suicide on the wall like a lazy Picasso. It was locked from the inside and they had to go in through the window as it was padlocked by nine different locks. The bedroom that Tommy had shared with his brother growing up still had the two beds in it. Kyle's bed was stacked high with two stacks of 1 subject notebooks, in a array of colors. Each piled up over three feet above the mattress and as they started to examine them they found some very unsettling details. Each book had a different name written on the cover and they all coincided with family names of the local families. Inside the books there was information about the woman who lived in each respective house. What times was she alone, what was their daily routines and even do to if they snored or not. Page an page of useless facts that he only could have only of known if he was watching them from a far for a very long time. He even crudely would sketch the layout of their homes and of the woman's nude bodies. All in all when they were done they had counted 71 notebooks and each one with a different focus on a woman from town. Tommy must have been peeping on the women of Rellaville since before his mother even passed. He had gotten all of this information from peeping and he never once was caught over the years. That was one thing that didn't add up in that detectives mind.
They found another notebook under Tommy's bed and it was unlike the others in every way. In this one the boy had chronicled his life in the only way the barely literate Harris boy could. The notebook started out with explaining the story behind Kyle's disappearance.
It stated that Kyle had in fact returned home but as he did, his mother had decided to attack and beat him to death. In the living room as 11 year old Tommy had watched and when it was over she had made the boy clean up the entire mess. He then had to help her bury him in the dirt under the crawlspace, directly below their bedroom floor. Mrs. Harris had boarded up the hole and covered it back up with the carpet. Tommy said in his words that after this he started to see his brother in his dreams and he would tell him to kill his mother all the time. The boy was barely 12 at this point and no way in hell could he overpower an kill his mother. Besides he didn't want to, Tommy had always found himself on her good side but still the dreams persisted. As he wrote on he explained how the dreams had turned into hallucinations that would happen when he was wide awake. It started out that he would hear his brothers voice when he was in the room and it sounded like his brother was talking from his grave under the floor. Overtime he started seeing him only in the bedroom before it progressed to the point that he saw Kyle everywhere he went in the house. Then came the day when it finally happened.
The boy was now 16 and had woken up that day to seeing Kyle hovering above his bed. From what he wrote it sounded like his brother stayed right in front of him everywhere he went that day, telling him that he was old enough now and it was time to kill her. He fought it off all day as he had for the years his brother had already been harassing him but it got to be too much to handle. He snapped. Tommy had snuck into his mothers room following orders from his brother and grabbed the hand gun mom kept in her night stand. He hid it in his bedroom as he waited for her to go to her room preparing for sleep. Once she finally did he had walked in and when she turned to look at him he fired the gun. Right into her temple just as the cops had found her and his brother ordered him to stage it like it had been found by the authorities. After it was all done Kyle finally went away and left Tommy to go cry out on the front porch until the police arrived.
The story only got stranger from there. The next page went on about how Tommy had never spoken to a girl besides his mother in his whole life. His brother had came back and started telling him the information about different women around town. This was where he claimed to have gotten all the information found in the other notebooks. When he had a hard time putting what Kyle said into words, then his brother would make him dream about peeping through the girls windows. Tommy said over the next 5 years he acquired all the information about the women without ever leaving his house. He explained how he knew his neighbors thought he was weird even though they didn't know that he knew. Also Tommy was fully aware that Edith Graham was stalking him from next door. He would sit there and stared back at her for hours from a place where only he could see her. He explained how he felt like she could be his friend and she was the only other living thing that even noticed him.
He explained that he started taking the walks to get away from his brothers haunting demands. It became the only part of the day that he had control over and he enjoyed getting out of the only four walls he'd ever known. Over time though, the walks had become more about scouting out the different woman that he knew everything about. He would get urges when he saw the women out an about town and over time those urges wore him down slowly. Tommy became obsessed with finally having sex with a woman and as those urges grew to unbearable heights. He became powerless to fight them but he knew he had too try. At least until Edith kicked the bucket and then he wouldn't have a human security camera focused on his every move. It said that he knew Edith was losing interest but he still couldn't take the chance. That was until he saw the ambulance pull up the day she had passed away and that was all he needed as his trigger.
That night he had walked down to the Harrison house and watched as Tina got ready for bed. He waited for over an hour until he was sure that she was asleep. Tommy jumped through the window and started stabbing her instantly. He explained that when he was done he had tried to have sex with her for a little while but was unable to keep an erection. He had given up after a few attempts and then fled the house. His writings explained how over the next month he debated with Kyle, trying to prove him wrong. His brother hounded him about how he enjoyed the killing more than the sex and the reason he couldn't keep his erection was because he had already climaxed when he killed her. Tommy says he fought tooth an nail with Kyle over this debate but after three weeks he was convinced that his brother was right. His obsession became less about sex and more about just wanting to hurt people, the same people who had always laughed from a distance. The women he would never have the chance to talk to because they were already predisposed to thinking he was weird. So he went to his notebooks and started to pull random ones out of the stack and that's how he came up with who would be his next targets. He wrote on about the Caldwell murder and the Fritz double murder but after that was where it ended. The feds and the cops laughed at the ghost brother part and wrote him off as a mentally ill man who came up with the ghost brother story to feel better about himself and his crimes. The notebook was kept as evidence and the sheriff wanted it to be burned after the investigation was complete. Only for it to come up missing a few days later and was posted anonymously on the internet for all to see. Giving the painters of the new urban legend a wide array of crazy colors to make the story as colorful as possible. Some believed the supernatural stuff but most were skeptics and had the same conclusion as law enforcement had, had.
When the news broke that it had been Tommy Harris, the few people who had always been believers of Edith Graham got to tell the rest of them 'I told you so' even if it was very bittersweet. The stories of the notebooks unsettled everyone and they couldn't believe that the boy had been secretly peeping through all of their windows for years. The sheriff had also looked under the floor where Tommy had said Kyle was buried and they found him exactly where his brother said he was. There was no reason for the town to keep the Harris house around and it was demolished shortly after the dust settled on the newspapers from that day. The urban legend of the weird little boy had now grown up to be a fully fledged boogeyman for the town of Rellaville. Their very own home grown serial killer. Like all towns an cities, they all have some kind of urban legends. Peeping Tommy Harris didn't die, his legend only evolved and he would instill fear in the younger generations still to come. The new urban legend had become a conspiracy theory that most laughed at and it was all based on one simple question. 'What if Tommy Harris' story was actually the truth'? Could he come back and haunt the town of Rellaville once more like his brother had haunted him. Would he continue to stalk women through their bedroom windows just admiring their beauty and making himself want to kill them even more. As they go about their normal bedtime routines as he watches them in their most vulnerable states. When they think they're all alone. Those where the moments that had made Tommy Harris feel the most alive, even if it had been what ultimately got him killed.
Now even over a decade later the woman of Rellaville still dream of a man watching them from outside their bedroom windows. Some still wonder if it could be Tommy coming back to peep on them but they all but agree that it couldn't be him. The little town still had the shadow of the murders lingering over its head. Watching down on all the residents like a daily reminder to never forget the pain those Harris boys felt and how it felt when it was taken back out on them. Not a day can go by without someone in the town bringing up the tale of 'Ol' Peeping Tommy Harris' and they all listened to the broken record like they always had down at the diner." as the older boy finished his story, his best friend jumped out from behind him. Wearing a wolf man Halloween mask that scared all the kids that had gathered around the campfire with one last massive jump scare. Their screams echoed out into the empty forest as a black crow flew over the sign to the camp. The sign that read 'Rellaville Campgrounds' in big red letters. Legends never die.
submitted by TheFloridaHorrorShow to stayawake [link] [comments]

2020.08.01 14:00 Skulenta Respect Chucky (Child's Play)

WARNING: The following thread is NSFW. It contains blood, gore, drug use and doll sex.
Respect Charles Lee Ray, aka Chucky the Killer Doll "Hi, I'm Chucky, Wanna Play?" Charles Lee Ray (born March 9, 1950) is a notorious serial killer from Hackensack, New Jersey. Known as the Lakeshore Strangler, he was involved in a series of brutal murders involving voodoo rituals before his death on November 9, 1988.
After kidnapping and non-fatally stabbing a pregnant woman, Charles was pursued by police into a nearby toy store where he was critically shot by Detective Michael Norris. In his final moments, Charles transferred his soul into a Good Guy doll in order to keep his spirit alive. This doll ended up in the hands of six year old Andy Barclay where he continued his murderous spree under his new guise Chucky. For three decades, Chucky has gone through multiple families in multiple doll bodies exacting bloodshed and mayhem in the quest for a new human body to inhabit.
Source Key Hover over a feat to view its source.

Physical Attributes Toy Biology
Speed & Agility
Intelligence & Skill Trickery
Voodoo Soul Transference
Miscellaneous Remake In the 2019 remake, Chucky is a Buddi doll from the Kaslan Corporation. Made in Vietnam, Buddi are a line of high-tech dolls that can interface with the family's other Kaslan products and smartphone devices along with multiple other functions. When a disgruntled factory worker is fired, he disables the safety protocols of the doll he's working on before letting it be shipped off to America. This doll ends up in the possession of 13 year old Andy Barclay who, despite the doll's faulty behavior, develops a close bond with it. However, this bond leads Chucky into a murderous rampage to eliminate anyone who threatens Andy and their friendship.
Physical Attributes
Speed & Agility
Intelligence & Behavior
Technology Manipulation
The Buddi Bear
"Don't fuck with the Chuck!" submitted by Skulenta to respectthreads [link] [comments]

2020.07.30 18:18 youto2 Sex scene caught on camera

We open our scene, as we’re in the serviceable Nashville Municipal Auditorium, as we have a rowdy southern crowd on hand in the Music City! Some crowd members living up to the city moniker, as we see a few guys in what looks like novelty country get-up with acoustic instruments. As we pan over to our commentary table.
Paisner: Hello everyone! And welcome to another edition of House Party! I’m Allen Paisner-
Woodbridge: And i’m Mark Woodbridge.
Paisner: And we got another fantastic show lined up tonight! As we see battles such as Buster Braggadocio vs Viktor Ivanov following the confrontation by Romero and Buster against Vanguard at a McDonald’s. Marshall Wheeler looking to rebound from abandonment, and Jericho Styles looking to rebound from getting fucked up as they face off! We will see the debut of the unintentionally eccentric wrestker Dexter Flux against unintentionally eccentric medical professional, Doctor Ishmael Yellowstone. We will likely see Chip Rutgers get his ass whooped by Joey McCarty. And of course our main event for #1 Contendership to Kaitlyn Casey Jone’s Independent Title, as Dick Dover and Tony Stevens square off for a huge opportunity! Plus much more! But now, there’s one match I did not mention, and it’s our opener! We send it to Javier in the ring!
We cut to the ring to see Javier, who stands at the ready for the opening bout.
Javier: The following contest is scheduled for one fall-
Crowd: ONE FALL!!
Javier: and has a 30 minute time limit, refereed by Mia So Hung!
Repent by Shaggy hits the Nashville Municipal Auditorium as Ikbal Rizwan makes his way to the ring and fans reach out to high five the former QWF superstar as he seems happy to be greeted with a warm reception at the venue.
Javier: Making his way to the ring, from Islamabad, Pakistan, weighing 310 pounds, IKBALLL RIZWAAANN!!!
Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Woodbridge: Even the hicks out here in Tennessee know who Ikbal is and they’re hyped to see him compete tonight!
Paisner: This young man carried the entire QWF federation during its short lived existence, holding its World Title the entirety of its lineage and then bringing it over to WiR after our revival. He then held it for a few months longer before losing it in a unification match with the WiR Champion Kyle Scott, but Ikbal’s dominant reign solidified him as a threatening competitor and a dangerous opponent in that ring.
Ikbal Rizwan now makes it past the fans and to the ring and walks up the ring steps, and as he makes it in the ring he beats his chest and salutes the crowd as they cheer for him again.
Now, The Devil by Black Stahli plays and the arena instantly boos the evil looking man that enters as he begins a slow and focused walk to the ring.
Javier: Making his way to the ring, from Columbus, Ohio, weighing in at 223 pounds, SETH BLACCKHEARTTT!!!
Woodbridge: Blackheart looks completely oblivious to the arena of people who want to see him get dropped for the three count tonight!
Paisner: Last week he showed a sick lack of remorse after possibly giving a concussion to Jericho Styles, shaking the limp hand of Styles shortly after recklessly punting him in the head.
Seth ignores every single person jeering him as he remains completely focused on Ikbal Rizwan, who stands in the corner staring back at Blackheart with determination. Blackheart makes it to the ring steps and walks up before coming through the second and third rope into the ring. Both competitors settle into their respective corners without having taken their eyes off each other as Mia So Hung checks the boots, elbow pads, and kickpads of both competitors for foreign objects before calling for the ring bell.
Blackheart wastes no time extending a hand in the middle of the ring to Ikbal, who quickly moves forward to oblige before leaning back to put space between them but Seth keeps a hold on Ikbals hand and stares Ikbal down, but Ikbal has none of it as he kicks the hand away from his own! They stare each other down now, keeping their distance with much less trust than seconds prior!
Crowd: LETS GO RIZWAN! Clap clap clap-clap-clap LETS GO RIZWAN!
Paisner: Blackheart warned Rizwan in a cryptic video message that he’d better accept a handshake lest he end up like his opponent last week, but he might have narrowly avoided a nasty fate that left him laid out flat!
Woodbridge: I dunno, Pais, maybe Rizwan overreacted there and just didn’t expect a good old-fashioned gorilla grip handshake?
Paisner: Well, he coulda got hit with a gorilla grip spinebuster, so smart on Ikbal for immediately noping out of the handshake.
Blackheart and Rizwan now slowly circle each other before locking up in a collar and elbow tie-up, but Rizwan quickly overpowers and yanks Blackheart into a front facelock. Seth quickly backs up and the two bounce off the ropes and Blackheart pushes Rizwan to escape the hold as Rizwan now gains momentum and comes off the opposite ropes. Blackheart drops to the mat as Rizwan jumps over, comes off the ropes, and as he comes off those ropes with a picked up speed, Blackheart attempts to hip toss Rizwan, but can’t get the larger man off his feet as Rizwan counters and throws Blackheart onto the mat with an arm toss!
Crowd: YEAAAAA!!!
Blackheart quickly snaps back up to his feet clutching his back and tries to now put space between them but Rizwan runs at Blackheart and tries to clothesline him over the ropes, but Blackheart ducks as Rizwan goes over the top rope but skins the cat and lifts himself back into the ring!
Woodbridge: That man is over 300 pounds, the strength to be able to lift his own body weight back into the ring is remarkable-
A SMACK rings out through the venue when Blackheart immediately launches a chop to Rizwans chest as soon as his feet hit the ring!
Crowd: OHHHHH!!
Paisner: Remarkable strike by Blackheart to the broad chest of Rizwan!
Blackheart now launches another chop to the chest of Rizwan, who has his arms wrapped in the ropes so a 5 count is now administered by Mia So Hung. Blackheart ignores her and launches chop after chop into Rizwan’s chest!
Crowd: BOOOOO!!!!
Rizwan’s chest is now red as the chops continue and the count reaches 4 but Rizwan suddenly fires back and launches a LOUD chop that sends Blackheart to the mat!
Rizwan now picks up Blackheart to his feet and launches another loud chop, but this time Blackheart manages to stay on his feet, and throw a chop back, but Rizwan blocks it and now launches another chop that has Blackheart stumbling back into the middle of the ring! Rizwan launches another one and Blackheart is nearly on the ropes but as Rizwan approaches Blackheart for another one Blackheart ducks and launches himself at Rizwan’s knee with a shoulder block!
Woodbridge: Ohh! The sudden low strike after a series of chops seemed to have caught Ikbal off guard, as Blackheart has dropped his opponent to one knee!
Blackheart now backs up and tries to send a boot into Ikbals head but Ikbal ducks his head beneath and grabs under the legs of Blackheart to attempt to pull him down for a pin! But Blackheart isn’t pulled down, and instead launches a stomp right onto the eyes of Rizwan!!
Crowd: OHHHH!!
The ref reprimands him for targeting the eyes but Blackheart tells Mia to back off him for her own good as Blackheart stares down at Ikbal, backs up, and attempts to punt the head off Ikbal, who barely pulls himself out of the way by the ropes just in time!
Crowd: Ohhh!
Ikbal is up to his feet and throws a clotheslines but Blackheart ducks and hits a NASTY arm trap neckbreaker!
Crowd: OHHH!!
Woodbridge: He might have broke his neck the way it landed on his shoulder!
Blackheart goes for the cover!
2- No! Kickout!
Blackheart doesn’t let up as he now transitions into a headlock with Rizwan in seated position, choking the life out of Rizwan with a bicep around his neck!
Paisner: Blackheart is able to transition so fluidly between slowly draining the life out of you, and instantly knocking the life out of you, and having to anticipate which one he’s going for must be brutal for even as experienced a competitor as the former QWF champion!
Rizwan stomps his feet on the ring as the crowd begins to clap in a rhythm and rally him out of the hold, and a headbutt is launched back into the nose of Blackheart, who seems pained but keeps the hold on tight! Ikbal hits another headbutt to the head of Blackheart, right onto the nose, and the grip around Ikbals neck is becoming loosened as Ikbal lurches his head forward and swings it back for one more headbutt but Blackheart let go and instead uses Ikbals momentum to throw him to the ground and hitting a double foot stomp to the face of the grounded Rizwan!
Crowd: OHHHH!
Blackheart falls down for the cover!
Crowd: YEAAA!!!!!
Woodbridge: Ikbal Rizwan has been able to survive the onslaught of offense but he’s gotta turn this thing around, cause y’aint winning a match by kicking out at 2!
Paisner: You’re right, Mark, and we know that Rizwan is more than capable of unleashing that offense, but right now, he needs to find a way to reverse the momentum that Blackheart has been in firm control of with his brutal arsenal of offense.
Blackheart takes a breather in the corner now as he stares at a worn down Rizwan with a cold, calculated gaze. Seth grabs the ropes of both corners as if to restrain himself as he lurches forward, and Ikbal is on his hands and knees trying to gather his bearings. The crowd begins to see what Blackheart sees and begins to start getting loud and concerned in anticipation for the next sequence!
Woodbridge If Blackheart connects with the Punt here you might as well count to a hundred!
Seth has his head low as he holds onto the ropes and seems to have an almost trance-like stare at his grounded opponent, and the crowd is yelling at Blackheart not to go through with it, but he lets go of the ropes and gets a running start and a swinging kick at the head- NO! DROP TOEHOLD INTO THE STS!
Blackheart desperately claws at the arms of Ikbal but the Stepover Toehold Sleeper is locked in tight around the neck! Blackheart tries rolling over but Rizwan has a good 100 pounds on him and has the leg locked in, and Blackheart can’t get out from underneath the larger man! Blackheart looks tormented in the hold, his long hair hanging in his face as the massive arms of Rizwan wrench back tighter and Blackheart looks like he’s beginning to show signs of fading!
Blackheart looks desparate and has nowhere to go as he begins to lift a hand out for the ropes but there's none in the vicinity as the hold is locked on right in the middle of the ring, and as his hand begins to tremble near the mat he reaches back in a last ditch effort and claws at the eyes of Rizwan!
Blackheart now rolls out of the ring, grabbing at his neck and gasping for air as Rizwan clutches at his eye still and tries to tell Mia what happened but she explains she didn’t see it from her angle as Rizwan takes a minute to recover in the middle of the ring.
Paisner: Damnit, Blackheart resorting to such nasty tactics yet again in this match!
Woodbridge: Have you SEEN the fingernails on that guy? If I’m Ikbal I take the countout and go straight to the bathroom to wash my eyes out-
Paisner: Mark. Come on.
Blackheart has caught his breath and rolls back into the ring, and Rizwan is only just getting to his feet as Blackheart kicks him in the gut and puts him in position for a piledriver!
Paisner: He’s going for Penance, and if he hits this jumping sit-out piledriver it could be game over for-
Rizwan swiftly counters by wrapping his arms around Blackhearts torso, shifting his head out from underneath Seth’s legs, and hitting him with a northern lights suplex that he instantly transitions into a Triangle arm chokehold!
Crowd: YEEAAAA!!!!!!!
Paisner: IKBAL!!! Back in control with the Himalayan Suplex Clutch!!!
Blackheart yells in agony but this time he doesn’t let the submission sink in as he instantly summons all the strength he has to lift Rizwan up!
Crowd: ooooOOOOOOOOHHH!!!
Blackheart somehow lifts Rizwan almost above his own head but Rizwan lets go of the hold, manages to flip onto his feet, and Rizwan is swift with the go-behind and lifts Blackheart up into the air and slams him down with a suplex takedown!!
Crowd: YYEAAA!!!
Ikbal then maintains a gutwrench and rolls Seth into a pin!
Rizwan still has control of Blackheart and slides around to convert the hold into a grounded front facelock! Blackheart hits a right to the gut of Ikbal!
Crowd: Booooo!!!
And Ikbal counters with a right hand to the face of Blackheart!
Crowd: YEAAAA!!!!
Blackheart responds with a nasty slap to the face of Ikbal that seems to set him off!
Ikbal delivers a wicked chop that lights up the chest of Blackheart! And another! The chops resound with brutal thwacks as Blackheart is sent reeling against the ropes, but Blackheart stops the momentum cold with a boot to the gut of Rizwan!
Crowd: BOOOO!!!!
Blackheart runs the ropes now, coming off and attempting a big boot, but Rizwan ducks underneath, and hits a quick body scissors takedown with his legs before rolling up Blackhearts legs against his chest and rolling on top of Blackheart and folding his arms! The pin!
Blackheart reverses by lifting up his shoulders and now wrapping his arms around the torso of Rizwan, pulling himself up and spinning around before leaning down for a backslide pin, but Blackheart doesn’t drop Rizwan, instead lifting him up into a Crucific Powerbomb and throwing Rizwan into the turnbuckle!
Paisner: OH MY GOD!!!
As Rizwan comes off Blackheart kicks him in the gut and wrenches the head under his arm as he grabs the tights and jumps back and lifts Rizwan into a Penance Piledriver!
Crowd: BOOOOOOO!!!!
Blackheart goes for the pin and hooks the leg!
3- NO!
Crowd: YYEAAAAA!!!!!!
Paisner: Rizwan survives one more move! But can he possibly overcome the amount of punishment he’s taken over the course of this match?!
Blackheart seems frustrated now and lifts Rizwan to his feet once again, and sets him up in a DDT position.
Woodbridge: Looks like he’s answering your question, Pais! If he hits his Blackheart DDT, Rizwan won’t be getting back up!
Blackheart attempts to pull at the head of Rizwan but Rizwan snaps into action with a Northern Lights suplex!
Crowd: YEEAA!!!!
But instead of turning it into the triangle arm choke again, he maintains the grip around Blackhearts torso, bringing them both back up to their feet before planting another Northern Lights suplex!
Rizwan grips tight to Blackheart and swings his hips to turn back onto their feet, and with a tight grip around his waist and head under the arm of Blackheart, Rizwan goes for one more but Blackheart suddenly grabs a suffocating grip of Ikbal’s head under his arms and then grabs the tights of Ikbal and pulls him into a Blackheart DDT!!!
Crowd: BOOOO!!!!
Paisner: What’s he doing? Blackheart isn’t going for the cover, he’s instead clawing over to the corner- oh no.
Blackheart, now seething with a deranged look on his face, takes off from the corner and PUNTS the head of Rizwan!
The crowd’s sickened reaction seems to put a smile on Blackheart’s face as collapses onto Rizwan for the cover.
Javier: Your winner at a time of 12 minutes and 22 seconds- SEEETHH BLACCKKHEARRTTT!!!
Crowd: BOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Blackheart leans down and shakes the hand of the limp Rizwan before the ref separates him and checks on Rizwan to make sure he’s alright. Blackheart rolls out of the ring and ignores the mudslide of boos from the Tennessee crowd as he walks out of the venue as calm and collected as he was when he entered it.
Woodbridge: Good christ, he probably could have won with just the DDT! I get he wanted to put him out but that just felt excessive!
Paisner: Another opponent downed by the gruesome Punt kick, and Blackheart’s mean streak seems to only have just begun. God have mercy on this company.
Rizwan comes to eventually and waves off Mia So Hung but looks like he’s gonna need an ice pack as he now leaves the ring clutching at his head.
Our camera cuts backstage to Stephen Romero, having a salad peacefully in catering, before he is interrupted by one Tony the Milkman, entering, and holding a leather jacket in one hand, which is covered in a fingerless glove, and the cardboard belt in the other.
Stevens: Brother Romero, you seem to be having issues with… those who wish to harm you.
Jim Baker also enters, and stands behind Milkman.
Stevens: But never fear, Romero! Your old buddy Tony Tag Teams has a solution. You see when I was having my issues with that piece of shit Joey McCarty, I realize that what I needed even more so than the $2.75 I make when I sell a gallon of milk, is a friend. Somebody who watches your back and you watch theirs. I know you’ve been accosted already by Buster…”
Stevens holds out the jacket to Romero, which he tentatively takes.
Stevens: But I hope you’ll… consider joining our circle of friends.
Romero looks at the jacket in his hand as Stevens and Baker walk out, closing the door behind them. Romero seems to be considering the offer… for a moment, before throwing the jacket to the ground.
Romero: Nah, not feelin’ it.
Romero picks up his salad and heads out. The camera pans to over to the fallen jacket, where we see one Dexter Flux sneaking around the room. He picks up the jacket, tries it on, and walks out with the jacket on.
We cut to Chad Hammocks standing in front of a door that is decorated with small flags in the colors of red, white and blue. Chad awkwardly knocks on the door and waits for a few seconds. Behind the door you hear the music quiet down.
???: Shhh.. shh..!
A few second later, the door swings open.
Large group: SURPRISE!!!
Chad is flabbergasted, shocked as a smile appears on his face.
Chad: You guys.. how did you know it was my birthday!
The entire group looks on happy for him as Hammocks slowly steps inside.. until Louis Blackwater appears.
Blackwater: Nevermind! You’re not Dutch.
Chad’s smile disappears in an instant as we hear an audible sigh escape from him.
Blackwater: But hey.. that doesn’t mean you can’t join the party!
Chad looks on confused, staring back at Blackwater.
Chad: ..what party then?
Blackwater: This party! Let me show you around, ya ol’ chump! Come with me.
As the camera pans around, we see many homeless people wearing celebratory hats as they look around, probably looking for drugs.
Blackwater: We’re holding a party to celebrate Mark Dutch’s victory over Maverick last week!
Chad: ...where’s Dutch?
Blackwater stares around blankly before he turns back to Chad.
Blackwater: No fucking clue, to be honest. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t celebrate. It’s like how we celebrate Lincoln’s birthday on the 4th of July. He’s dead, but we still shoot firework!
Chad: That’s not..
Blackwater: Let me introduce you to someone tho I think you will really like.
With an arm wrapped around Chad, Blackwaters walk over to a rather large woman wearing neon colored short shorts and a fluorecent yellow bra that is barely covering up.. her. She stands there holding a hand full of cake which she bites from, seeing her inner mouthflap tongue sometimes appearing between her fingers to lick frosting off her fingers.
Blackwater: So this is… what’s your name again?
???: It’s Suga Rise, sugar.
Blackwater: God I love that woman. Chad, this is Sugar level. Did you know that she was a.. lady of the night?
Chad looks over at her, his eyes traveling up and down before he looks back at Louis, who looks back with a smirk and raised eyebrows.
Chad: I had an assumption.
Blackwater: NOT ANYMORE! It’s dangerous outside, Chad. Who knows who’d want to hit you over the head with a bat because you licked their butthole? Well she does.
Chad: Well.. congratulations on your.. improvement.
Suga Rise: Thank you, sugar. I’m an escort now.
Chad: what?
Blackwater: Yeah! She works inside now as we hired her here to add a bit more.. sex appeal, you know?
While Chad looks more confused about what he heard, all of a sudden the music playing gets changed from a happy tune to Five Finger Death Punch. Blackwater immediately looks over and sees a veteran messing with the iPad through which the music is played. Blackwater claps his hand and walks out of frame while he is heard shouting.
The camera still looks at Chad who is standing there with Suga. Her hand is now placed on Chad’s shoulder while she looks into his pockets, possibly trying to find a snickers bar.
Chad: ehh.. back to you guys?
We come back to the ring, where we see Jaiver standing, ready for more action.
Javier: The following contest is scheduled for one fall!
Crowd: ONE FALL!
The PA hits an absolutely ICONIC synth line as Duval’s finest rolls out on the finest BMX bike Walmart has to offer spraypainted tea. He’s wearing his signature Gators jersey and bright teal cargo pants.
Javier: Introducing first, weighing in tonight at 169 pounds from Duval Country, Florida. Chip Rutgers!
Crowd: Yaaaay!/BOOOOOOOO!
Paisner: what why is chip garnering such a strong mixed reaction
Woodbridge: Well, it’s all a matter of perspective. The WiR fans in the crowd see Chip Rutgers, cult hero and fan favourite. The locals see a dude in a Florida jersey.
Rutgers rides to the ring, but misjudges the steepness of the ramp and rides right into the side of the ring, crashing into a trampoline set up for Jericho Styles’ entrance later, and flipping into the ring onto his face.
Woodbridge: WHAT A SICK STUNT!
Paisner: I don’t think that was on purpose..
Woodbridge: EVEN BETTER!
Rutgers lies face-down in the ring for about a minute before pulling himself up on the ropes and standing, to the cheers of the crowd, just as they turn to boos when We get some real grimey guitar as Joey McCarty’s theme hits.
Joey McCarty walks out from behind the curtain… wearing a fishbowl helmet!
Javier: And his opponent, weighing in tonight at 235 pounds, from Woodstock, Ontario, Canada. Joey McCarty!
Paisner: Why does McCarty look like spaceman?
Woodbridge: I dont fucking know maybe he just wants to look like an asshole
McCarty runs to the ring, jumping over Rutgers’ bike, and rolling into the ring.
Rutgers grabs sand from his lowest pocket, and throws it at McCarty. The sand just kinda bounces off the face mask. McCarty just stares Rutgers down
Rutgers: uh
Rutgers frantically checks all his pockets, finding nothing but sand. McCarty begins walking towards
Rutgers: UH
Rutgers finds his fireball, but fumbles it. Panicked, Rutgers grabs for his last pocket, and throws its contents at McCarty. But it’s just cold spaghetti, and he misses McCarty and whaps Maurice Chondon.
McCarty grabs Rutgers and NAILS him with the Five Minute Major!
Javier: The winner of this match, at a time of 1:46, JOEYYYYY McCARTYYYYY
Paisner: Well Joey enters the win column for the first time in a while
Woodbridge: On the other had, the run of losses continues for Rutgers
Paisner: Yeah let’s scrape Chip’s body off the ring while we head to commercial. More right after this!
We fade in from the commercial break. We see that a table and three chairs are set up, one on one side, and two on the other. The crowd is at a lull in the action.
Woodbridge: Allen, you know you don’t have to do this. This is something that should be handled in private.
Paisner: Allen, what other choice do I have? I’m a man, and I’m going to fight this like a man. my back, okay?
Woodbridge: You got it, pal.
Allen Paisner stands up, and takes off his headset. He then walks over to the ring announcer, and grabs three microphones. He slides the microphones in, then slides in himself. The crowd claps, giving some support to Allen. He picks up the microphones while getting up, and sets them up on the table. He grabs one, and begins to speak.
Paisner: Are we having a good time, folks?
Paisner: Good, well as you saw on the last program, I was...served with paperwork. Now, normally, in situations like this, it would be handled and settled privately behind closed doors, but if that man, and he knows I’m talking about him, has any guts he’d handle this out in the open, so that the whole world can see what a pretentious little bitch you are!
Crowd: YAAAY!
Woodbridge: Get him, Allen!
Paisner: So I reserved this time tonight to address the allegations and such brought before me, and now at this time, would the gentleman or gentlemen...come down and let’s settle this thing, right here once and for all!
The crowd cheers. Suddenly a man comes walking out holding a leather briefcase. He ignores the sea of boos he receives walking down the aisle. He walks up the steps by the corner of the ring and enters the ring, awkwardly.
Woodbridge: Of course he doesn’t show up. He just sends his goons.
The man lays his briefcase down. He picks up a microphone and begins to speak.
Lawyer: Hello ladies and gentlemen, my name is Carlos Alberta. I’m the legal console for the plaintiff in this case, who wished to remain anonymous.
Paisner: Cut the crap, we know it’s Balandran, he’s just too much of a coward!
Crowd: He’s a pussy! clap clap clapclapclap He’s a pussy! clap clap clapclapclap
Alberta: Very well...I am the legal console for Austin Balandran regarding this case. He did not wish to be present at the proceedings, but he is watching via stream. Now, I’m sure you’ve read over the list of complaints and debts you owe to him. Now, of course the last thing we want is for this to go to we have a settlement offer.
Woodbridge: Oh lord, here we go.
Alberta: Recently, my client was in a match at one of your iPayPerView? I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with wrestling. But what I do know is the basic rules of the match. His belief, and my belief, is that he was downright cheated in the finish of the match. His shoulder was up, and the match should have continued. But the match was awarded to Daniel Smith, correct sir?
Paisner: Yeah, I guess. What’s the point, that was weeks ago.
Alberta: My client is willing to forgive those debts on two conditions. One, you acknowledge that the match was indeed flawed, and sticken from both men’s win loss record.
Crowd boos
Woodbridge: Oh come on! That’s ridiculous!
Alberta: And award Austin Balandran the number one contendership for the WiR Championship.
Crowd gets angrier.
Paisner looks around, thinking. He then pulls the microphone up to his lips.
Painser: Can I speak to your client? Face to face. This is something I want him to hear. I won’t give you an answer unless I can see him.
Alberta nods, pulls out his phone. He then calls out. The crowd quiets down a bit so they can hear, but the audio doesn’t pick up on what he’s saying. Then CASH plays over the PA. Austin Balandran emerges from the curtain. The crowd immediately boos. He has the world’s biggest grin on his face, like he pulled off the heist of the century. He spins around showing off his suit. He then enters the ring finally, and picks up a microphone.
Balandran: Well, Allen. Looks like you’ve finally seen the light, son! Now you know...that you’re not shit around here! There’s not a person around in this company who wouldn’t do what I’m doing to you right now. Only difference is, is that you pay them so little to where they would just rather leave than to FINALLY bring justice to your front door. And now, as you’re NEW...number one…
Paisner: Shut the hell up!
The crowd roars as Austin looks stunned. Paisner continues.
Paisner: You know, I’ve been thinking long and hard about the things you’ve said about me, to me, and to other people. And I’ve got to say, I may not like a lot of guys due to their attitude, but you...I hate you. I hate your stinking guts. I hate the fact that you blindsided me with money in order for you to get any kind of notice around here, and if you think that WiR would fail without you, our savior, mister, you’re dead wrong!
Crowd: YAY!
Crowd: Dub I R! Dub I R! Dub I R!
Austin laughs.
Balandran: But these people didn’t pay your bills, Allen. I did. These people didn’t make sure that everyone left with a paycheck. I did. Not Maverick, not Stephen Romero, and sure as hell not Kyle Scott. Me. So before you beat your chest, you need to remember who you’re speaking to. I am the de facto owner of WiR whether you like it or not.
Crowd boos.
Woodbridge: Maybe in an alternate timeline, but not here, and definitely not now.
Balandran: All you gotta do to save yourself and this company that you love, sign.
Alberta pulls out a piece of paper from his briefcase. He slides it over to Painser, who then smiles.
Paisner: How about this, Austin? Since you’re better than everyone else, how about this? First person to come out here, right now, gets a match with you at “It Just Means More.” That man wins, you drop your lawsuit. You get what you want. I’ll do it.
Austin grins. He looks over at his lawyer, who shrugs.’re on.
Crowd explodes.
Woodbridge: What a bombshell! But who’s gonna answer the call?
Balandran: But your man only has one minute to show up...or it’s just gonna be me and you.
Austin starts to move closer to Paisner, who’s trying to escape…
Woodbridge: WHAT THE HELL!?
Balandran turns around to see if his ears are deceiving him. He looks all around, trying to figure out what’s going on. He takes his jacket off and throws it out of the ring, motioning towards the entrance. Out walks…KLUTCH!
Klutch looks around. He takes a deep breath and then looks at Balandran. He points at Balandran, then starts to make a beeline towards the ring. Austin jumps out of the ring as Alberta jumps out too, wanting no part of this. Austin meets Klutch in the middle and they begin to trade blows back and forth. Klutch hits a big right hand to Balandran, causing him to retreat towards the ring. He rolls in as Klutch follows closely behind, chasing him. Paisner backs up, not wanting to be in the way.
Woodbridge: Balandran trying to get away!
Balandran turns around and is greeted with a swift kick to the gut by Klutch. Klutch then sets up Balandran for the Y2Klutch, but Balandran pushes his legs away and escapes the ring. Klutch then looks around the arena then back at Balandran who’s halfway up the entryway now. He points at Balandran. He then looks behind him and sees Paisner. He then pulls him in, and raises his right hand. Klutch’s music kicks back on and the crowd goes nuts.
Woodbridge: You know, typically, it’s hard to bet against Austin Balandran...but now with Klutch back in the fold...Austin’s in for a long night at It Just Means More! We’ll be right back folks once we get some order restored here. Hell yeah, Allen!
Paisner, wiping tears from his eyes, audibly saying thank you as we fade out from the scene
Camera fades in from the previous action
Dan Smith: "-and trust in god and his will, as even when you can't see it, it's at work."
Ain't No Grave By Johnny Cash starts playing, a slow moving montage moves along the Smith household, from the Mitt Romney poster in the garage to the rusted jeep to a grey scaled Book Of Mormon being read by Dan Smith to his litany of children, spread across the floor like a pre-school reading session. Each Child gets their own individual shot, intently looking at their father, who now smiles and tells them to go to their rooms
Dan Smith: Am I a little bit disappointed my title match hasn't been booked yet? of course. But what kind of a holy man would I be if I strayed from god's light and let myself give in to the sin of anger? I have been blessed by god to be put in this position and given the strength to whoop Balandran. Now I just have to wait around for the next chance I'm given to show god's gifts. But until then, I have to run some errands around the house before the ole ball and chain gets mad at me...she really can pack a punch dad laugh unlike some of the others on the roster. Anyways, I gotta head back to bible study.
The camera pans out, showing another kid clamped onto his leg
We come back to the ring once more, where we the threatening presence of Iron Man by Black Sabbath signal Marshall Wheeler from out behind the curtain. Walking with a certain determination to prove himself after being left behind, not paying any mind to the audience as he makes his way to the ring. Then shortly after, we hear another tune, as Comatose by Skillet signals the arrival of Jericho Styles, his head still bandaged up from being punted last week, but looking mostly functional as he makes his way down. Slapping hands with fans and kissing babies, as he reaches his trampoline, jumps on it a few times to his own amusement, before stepping off and entering the ring normally, as Undersach then calls for the bell!
The match starts off, as the two men circle around one another, before Wheeler makes the first move! Getting a go-behind on Styles, but Styles reverses into his own go-behind! From which he drops down and trips up Wheeler’s legs from behind! Dropping Wheeler face first onto the mat! Wheeler springs up onto his knees holding at his face, as Styles runs the ropes, and comes back to nail Wheeler in the head with a kneeling enziguri! Rocking Wheeler and dropping him to the mat, as Styles then quickly decides to go high, running towards the ropes, and jumping off to land a springboard moonsault that he pins off of! Getting a 1.5 in the process!
Styles then lifts Wheeler back up, and nails him with a kick to the left leg! Then to the right leg! Then he uses his left leg to kick Wheeler in the chest, then his right to kick Wheeler in the chest again! And then, he swings with the left leg for the head! But Wheeler catches it, and uses the leg to pull Styles in, and take him down to the mat with a vicious lariat! From there Wheeler goes on the assault, first stomping Style’s chest in, then mounting him to rain down forearms upon his head. Styles tries to crawl away, but Wheeler keeps Styles near his grasp, lifts him up, and whips him into a corner upon which he rushes Styles and nails him in the head with a vicious elbow strike! Then a whip into the opposite corner for another elbow strike! Then back into the original corner for a third elbow strike! Then back into the opposite for a fourth elbow strik! Styles seeming about to fall over onto the mat if it weren’t for Wheeler keeping him up, and bringing him closer to the center of the ring, where he whips Styles into the ropes, and finishes off the elbow string with a vicious spinning back elbow! Absolutely clocking Styles, dropping to them at like a sack of potatoes, Wheeler covers, but only for a 2.5!
Wheeler then goes to quickly get back on Styles, picking him up, setting Styles right in front of him, then swinging with his short arm lariat to finish Styles off! But suddenly, Styles kicks Wheeler’s arm away, then pulls out a desperation codebreaker on Wheeler! Leaving Wheeler completely dazed on the mat, as Styles can’t directly capitalize due to exhaustion! Styles then eventually begins to make his way up, Wheeler not long after, Styles seemingly prepared for this, as when Wheeler makes it up, Styles charges, and takes Wheeler’s head off with a shoryuken like jumping uppercut! Flattening Wheeler to the ground! Styles with a new found confidence, lets out a roar of determination! Before picking Wheeler up, whipping him into the ropes, Wheeler getting caught up in them, as Style’s comes in, and jumps up high for a springboard “rainbow” cutter! But he connects with nothing! Wheeler suddenly ducks his head under, and grabs Styles from behind in a rear naked choke! Styles panics, reaching for the ropes that seem oh so close to him, but barely unable to grasp, as Wheeler slowly backs himself off to the middle of the ring, Style’s struggling unable to save him, as Wheeler drops down and hooks Style’s in a bodyscissored rear naked choke! Fully locking in “Lifeblood”, as Style’s taps out!
Wheeler securing the win via submission in 7:01, takes a moment to catch his breath, before standing up, and looking down on the nearly passed out Styles with a smug satisfaction. Ringside crew assist Styles to the back, as Wheeler makes a confident stride there on his own two feet
submitted by youto2 to wrestlingisreddit [link] [comments]

2020.07.28 08:12 RockoCharmichael Sex scene caught on camera

Remember 2007? I’ll never forget it. I’d just finished my senior year and had officially stepped into adulthood. Just so happens that ‘07 was the peak of those internet shock sites. The one with the two women eating one another’s shit had spread around school like wildfire. Grossing each other out seemed to be the fad of the year, and eventually I’d had the video sent to me, disguised as something less than obvious of course.
“OMG Shay, you HAVE to check out this pic! Click it!” My best friend Sarah had said. I, naturally curious about what she’d wanted to share, clicked the link. That music was seared into my head as I watched the horror unfold on my computer monitor.
Sarah would likely be mortified to find that rather than pure disgust, there was a twinge of fascination accompanying my discomfort. A fact about myself that, until today, I’ve only shared with one soul. I couldn’t look away from the train wreck as those two women…did what they did. I watched the entire video. Twice.
Afterward I trounced Sarah with every cuss word I could think of, called her the biggest bitch alive and filled her messenger screen with pages of puke emoticons. She struck back with a volley of “lol”s. We then made plans to meet up for the weekend, and signed off. Well…she did…I merely went to invisible mode, and again clicked the link.
Now I’m no prude, but my growing obsession was not in any way sexual. My eyes were glued to the naked girls consuming one another’s waste for a different reason. A not-entirely explainable reason. I was captivated by the fact that not only were they doing it, but that they were doing it for an audience. I wanted to understand their why. In a way I identified with the unseen camera operator. To experience something like that, live…that had to be a once in a lifetime thing, right?
Over the school year, the spark those women lit grew into an inferno. I found myself secretly scouring the internet for similar videos. Sarah wasn’t my only friend, and like I mentioned before “getting” each other had become the year’s entertainment. I’d had to play angry each time a new video was sent my way…but in reality I hungrily watched each one with fascination.
I kept up my prissy ruse throughout the remainder of the school year, and then graduation came. With it, a boom of new additions to my messenger friends. Apparently even those I’d never spoken a word to wanted to remain connected as we spread our wings. One of those gained friends came in the form of Chase Lincoln.
I knew of Chase, but our circles never came together. I couldn’t remember us ever interacting. I accepted his friend request without much thought. It was a short time late…maybe a couple of days or a week…when I saw the blinking chat bar bearing his name upon logging in to my messenger. When I clicked on it, my heart almost skipped a beat. The link wasn’t disguised as anything cutesy…no, it boldly stated exactly what it was. I clicked on it, a bit disappointed to see that it was indeed labeled correctly.
My screen went to the familiar, gaping asshole of “Goatse” that I’d seen countless times. I sighed and closed the image. I didn’t know what I expected.
“Gonna have to try harder than that, bud.” I typed back absently.
Honestly didn’t even expect a reply. Usually the thrill for the shower comes when the victim of their prank freaks out, and I’d denied Chase the pleasure. So when I heard the ping, my curiosity was roused.
“Seen 2girls1cup?” He’d relied. Something seemed strange to me. His message was simple, and didn’t seem to be disappointed or anything. Just a simple question. Almost like…he was legitimately SHARING with me rather than trying to “get” me. It would explain why he’d brazenly decided not to shield the prior link. My heart picked up speed as I decided to test the waters…and my theory.
“Yea, a bunch of times.” I answered, and didn’t blink as I awaited Chase’s response.
He finally replied with, “Too mild?”
Suddenly my secret shame was thrust into the spotlight. It felt instantly like Chase Lincoln understood me…I felt seen, and with that a rush washed through me.
“After the first dozen times I looked it up its lost its charm.” I said back, my fingers trembling as I typed.
As I waited on his words, I realized I was ignoring every other blinking chat box…and I didn’t care. I was laser focused on the new revelation that I wasn’t alone in my morbid interest.
“Not for the faint of heart.” Chase’s words appeared on my screen, followed by a link. I clicked without hesitation, and my eyes widened as my brain took in a new image.
The body on my screen was that of a young woman, nude, in the process of having an autopsy performed on her. Her ribcage was opened, revealing her innards and her scalp had been removed exposing her brain. One of her eyes had been plucked from its socket and placed into her mouth, where it stared blankly at the camera. Her body was being degraded and molested by the mortician as well, as evident by the gloved finger inserted into her sex. The scene was grisly, disturbing…and I refused to look away until the “ping” of Chase’s chat box stole my attention back.
“Too much?” It read.
I hesitated a moment, my heart fluttering, my nerves burning. And then I responded with a single word.
The conversation went on, and I found myself sitting at my computer chatting with Chase long into the night. We shared our deep thoughts, our obsessions with the dark and macabre. Kindred spirits finding solace in being able to openly confess to one another. He understood me.
Days went on, hot summer sun burned above, but I found myself spending my days indoors indulging my dark side with Chase. He’d have a new twisted scene to share with me nearly every day, and of course I’d hungrily accept the offering each and every time. I knew that I was fucked up, but I didn’t feel like it when speaking with Chase. I’d frequently asked him where he managed to find such fascinating pictures and videos…I trolled the best gore sites I could find, but never once had I seen any of the goods he shared. He’d always replied the same way...
“I’ll show you one day.” He’d say. One day, he kept his word.
It was nearing the end of summer. Trees were in the very beginning of their color change, and the occasional cool breeze offered relief from the sweltering heat. Things were going as usual and our chat had turned to our mutual interest.
“I wanna show you a new one.” Chase popped off with.
“Yes please.” I answered back.
“No, this time I want you to see it in person. Its brand new, just posted, and I wanted us to see it for the first time together.” He replied after a moment.
I felt my face flush. That was honestly something I didn’t expect. Our dark curiosities had brought us together online, but the possibility that it would go beyond that never REALLY occurred to me. It felt more…exposed…that way. The very thought made me nervous, but as soon as my fingers touched the keyboard, I found them agreeing without any hesitation.
Chase sent me his address, and explained that his parents were out of town. I hurriedly got dressed, and was there in under twenty minutes. I’d not seen Chase since graduation, and was a bit taken aback when he opened the door of his home to me. His jet black hair was spiked up, and he’d elected to grow a bit of facial hair. It looked good on him. He wore a grunge band’s shirt and basketball shorts, and for the first time I saw the boy as “handsome”. He smiled, and wordlessly invited me in with a jerk of his head.
I felt awkward, and my nerves were on fire as I followed him up a set of stairs to his room. There was something else bubbling up inside of me, too…attraction. I caught myself eyeing his back muscles, and stopped myself before checking out his ass. We reached the summit of the staircase, and marched toward the door at the far end of the hallway.
Chase threw open the door to his room, and I saw what was inside. Nothing outrageous or anything. A few band posters adorned the walls, his bed was messily made, and in the corner, near the lone window, was a small computer desk. The screen saver on the monitor sitting upon it was the green falling text from the “Matrix” movies. It dawned on me that this was the very place he’d been communicating with me from all summer. Felt a little surreal, but not in a bad way.
“You ready?” He asked, his voice more gruff and manly than I imagined. I nodded as he wheeled the office chair out and offered it to me.
I sat and he hovered behind me, his warm breath on the back of my neck as he leaned beside me and wiggled the computer mouse. The descending green text vanished. On the screen I saw a strange browser that looked nothing like the one I used. My heart throbbed in my chest as my eyes scanned over the huge list of links displayed. They were labeled crazy things like “SawbladeUrethra.mp4”, and “”…disturbing…and right up my alley. Chase moved the pointer to one called “BabyHorseHead.mp4”. I felt his breath on my neck quicken as he clicked.
It was a dimly lit, concrete room that filled the screen. On the ground was the decapitated body of a horse lying on its side, blood spurting from what was left of the neck. My skin prickled as I watched the pool of crimson grow around the equine cadaver. The head of said horse was nowhere in frame. Then, the horror came. It was silent, but the screaming face of the newborn could clearly be seen as a masked figure stepped into frame carrying the baby. The adult held it lovingly, the little one propped against their shoulder as if it were about to be burped. That’s the furthest thing from what happened though…The masked adult knelt beside the spurting stump of the horse, and proceeded to roughly stuff the baby inside the neck hole of the animal feet first. My stomach turned but I as so often was the case, I could not look away. I watched as the helpless baby was shoved aggressively into the mutilated animal until only its screaming head protruded. The masked adult then exited the room without even a glimpse back, and the video continued showing the screaming child’s head on the dead animal’s body for thirty more seconds until abruptly ending.
“Fuck…” I whispered, finally managing to pull my eyes away from the screen.
“Yeah.” Chase muttered, and I saw his face was equal parts horrified and fascinated with what we’d just seen. He stood, wrapping his hands around to the back of his head.
That’s when I saw something else. My eyes fell to his lap, where his basketball shorts betrayed a certain…physical reaction. He stood at full attention. Perhaps he had forgotten he was wearing such loose fabric, because when he saw the angle of my stare he blushed a deep red, and turned to hide his arousal.
Suddenly…suddenly I didn’t want him too. Seeing him in such a state had bubbled up similar feelings within me. It wasn’t the video that did it. Neither of us were having the reaction from what we saw, but instead it was BECAUSE we saw it. I didn’t even realize I’d jumped from the chair until I found myself locking lips with the boy. Hastily, we tore one another’s clothing off, and made love there on his bed. He was a gentle lover, and everything felt so strong and natural as we reached the pinnacle together. I’d never felt so understood.
“You really get me, Shay.” He muttered as he lay beside me, recovering, caressing my shoulder. I moaned a sigh of agreement, and closed my eyes reveling in the blissful feeling. “That’s why I want you to help me with something.”
“Hm?” I questioned, my eyes remaining closed until I felt him leave the bed.
I watched as he shamelessly strutted toward his computer in the nude. I sat up, clutching the blanket to my chest, and stared inquisitively. He seemed to sense this, as he continued speaking without looking back.
“You understand. I want to be immortalized…like they are.” He announced.
“What do you mean?” I questioned.
“That baby…it probably died, we both know that…but the legacy it’ll leave…that’s truly special.” Chase explained. “That’s part of why I asked you over today.” He finally turned his face to meet my gaze. “ I need a camera person.”
From the drawer of his desk he produced a small camcorder. He held it up so that I’d have a clear view of the device. I didn’t quite understand what he was getting at, but the tingles had again washed over my body. I was feeling more alive than ever. I felt…well, lets just say I lowered the blanket, and exposed myself to Chase. He was letting me see him…the real him, and I felt the need to be just as vulnerable.
“Will you help me?” He asked sincerely. I was almost in a trance. I knew that things could only go badly, but his desire to be immortalized…his honesty and openness…I felt almost intoxicated. I nodded dreamily, standing but making no effort to cover my self. I extended my hand and took the camcorder.
“What are you going to do?” I asked, lazily opening the recorder’s screen and fiddling with the settings.
He turned and bent down toward the drawer again. I made no effort to avoid admiring his muscular ass that time. When he stood again, he held a pistol. I stared at it for a moment before silently pointing the camera in his direction. I made sure I had him completely in frame as he checked the gun to make sure it was prepared.
“My dad’s.” He said stoically. “This is all you need to upload the video.” He gestured with the gun toward the computer. “Plug it in once its done, and drag and drop the file. That’s it.”
I nodded, a small voice in the back of my head questioning what the hell I was doing, but that voice was drowned out by the much more boisterous, thrilling voice. “Once in a lifetime…” It exuded.
I pointed the camera at Chase, and pressed record upon his instruction.
“You don’t want to stop this?” Chase asked playfully as he pressed the barrel of the gun beneath his chin. Slowly, I looked up at him from the screen, and shook my head.
He grinned, and pulled the hammer back. The bullet clicking into place echoed through the room. Even though I’d been expecting the bang, it was louder than I thought it would be. Loud enough even, to rip my back down to reality. He’d fucking done it, and the moment that bullet ripped through his skull, my world changed. The boisterous voice dissipated immediately, replaced by my own screams.
“Oh my god, oh my god…” I hysterically repeated. I knew there was a possibility he’d pull the trigger, but a part of me…a big part expected him to chicken out. I thought he was testing me…no…no that wasn’t true. I’d wanted him to do it. I’d wanted to witness such a moment…but now that I had…
I fought to keep myself from throwing up as I looked at the blood spattered wall behind him, the red splash dripping on the computer intermingling with the green text falling on the screen. I shakily dropped the camcorder onto the floor, and gathered my clothes. All summer I’d been unable to pry my eyes away from the horrors displayed on a computer, but in real life I couldn’t force myself to look at the body of Chase Lincoln.
I should have stopped it. I could have. What had I done? These thoughts raced threw my head as I threw my outfit on and rushed through the bedroom door. I bounded through the hallway and down the stairs, pushing my way through the front door. I didn’t look back at the house as I leaped into my car and sped away.
I was sure the police would be coming for me. I was positive. I tried to convince myself to go to them, to explain what had happened...but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Days passed, and with each one my anxiety grew. Where the fuck were they? Surely there was some evidence in that house that tied me to it. I racked my brain every minute of every day, and came to the conclusion that the camcorder would certainly have my voice on it. Maybe that wasn’t enough to pinpoint me. Yeah, sure…just a voice that could belong to any girl. Then I remembered that there would definitely be a record of our conversations saved somewhere in his computer. There was no way the evidence wouldn’t lead them right to me. So where the hell were they? Weeks went by…months…all without incident.
The day I moved out of my parents house, and indeed the state…was the same day that I saw the “MISSING” poster. I was on my way out of town when I stopped for a fill up, and there was Chase Lincoln, staring at me from a small sheet of paper taped to the glass window. Missing. That made no sense to me. How could he be MISSING?! My thoughts raced as pumped the gas. Once I was finished, I hauled ass out of that town. I never went back. I’d somehow had a guardian angel watching over me, and that had helped me escape…
Thirteen years. Its been thirteen years since Chase Lincoln’s suicide. I still think about it quite often. I’ve since absolved myself of any guilt I felt. He was going to do it whether I tried to stop him or not. He’d had a gun after all, who’s to say he wouldn’t have shot me first had I tried. Telling myself those things has helped me. A mentally disturbed boy I’d crossed paths with…that’s all.
Today, though, my heart skipped a beat in a way it hasn’t in quite a long time. My smartphone dinged, letting me know that I’d received an email. My breath quickened when I saw that the sender was my own, old email address. The one I’d used to instant message with my friends thirteen years ago. The subject read “I KNOW”, and the body of the message contained only a single link. My finger trembled as I tapped it, and I clenched my eyes tightly closed as Chase Lincoln’s voice penetrated my ears.
“You don’t want to stop this?”

Rocko's Room
submitted by RockoCharmichael to JustNotRight [link] [comments]

2020.07.21 07:50 21Julmessy Daughter Be-gs Dad Por-n

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2020.07.18 23:42 OldmanRevived Sex scene caught on camera

First up was The Sunlit Night
In Norway during the summer, the night is a brief finger of dusk drawn between the day and the dawn. In her trailer, Frances (Jenny Slate) struggles for sleep. She tugs at the blackout curtains, but the sunlight streams in. Frances has already been struggling over the past few weeks, which is why she traveled from an unfulfilling life in New York City after seeing her artwork scathed, experiencing a break-up, learning that her younger sister (played by Elise Kibler) is engaged, and discovering that her parents (Jessica Hecht and David Paymer) are separating. She had to get away, and having turned down a prestigious art internship due to her ex-beau's influence, Frances went scrambling back looking for anything that was left.
She obtains an apprenticeship with Nils (Fridtjov Såheim), a quiet but temperamental artist whose latest work is a piece of installation art—a barn located within a Viking museum/village. Nils has begun the unusual project that he hopes will get him on the map again, quite literally. He’s painting a barn entirely in geometrically aligned shades of yellow. If the project turns out, the barn will be included in a nationally publicized (at least in Norway) art map of famous buildings. Frances is expected to work 12 hour days doing the grunt work needed to bring the project to completion by an unspecified deadline. The Vikings, who live in a community run by a dude from Cincinnati named Haldor (Zach Galifianakis), who commands a recreation of period life. They are just part of the reason why Frances is distracted from her long days at work.
If “The Sunlit Night” stopped there, it would make for a simple but effective understanding of an emotional and creative awakening. However, there's the other side of the movie, which concerns the happenings at Viking Village, and Yasha (Alex Sharp) enters the story. He's a suicidal young man taking the loss of his father pretty hard, and he's also forced to deal with his estranged Russian mother, Olyana (Gillian Anderson). Suddenly, there's a romantic connection between Yasha and Frances, with everything else on put the backburner to deal with people in need of finding temporary tenderness. Let me put it this way: the movie opens with one of Frances' abstract paintings being eviscerated by three critics. They find the artwork lazy, pedestrian, devoid of complexity and stripped of anything interesting. That's how I felt about the romance.
That is not the fault of the actors. Jenny Slate is wonderful in the lead role. Rather than play her as desperate or lost, she finds a unique space for Frances as someone with goals who is frustrated but not bitter and hopeful but without any overt optimism. It's a rather tricky part to pull off, as it doesn't give much room for big dramatics, and yet Slate makes it work with the force of her charm. Slate is rarely off screen in the movie, but we never for a moment tire of her presence. The supporting cast is just the right amount of quirky and authentic; the Vikings in the village settle things by community-wide debate, and they are also blessed with great verbal alacrity. They all act with a sort of natural appeal, and there are moments you will enjoy very much, but the movie still comes up short. Literally.
"The Sunlit Night" comes from a screenplay by Rebecca Dinerstein Knight, who has adapted her novel of the same name. The film unfolds in an episodic way, and themes make an appearance from time to time, but not consistently; the film is mostly about character and behavior. Although there are individual scenes of powerful acting, there doesn't seem to be a destination. That's why the conclusion is so unsatisfying: The story, having failed to provide itself with character conflicts that can be resolved with drama, turns to melodrama instead. The initial cut of the film debuted to poor reviews at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival. Since then, about 24 minutes have been removed from the running time, and you can tell that the trims haven't helped the pacing.
There are elements in the movie that click. Frances' artwork assembles areas of bold color with more detailed areas of text, figures, designs and scribbles - blueprints for a world in her mind. There are images that she keeps with her, and connects to certain faces she comes across: Renaissance art, the pre-Raphaelites, greeting cards, angel kitsch. The locations of Norway are, of course, breathtaking, adding cultural visuals to a tale about hidden beauty. In the end, however, "The Sunlit Night" is a disorganized, rambling and eccentric movie that contains some moments of truth, some moments of humor, and many moments of digression. I can't quite recommend it - it's too patched together - but I almost can; it's the kind of movie that makes you want to like it.

Next up was Father Soldier Son
When we first meet Brian Eisch in 2010, he is a longtime army soldier, a noncommissioned platoon sergeant serving in Afghanistan for months at a time while his two boys, Isaac (12) and Joey (7), stay with relatives. Their mother is not around, and Brian, even if on tour, has full custody. Both boys clearly adore their dad, who does his best, when home, to be active and present in their lives. He worries that war will change him, and not for the better. "Father Soldier Son" is a ten-year labor of love about Brian and his sons. It is a touching movie that, at first, might seem like a public service announcement, but eventually takes us into some touching personal struggles.
During that time, then-President Barack Obama sent an additional 30,000 troops to Afghanistan in hopes that a surge would swamp the Taliban and buoy the Afghan military. It didn’t. Eisch, who’d been in the army for 17 years, was stationed at Ft. Drum in upstate New York when he was deployed. Initially, we cut back and forth between Wautama, in Wisconsin, and Kunduz, in Afghanistan. But then Brian is shot, in a moment that he remembers only as "snap, snap, burn, chainsaw." His leg is badly injured, and he is brought home for medical treatment. What ensues is a harrowing series of procedures to save his leg, the result never foreordained.
From then on, Brian has trouble with communication, and there is a notable difference in his look in footage between his active duty and after his discharge. He has been emasculated. His identity is gone, and he can’t do the things he used to enjoy with his boys. You hear his voice simmer, and his face flushes with a hint of red as he noticeably starts to boil. This takes a toll on the kids. Isaac loses a little adolescent sweetness to teenage sullenness; Joey becomes a touch more wary around the camera. Some time between 2010 and 2014, Brian’s girlfriend Maria enters the picture, along with her youngest son, Jordan. She's an understated yet vital addition to the family, and they form a household in Lacona, New York.
When Brian makes the decision to have his leg amputated, and begins that new phase of life, it’s among the most illuminating in a movie with no shortage of insights. Always, the camera is there, observing the ebb and flow of life over several years. You see the alchemy by which a constantly present camera eventually becomes almost unnoticed, as people live their lives before it. What emerges in the story is the military's effect on this family, and what happens when the son follows the father's path. Brian says, believing Isaac will never make it to college, "If you do your job well in the service, you'll get promoted."
Brian is clearly a guy who still loves being a soldier. His t-shirts and caps mostly have a military theme, and the walls of his home are bedecked with military images. (We never hear him talk about politics, but you never have to wonder which side he's on). In a way, the military obsession seems preordained: Eisch explains at one point that his father really wanted a son in the military and he was the youngest, so he joined "by default." But he didn't resist it, he embraced it – and it’s obvious that he wants at least one of his sons to follow in his footsteps, even if he’s now taking those steps on one leg and a prosthetic. The documentary does a wonderful job at showing just how fast Brian's idealism turned into a bleak worldview.
The filmmakers (New York Times journalists Catrin Einhorn and Leslye Davis) shot 300 hours of film, editing it down to 99 minutes. Over time, they must have realized this was a much larger, and longer story. That means they were there for several of the dramatic turning-points in the lives of the Eischs. For them, there are reversals of fortune - life seems bleak, and then is redeemed by hope and sometimes even triumph. I was caught up in their destinies as I rarely am in a fiction thriller, because real life can be a cliff-hanger, too. It’s a gentle reproach, for the directors otherwise show great respect for their subjects’ commitment to the military life, even at the most tragic moments of the narrative (not all of which have to do with that military).
During the almost-decade that we come to know them, we become ever more conscious of their specific humanity and the universal story it tells. At times the narrative may seem too oblique; it is drama and melodrama, packaged with outrage and moments that make you want to cry. The overall impact of "Father Soldier Son" is never less than overwhelming. What I was left with was the goodness of Brian Eisch as a man. He was dealt a hand that might have destroyed him. He overcame his start and is now a wise and influential role model. He does unto his sons as he wishes his father had done unto him.

The last one was A Nice Girl Like You
The real problem with "A Nice Girl Like You" isn't its attitude; there have been plenty of funny movies about sex maniacs, and this might have been one of them. In this case, what's wrong is the sour, charmless manner in which the story is presented. This movie isn't about sex, it's about bedroom scheduling. The characters are mostly promiscuous, their genitals dictate their standards, and their lives outside the bedroom are exercises in stupendous banality. The gently wacky comedy overtakes the farce, and many of the movie's leaden, cornball choices and self-conscious distancing take away what little intended value it has. Aren't we all way beyond being shocked by sexual activities simply because they exist?
The movie begins with a straight-laced classical violinist, Lucy (Lucy Hale), who isn’t so much afraid of sex as she is unsure of how to make it work for her. Lucy's life is upended by the revelation that her somewhat skeezy boyfriend (Stephen Friedrich) watches porn, and he thinks that her disdain is actually indicative of her tense relationship with sex as a whole, saying that she is, in fact, "pornophobic." Lucy forces Jeff to choose between porn or her, and well, he packs up and leaves. She turns to the one thing that has ever given her a sense of control: a to-do list. The idea comes to her in a random, drunken flash of inspiration in the bathroom of a wedding reception where she's performing with her string quartet.
Lucy now has an obsession with learning about sex. Not only can't she get enough of it, she doesn't even pause to inquire what it is before she tries to get it. Soon she's exploring racy adult shops and trying out the wares, taking in the finest adult cinema and attending seminars of all sorts. Lucy also partakes in all of this under the guidance of her friends, Priscilla (Mindy Cohn), Nessa (Jackie Cruz) and Paul (Adhir Kalyan), all of whom somehow contribute to her porn education. As she careens from one contrived, relatively tame sequence to the next, the film never stops to examine why she’s so neurotic, so uncomfortable with expressing herself, or so tightly wound, in the first place.
Every item on the list is, of course, an opportunity for Lucy to humiliate herself and charm a dashing Australian man she keeps bumping into, Grant (Leonidas Gulaptis). You've heard of being too clever by half? Lucy and Grant are not clever enough by three-quarters. I cannot recall a single thing either character said that was worth hearing in its own right, apart from the requirements of the plot. They continue to Meet Cute at all of the departments of sexual experimentation that Lucy visits to tick off items on her list. What's more odd is that Grant, an architect, is hired to do jobs for nearly every sex shop in town. Then again, with those attics, he might be a regular.
It was a shock to discover the film is based on a real self-help book, "Pornology" by Ayn Carrillo-Gailey, published in 2007. If the story came from a real person's experiences, why is Lucy one of the more unbelievable characters in a film in a long time? The problem with Lucy is, of course, in the adaptation of the book to the screen, and the script, written by Andrea Marcellus, doesn't take the time to make Lucy a real flesh-and-blood human being that we can empathize with. Instead, Marcellus takes Carrillo-Gailey's to-do list from her book and puts this thinly-written character through the motions. The most interesting thing is how she goes along with the romantic plot with Grant, and even then, Lucy hastens to reveal herself as a shameless vixen.
The story babbles along, never achieving any remarkable narrative or emotional highs or lows, trafficking in every stale, heteronormative stereotype about men, women and sex, until all the contrived misunderstandings are ironed out, and the heroine gets the guy. But before then, the movie runs through an assembly line of routine situations, including bad jokes about eroticism and a shame-filled interaction with a sex therapist and her colleague psychic, before arriving at a sequence of astonishing bad taste. All sex comedies have scenes in which characters are embarrassed, but I can't remember one in which a set of newly purchased Ben Wa balls pop out of a woman's bits at an inopportune time.
And so on. There is not a moment that is believable, but of course the movie is not intended as realism. It is intended as comedy, but directors Chris and Nick Riedell fill the film's endless 94-minute running time with characters we don't care about, who don't care about one another except when dictated to by the screenplay, in a story nobody cares about. This is a very deeply non-caring movie. The concept is exhausted, the ideas are tired, the physical gags are routine, the story is labored, and the actors look like they can barely contain their doubts about the project.
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