Dreams for the Kingdom of Hearts

So I've been playing a lot of Kingdom Hearts, and KH3 is building up hype as it's approach accelerates. Many people are wondering what existing franchises Square Enix will add, and I've joined them. I'm not going to waste my time with dreams of Star Wars or Marvel worlds (I'd like it if they did make it though). I'm wanting some more surprising worlds. By that, I mean I want worlds of franchises that aren't just highly popular or somewhat popular yet easily translated to gaming. Disney owns a bevy of intellectual properties ripe for inclusion but will likely be left out. I've compiled a list of my own dream worlds.

1. Duckburg

The hometown of Donald Duck's family and the main setting for the cartoon "Ducktales", this city is perfect for a KH adventure. It's filled with complex structures for exploring, unique villains for fighting, and giant gold piles for diving. With the refurbishing of its classic game, Ducktales has become relevant again and could really stand out in the franchise. As far as a playable character is concerned, I don't think the main cast can offer us much. It's not that they wouldn't be fun for adventuring; it's just that Scrooge, Launchpad, and the triplets weren't designed for violent action. Luckily, Duckburg has resident hero Gizmoduck ready to join Sora and friends.
Team member: Gizmoduck
Main villain: Magica De Spell
Keychain: Number Two Dime

2. Danville
Home of the genius stepbrothers Phineas and Ferb from the Disney Channel cartoon named for the two, Danville would be a fun wacky world to discover and explore. Phineas and Ferb could supply a crazy novel setting while Perry the Platypus and Dr. Doofenschmirtz provide the action and adventure. This would also be an opportunity for the show to do a crossover special like they did with Marvel.
Team member: Agent P
Main villain: Dr. Doofenschmirtz
Keychain: "Summerplan" (Ferb's wrench)

3. Incan Empire
The "Emperor's New Groove" has all the hallmarks of a movie that translates into an ideal KH world: specific art style, varying locations, and endearing characters. What it doesn't have though, is a viable character to join your team. Kronk would be a blast, but it'd be hard to do if starting with the original story since he's not originally an ally to Kuzko and Pacha. Maybe if there was a secondary visit, he could join in the world's second act.
Team member: (maybe) Kronk
Main villain: Yzma
Keychain: "Imperial Groove"

4. Muppet Studios
Muppets are my favorite thing out of everything that was a thing. The problem is they just wouldn't translate well into KH world... But they'd make a wonderful mini-game setting. Similar to the Winnie the Pooh book that Sora Magically enters, Muppet Studios could exist as a TV show with missing segments that need to be found in other worlds. Sora could do things like launching Gonzo into the air or helping the Swedish Chef cook.
Team member: Varies depending on mini-game.
Keychain: "Rainbow Connection"

5. Treasure Planet
I've recently learned that there are a great many people that HATE Treasure Planet with a passion. I personally love the creative adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson's "Treasure Planet". The whole movie's theme of exploration and protection of great treasure from evil goes hand-in-hand with KH's whole plot. Also, a solar surfing mini-game would enjoyable.
Team member: Jim Hawkins
Main villain: Scroop (sorry, he's just more formidable than Long John Silver)
Keychain: "The Legacy"

Now even though I'd love to see these unlikely franchises folded into the KH universe, I'd still like to see some of the more obvious world choices. I won't bother with arguments for inclusion because it's unneeded, but I'll give a quick rundown of what's likely to happen.

6. "Arendelle" from Frozen
Meet up with Elsa after her isolation first so she can immediately join the party, fight her Heartless-possessed snow monster, catch up with Anna and Kristoff, and eventually battle magically enhanced Hans.
Team member: Elsa
Main villain: Hans
Keychain: "Act of Love"

7. "The Sun Kingdom" from Tangled
Meet Flynn, meet Rapunzel, follow basic plot with Mother Gothel allying with Heartless or Nobodies, and get a frying pan inspired Keychain.
Team member: Flynn Rider
Main villain: Mother Gothel
Keychain: "Sun Braid"

8. "The Bayou" from The Process and the Frog
Meet Tiana and Naveen as frogs, Donald tries to cute them and turns the party into various swamp creatures, fight Dr. Facilier and his friends from the other side, and cry when Ray dies.
Team Member: none
Main villain: Dr. Facilier
Keychain: "Swamp Rose"

9. "Monstropolis" from Monsters Inc.
Turn into monsters, join Sully, save Boo from Randall and Mr. Waternoose, and find the keyhole on Boo's door.
Team Member: Sully
Main villain: Randall
Keychain: "Screamer"

10. "Dunbroch Hold" from Brave
Join Merida and fight a bear.
Team Member: Merida
Main villain: Mor'Du
Keychain: "Will-o'-the-wisp"

There you have it. Ten possible worlds for Kingdom Hearts III. I hope to see all of these included in some form but don't expect it.

The Secondary Visits

The Secondary Visits

     Jacob traipsed through the city under the bright morning sun. The citizens were in great spirits on this Christmas day, but Jacob felt dragged down. The weight he carried always felt heavier in cheery company. He tried to avoid people as they passed. They couldn't touch him of course, but the living rarely enjoyed the presence of a cursed spirit.
     It was rare for people to see spirits anyway, but sunlight made it impossible for some reason. Jacob wasn't sure if he liked that or not. It made his heart even heavier to be reminded how alone he was in his travels. Today though, he was relieved that his presence was less likely to be sensed. He was pleased to harden his solitude if it meant lightening the general mood of others. It was a brand new feeling no doubt brought by the his actions the previous evening. Any pleasure was welcome in his eternal torture.
     As he turned the next corner, Jacob noticed a child. Neither the age nor the sex of the child could be determined, but one thing was certain: it was looking right at him. Jacob looked behind to see who must be behind him. He saw no one. The child approached. It's hair was bright and billowy in the sun and wind; it looked almost like flames. And then it spoke to him.
    "My apologies, Jacob. We may have been spurned by your friend, but you? You were spurned by us. Your partner was offered cheer but denied himself of it. You never had such a choice. We abandoned you and never taught you to give. We very well may have led you to your doom. And yet, you gave your only friend the only thing you had to offer. For that and my crimes, I reward you with this."
     Jacob watched in astonishment as the child reached up to his ghostly face and yanked his bandage off. Amazingly, his jaw stayed in place.  Jacob couldn't decide what not to believe: the fact he could be seen and touched or that he was given a small amount relief. As soon as the cloth was removed, the child's own jaw drooped as his once did. The child disappeared before he could say anything.
     Jacob knew not who the child could be, but he was certain that he should have. Was it a real child, a emotion spirit, another ghost? He walked on again as his curse demanded. But what trouble was a curse when his face was whole again? He trudged on until he noticed another face that seemed to be able to see him.
     The second face was bearded and belonged to a man of great size. A foot taller than any man near him, the man should certainly garner much attention. But no, the folk who passed him paid him no heed. They did seem to grow more cheerful when they did pass. The man was wearing a great fur cloak and approached Jacob with a great smile.
     "Jacob, my man," the giant bellowed. "You've done me a great service. I am often cheered by the newfound joy of the miserable on my day, but to have it happen to such a miserly curmudgeon! Such a service to turn me toward him! I may be more about giving than taking, but I believe you deserve to have something taken. That pace! I'll have that. Go ahead then, stop walking."
    The man kept walking on, but Jacob stopped. Jacob finally stopped. He was so overcome with relief, he could dance. But he didn't. He didn't have to move. While others might have jumped with joy, Jacob did the one thing he had been longing for; he lied down. He may have still had his chains, but he was lying down.
     As he lied there in the street, he felt a presence approaching. A hooded figure stood over him. Jacob was certain he should know this person as he should have known the last two. It took a long time for the figure to speak, but he sounded familiar when he did.
    "It is not in my nature to speak, but you seem unwilling to move what I would show you. You've done us a great service, Jacob Marley. You've shined light on poor forgotten Past. You gave a generous present to Present. And to me, dreaded Yet to Come, you gave hope. All this, you did to protect Ebenezer Scrooge from your own cursed after life. You are not the Jacob Marley who was buried with one mourner. And with that, I give you the same gift you gave me."
   The figure gathered all of Jacob's chains in its arms and pointed at the links bound to his wrists.
    "Do you see this Marley? There are chinks in your chains. There is nothing that can break these binds. Nothing but sacrifice. You endured the pain of stopping your travels so that another might not suffer them. That weakened your chains enough so that I might do this."
    The figure gave a mighty heave and broke off Jacob's weighted bonds. Such relief Jacob had never known. He stood abruptly as the chains bound themselves to the figure. Why would anyone take on such a curse?
     "What are you doing," Jacob exclaimed. " those heavy chains bind their bearer to the earth. You are stuck here. Never free to go where spirits should. I built those chains with my own greed, I chose to travel when I turned away others, and I loosened my own jaw by my own accord. Why would you spirits take such burdens?"
     "Because they are gifts," the figure explained. "Gifts are returned by more gifts. What is more, these are not burdens for ones such as us. Past may have a loose jaw, but the past can be forgotten so that shall be. Present is now doomed to walk for the rest of his eternity, which will last another 16 hours. And I may have to bear these chains, but I am the future and no one future is certain. Go now, Marley, and embrace your death."
     The figure vanished, and Jacob was left to do as he pleased.

Treatment for Superheroes

             So you're having some trouble and have to come to group therapy, huh? That's OK, though because I have good news. You are a superhero. The question is, "what kind are you?" Are you Superman or Batman.
          Superman is the epitome of superhuman. He has so many natural abilities that he has virtually no problem overcoming his villains. He has flight, superspeed, strength, and a couple hundred supervisions. He has nothing to overcome in his everyday superheroing.
           Batman however, is completely human. He wasn't born with any powers or abilities. He can't fly, or outrun bullets. He's just a normal guy doing the job of demigods. And if you're in this program, that means you're probably a batman. But don't fret. That's a good thing.
             You see? Batman may not have been born with any special powers to be a superhero, but he overcame that by developing the tools he needs to do it anyway. He couldn't fly, so he got a grappling hook and a glider's cape. He had no superspeed so he built a bunch of vehicles. He had no super strength so he developed what strength he had.
             As you go through treatment, you are going to see "Supermen" who can go through their lives simply because that's what they're supposed to do. But as a "Batman", you went through a terrible trauma that made you painfully aware of your shortcomings.
           And that's why your here. So that Alfred and Robin can help you build the Batmobile, sew the Kevlar into your suit, and patch you up when the bad guys are just a little too tough.

Powers Pharm. Chronicles: Meredith Rosen's Journal #1

My name is Meredith Rosen. I'm an intern for Powers Pharmaceutical at their clinical trial facilities in the middle of Kansas. I don't want to sound melodramatic, but if you're reading this I'm probably either dead or missing. And for everyone's sake, let's hope I'm dead.

I hope I put this all down right. I don't completely understand what's going on, but Cal insisted that I be the one to write it out. He said it's the only way it'll be believable. I asked who needed to believe it. He said "anybody", but he paused first, and his eyes got real sad for a second. I would think he was hiding something from me if I didn't know it for a fact. He insists I'll know everything I need to know when I need to know it. I'm sorry. I'm getting distracted. I need to start at the beginning.

When I started my internship, I was nothing more than a gofer who occasionally got to work with testers. I never got to know what was being tested or even who got the placebos. I merely read a generic orientation packet out loud to test subjects and got them anything they needed. Yep, I was a gofer for them, too. That all changed the day of the fire.

I was getting more orientation packets from a supply closet when the alarm went off. We usually had drills that time of month so I didn't hurry up too much as I headed towards the exit. As I opened the closet door with an armful of packets, Dr. Newport slammed into me sending my booklets and his files into the air. "Watch it!" He scolded. "There's a fire coming from the South dorms, you should be already be outside." He quickly scooped up his files and continued down the hall.

I didn't know what Newport's deal was. The alarm had just gone off, and the South dorms weren't open. We didn't have enough testing to need the South dorms currently. At least, that's what I was told. Even so, I picked up my packets and then picked up my pace. As I adjusted my load, I realized Dr. Newport had missed a patient file. It wasn't a name I recognized though. The folder said "Calvin Berendt- Active". But I knew all of the actives. Didn't I? Even stranger was that the folder had a company logo on it but not Powers Pharm. It was for "Gall & Finn". The engineering firm? Why would they need a clinical trial report?

I finally made it outside and joined the rest of the staff. The doctors were in kind of a strange huddle by themselves with a security guard I'd yet to meet keeping watch. "Dr. Newport," I called, "you dropped your folder." Without saying a word, the guard stepped in front of me and blocked me from the doctors. As the occupants of the huddle turned towards me, a few stifled gasps could be heard. "Who's Calvin Berendt," I asked as Dr. Newport took the file back. "And why would his file be sent to an engineering firm?"

Dr. Newport's eyes and nostrils widened as his mouth tightened. "You're fired," he said plainly. I was taken back for a second. "I- I'm sorry?" I asked.
"And you should be," he retorted. "These are confidential files and interns are not to be viewing them."
"'Not viewing them'? I sort your files all the ti-"
"Leave now, or you will be sued as well."

My response stopped before it hit my lips. I sorely wanted to fight him on it, but Powers as some serious money and even more serious lawyers. My desk wasn't even worth emptying (there was nothing there but my lunch anyways) so I just got in my car and drove home.

I know what you're thinking; "Wow! That was quick. Not much of a story." That's what I thought too. Until I got home. I live in a puny little basement apartment beneath the house of a little old lady that only let me move in because she believed a pharmaceutical internship means free prescription drugs. Not the kind of place to have a Porsche in the driveway. Especially not a Porsche you know belongs to the president and C.E.O of Powers Pharmaceuticals.

Dr. Powers sat stiffly in a rocking chair on the porch while my landlady, Mrs, Wells, tried in vain to offer him refreshments. "Ah, Miss Rosen," Dr. Powers greeted as he stood without a smile, "I didn't think I would beat you here. You're landlady has been kind enough to -ahem- entertain me while I waited." "Can you get me my pills free or not?" Mrs. Wells interrupted. Dr. Powers responded with a sideways glance and a couple of blinks.

"Not to be rude," I said politely before Mrs. Wells could ask again, "but is there a reason you're here?" Dr. Powers shook himself out of the uncomfortable staring match. "Maybe we could continue this in your apartment," he suggested. I led him through the back door and slammed it shut before Mrs. Wells could follow. I offered him a chair, but he declined, so I stayed standing myself.

"I came to let you know that you will not be terminated," he said without any emotion. Dr. Powers is about 55 years old, average height, with dun colored hair. He spoke quietly but firmly and with little emotion. "Dr. Newport made a mistake," he continued, "there's no way you could have known it was a confidential folder he was borrowing from my own files. He dropped it, and you were just trying to help." I nodded in agreement. "And besides," he added, "It's not like you actually read it, right?"

He said it rhetorically, but he gave me a searching look. He was actually asking me if I read it. I hadn't, of course, but for some reason, I didn't want him to know one way or the other. I have no idea why, but I responded, "and what if I had?" He studied me harder as I just stared at him. What was in that file that he would come to my place to question me.

"Perhaps," he finally said, "I can make an apology for Dr. Newport's behavior by giving you a promotion." Not at all what I was expecting. "As you've no doubt figured out," he went on, "we have a few trials that aren't general knowledge to the staff." He studied my face again after making that comment, but I refused to give him anything. "We've recently had an opening in the staff for these confidential trials, and I would like you to fill it."

I should've just enthusiastically agreed and thanked him, but I still had an inexplicable urge to not give him too much. "What's the job?" I questioned. He gave up studying my face. "Daily interviews with a test subject," he explained. "You'll be spending time each day with him while logging his physical, mental, and emotional state every half-hour and conduct an interview before leaving each day. You'll report directly to Dr. Newport and sending me your logs once a week."

"All this for one tester?" I asked. "Who's the V.I.P."

"I thought that was obvious," he stated with a raised eyebrow. "It's Calvin Berendt."

                                                                             

After an entire day of orientation and signing of confidentiality agreements, I was led down to the South dorms. "I thought there was fire in here," I commented to Dr. Newport as we passed our key cards over the security pad to open the door. "Oh, there was," he assured me. He was much more agreeable now that I wasn't a security risk. "But we have fires all the time. We usually have them contained and don't bother with the alarms. This time, however, your predecessor, Cynthia Umber, was injured so we pulled the alarm to be safe."

"Why would you have fires all the time?" I asked bewildered, as I followed him through the halls. "It's a part of our weight-loss trials," he explained placidly. I stopped walking and gawked at him. "And why would fires be a part of the weight loss trials?" I asked even more bewildered.

Dr. Newport stopped at a door and turned to chuckle softly at me. He motioned for me to follow inside and brought me into what looked like a work-out room with no work-out a equipment. All it had was mirrors along one wall, a linen cart with fresh towels and sweat-pants of various sizes, and a fat guy. He was tall with short blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a sweet childish smile. He wasn't ugly by any means, just flabby.

"This, Miss Rosen," Dr. Newport explained, "is your test subject, Calvin Berendt." Calvin stepped forward to shake my hand, but he hesitated and looked like he was trying not to smile too much as he squinted at me. He finally snapped out of it. "Please, call me Cal," he insisted.

"Cal, don't you think we should show Meredith your work-out routine?" Dr. Newport suggested.

"Absolutely," Cal agreed. "Good thing I wore my asbestos panties," he said with a wink. I had no idea what that meant.

Cal stepped to the other side of the room in front of the mirror and took a stance with his arms by his side and his fingers slightly curled over his skyward palms. He took deep breaths and his chest puffed out as he flexed his every muscle. He just stood there concentrating for a while; his nostrils flaring with his forced breathing. After a few more moments, before my eyes, Cal Berendt burst into flames.

I screamed and grabbed a towel to go put him out, but Dr. Newport grabbed my shoulder and shook his head with a smile. "Just keep watching," he insisted. I set the towel down and looked with unease at the burning human in front of me. The fire had fully engulfed his body, so all I could really see was a pillar of flames.

After several uncomfortable minutes, the fire died down and there stood Cal, completely unharmed and wearing nothing but sleek black briefs. But this wasn't the Cal I just met. This Cal didn't have any flab. His fat had been replaced with tight well-toned muscle. His skin seemed a little loose, but other than that, this guy was perfectly fit.

"Tell me, Meredith," he grinned as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants off of the cart, "Can you tell I've been burning the calories?"

Harry Cleese: Part 6 "Driving Manny Boris"

Cleese gripped the wheel tight as he spun the car to avoid yet another charge from Manny's bike. Cleese wouldn't have thought a Harley would stand much of a chance against Elias' Chariot, but this hog had tusks-- literally. Manny had attached four-foot steel spikes to each side of the frame. Cleese had already narrowly avoided them once and then narrowly avoided the tree they tore down in his place. Every time he heard another squeal of the hog pivoting, Cleese's heart jumped as he sped out of the way.

Kieran's advice seemed so simple; chase manny up the mountain, find some ice, pull him out of the snow when he slips off the road. There was just one problem: Manny Boris didn't like being chased. In fact, he was the one that usually did the chasing. Compared to the Mitsubishi, Manny's hog had the better maneuverability and speed. Cleese just had to hope it didn't have the better traction.

It started to dawn on Cleese that guiding Boris up the mountain was going to be about luring, not herding. Cleese poked his head out the window and taunted Manny. "Boris, you fat pig! You really think you're a part of the ol' Empian family? Why don't you catch me, and I'll show you how a real enforcer acts." The loudest squeal yet could be heard as Manny peeled out after Cleese who had taken off towards the mountain range.

The mountains were the first place Cleese had ever learned to drive. Kieran had firmly believed the mountains were the only place to train a driver. "Go up a mountain and you've got the worst a driver could get," Kieran used to say. "Just in one trip, you've got winding roads, rain, sleet, hail, snow, cliffs and rocks. If you can master that, you've mastered the road." Kieran wouldn't even take young Harry in for his driving test until he could go up and down Mount Cadia thrice in one day without a dent. Cleese could handle a mountain. He had to hope Manny couldn't.

Cleese zig-zagged through the foothills. The twisting roads wouldn't be a problem until the higher altitudes. After getting just out of sight a little bit up the mountain, Cleese turned in to a hidden cave that was just big enough for the Chariot. He used to find shelter in it to avoid hail as a kid. Manny tore past behind him, and Cleese calmly backed out and followed the biker.

By the time Manny realized Cleese was now behind him, they had gotten to the narrow cliff's edge that required every bit of concentration to navigate. Boris had no room to turn around and didn't dare to stop with Cleese right behind him. Cleese wasn't going to run him off the side of a cliff (Manny Boris was wanted alive), but he had to make sure he kept Manny going until they got to the nasty stuff. Just as they pulled back onto more stable ground, it started to sleet.

In the Chariot, Cleese was pretty warm and cozy. On the hog, Manny wasn't. Kieran proved to be right about the ice causing problems. Manny was wobbling on slight curves so he certainly wouldn't try pivoting around in the sleet. Once it cleared up, Manny still couldn't turn around because he was too cold and numb to maneuver properly.

After a few minutes of clear weather, Cleese herded Manny up a dirt path. A few more minutes after that, the path broke into a clearing that was split perfectly into two halves: snow and grass. Cleese took his chance and just tapped the hog with the Chariot. Manny panicked and turned into the snow. Thrown from his bike, Manny landed in the soft thick snow.

Cleese climbed out of the Chariot and approached Manny cautiously. The biker wasn't moving. Cleese gingerly removed the helmet to reveal a plump face with a snout-like nose, mangled teeth that seemed to come straight out, and a thick bristly mohawk on top. Cleese bent down to check his pulse and was so surprised when Manny snorted that he thumped him with his baton.

Cleese drove all night back home with hog-tied Manny struggling in the back of the chariot with his disassembled bike. Cleese went straight to the tire shop where Gene was congratulating himself on finally finding the killing job. Cleese stormed in and pushed the snarling and snorting Manny at his cousin. Frightened, Gene jumped into a stack of tires.

"What are you doing!" Gene stuttered from his hiding spot. "Get that sick fuck out of here."

Cleese smirked and dragged Manny out. "That's one more favor done. I'll be back tomorrow when you will have the next one lined up."

Harry Cleese: Part 5 "Cry for Kieran"

After a full day's trip, Cleese pulled up to his uncle Kieran's ranch. Gene had sent him out of state to take care of a reputation problem. Years ago, Missy had had to hire an outside contractor named Manny Boris to find a man who had attacked one of her girls. The man had been a golden boy back in his home town and was being hidden by the community. Manny tore apart the city, threatening it's citizens, and asserting his dominance. The problem was that after he took care of his mark, Manny just stuck around causing trouble. Worse yet, he liked the effect associating with the ol' Empian family had on others and just kept doing it. Now he was running the town by throwing the Empian name about to threaten people. He was good at his job, just needed to be taught some sense. Cleese was to bring him in alive.

Kieran hailed Cleese from the back of a horse. Kieran loved horses and was rarely not riding one. It was almost like he was part horse himself. Kieran had trained Cleese early on, as he did most of the ol' Empian enforcers, to fight and shoot. Kieran was ancient and couldn't be active in the family, but was happy to run his ranch and train new recruits there as needed.

"What? My training not good enough to keep you safe that you had to get armor," Kieran teased as Cleese sat down with him on his porch. Cleese showed off his new body suit and the special shotgun rounds he loaded with the acid from the Neenan job as they visited. As it usually did, the conversation eventually turned to the sad fate of Kieran's cousin Peter Meehan.

Peter had once worked closely with Big Zed and Kieran's father, Sal. Peter had a gift for figuring out the good odds in any situation, which made him an important bookie for Sal's organization. That is, until Big Zed made a play for Sal's position at the head of the family and Peter saw the good odds on Big Zed winning the struggle and betrayed Sal. Big Zed had been pretty happy to have won over one of Sal's major players. Which is why he got vicious when Peter betrayed him as well.

Peter had seen signs that the community was in danger and that others beside the family would need to be armed and prepared. Big Zed forbade any arming of civilians for fear it would backfire on them and encourage the little man to attack Big Zed. If outside forces threatened the community, the family would need to beef up protection and hope for the best. Peter couldn't take that chance and enforced his own plan. Stealing firearms from the warehouse, he gave them to the local men and taught them how to clean and operate them.

When Big Zed discovered the betrayal, he exacted revenge. After a slew of set-ups and attacks, he finally took Peter out. Nobody was exactly sure how it happened, but Peter was first diagnosed with bird flu of all things. Then his liver started deteriorating. The doctors were able to slow it down, but Peter would be needing a new liver.

After commiserating over Peter a while, Cleese asked Kieran about Manny Boris. "He's feisty," Kieran warned. "He's been terrorizing one of the local towns under the family name, but he's not hiding behind it. The man has a formidable rage that shouldn't be trifled with. He'll tear through you if you take him head on."

"Then what do you suggest," Cleese asked. "I have to take him in myself or else Eugene won't count the favor."

"I'll have to do some thinking," Kieran responded. "Phil and the other ranch hands are having a bonfire and were hoping to see you before you left. Go have a drink with them and we'll talk in the morning."

Cleese bid Kieran goodnight and wandered down to the fire. He was greeted by Phil, a seasoned ranch hand that was as inseparable from a horse as Kieran was. Phil was just tapping the keg as the other ranch hands were showing up, some coming straight from the fields on their horses. These guys were known to get a bit rowdy.

As the party got louder, Kieran came down from the main house scowling. Cleese met him halfway, ready to apologize. "You best tell those boys to calm it down a bit," Kieran admonished. "I've got more than just them on this ranch and won't stand for their shenanigans this late."

"Sorry, Kieran," Cleese apologized. "They're just trying to show me a good time."

"No, they're just using you as an excuse," Kieran sighed. "They get too much of that liquor in them, and they're as wild as stallions. When they get this loud a fight is usually quick to follow."

As if on cue, angry shouting was heard clearly over the rest of the party. As Kieran and Cleese approached, the shouting picked up and two men could be seen shoving each other. One of them was quick to pull his sidearm and took a drunken shot that missed the equally drunk opponent. His opponent, who happened to be unarmed reached for the only weapon he could find: Cleese's shotgun. Cleese started sprinting and shouting at the man to put it down, but it was no use. The man took a little too long adjusting the gun, so the crowd around him dove out of range as he pulled the trigger. That left a clear shot at Kieran.

Cleese turned in horror as he heard a thump from behind. Kieran was down with his foot bloody and smoking. Cleese rushed over and gingerly pulled Kieran's boot off to see a smoking hole through his foot. There was only the one puncture, but blood was gushing and the veins were turning green up the leg. The man who grabbed the shotgun stumbled over and proclaimed, "just a foot wound. He'll be fine with a bandage and a drink." Without looking< Cleese planted his fist firmly in the man's crotch. As the man doubled over, Cleese grabbed his collar and slammed him face-first into the ground.

Cleese ripped the man's shirt off and wrapped it around the foot. He cradled his uncle in his arms and made his way to the main house.
Kieran gurgled out. "it's that acid shot, isn't it?"
Cleese just curtly nodded.
"I'm done aren't I?"
Again, Cleese just nodded.
"Then I've got a few things to take care of real quick. First, your problem. Manny's tough but he's a southern boy; never seen snow in his life. Drive him up the mountain and he won't know how to handle the ice. Secondly, if you can spare the liver, make sure it goes to Meehan; he'll make better use of it than I'll be able to. And most importantly, I love my family, make sure they hear it one last time."
Cleese nodded one last time.

Kieran was gone before they reached the house. Cleese fell to his knees and just held his uncle in his arms; a stone soldier trying his hardest not to cry. He failed at it.



This entry is dedicated to the memory of Harry Stone: beloved everything. Please visit www.helpharrystone.com

Explanations and a Baring of Soul

I'm not sure how many people are still looking at this (or even care), but my few loyal readers have undoubtedly noticed my lack of posts since the spring. I've had almost no new posts since April, and the few I have had have been either uninspired or postings of previously written pieces. There's a reason for this.

Anyone who knows me personally knows that I had a tragedy happen in my family this past Mother's Day. My uncle was suddenly and senselessly killed on a street corner in a suburb of my home town of Kansas City. You may have heard about it. Even with the limited grainy video from the local gas station security cameras there was hardly any evidence to work from. As of this writing there are no suspects and no significant progress has been made since that first month. (Anyone interested in learning more is welcome to visit http://www.helpharrystone.com/)

While that alone warrants an amount of time for mourning, my reasons for not writing for so long are a bit more complex. You see, one week before the tragedy, I had started working on the latest entry to the Harry Cleese series, which is my adaptation of the twelve labors of Heracles to a mafia crime drama (If you haven't checked it out yet, please do). That particular entry was to be an adaptation of the capturing of the Erymanthian Boar; a story better known for it's sub-plot then the primary events. In the original story Heracles seeks counsel from his mentor Chiron who is senselessly killed due to an unforeseen series of events. Due to the family tree of the Greek Pantheon and the fact that this is a mafia family story, I wrote Chiron as Harry's uncle.

I know it was impossible to know this would have such aching parallels, but I still feel a great deal of guilt for the story. As a result, I haven't been able post the entry, out of respect for my uncle's family's feelings as well as my own. Furthermore, I don't think I've been able to produce ANY decent pieces since stopping the Harry Cleese series. I need to change that.

I once had an amazing writing teacher who taught me that writing makes great therapy, but therapy doesn't always make great writing. I realize that's a little of what I'm doing right now, but I think this is necessary if I'm ever going to create any more decent pieces. I think it honors my uncle more to continue my work in spite of his passing rather than stopping it in mourning. Expect the next Harry Cleese soon.