[OOM: In dreams.]
Dec. 3rd, 2006 11:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mnt_raphINT. TENT THAT DREAMS OF BEING A STUDIO APARTMENT
The scene opens on the interior of Raph's tent as it exists at present, the scene is a desolate one. The camera pans through the space, starting with the front door flap and moving counter-clockwise through the space. As it travels through the living room/sitting area there is a brief pause to take in the one shred of magic still left on the roof: the Raph-shaped clean spot that claims the left-most cushion of the couch. The tour continues over the breakfast bar and through the galley kitchen, before coming to a halt on the remnants of what was once a bed.
Suddenly the alarm clock on the bedside table sputters to life, and the moonlight which bathes the room is augmented by the blue blinking display. The camera pivots to take in the face of the clock which blinks the time: 1:22 am. When it pans back to the bed proper, the bed is not only whole but currently occupied as well. A shirtless Human RAPHAEL lays on his back, his eyes closed.
The scene opens on the interior of Raph's tent as it exists at present, the scene is a desolate one. The camera pans through the space, starting with the front door flap and moving counter-clockwise through the space. As it travels through the living room/sitting area there is a brief pause to take in the one shred of magic still left on the roof: the Raph-shaped clean spot that claims the left-most cushion of the couch. The tour continues over the breakfast bar and through the galley kitchen, before coming to a halt on the remnants of what was once a bed.
Suddenly the alarm clock on the bedside table sputters to life, and the moonlight which bathes the room is augmented by the blue blinking display. The camera pivots to take in the face of the clock which blinks the time: 1:22 am. When it pans back to the bed proper, the bed is not only whole but currently occupied as well. A shirtless Human RAPHAEL lays on his back, his eyes closed.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-12-04 05:56 am (UTC)I can't get to sleep, I think about the implications of diving in too deep, and possibly the complications.
He turns to look at his alarm clock, sighing.
Especially at night, I worry over situations. I know I'll be alright, perhaps it's just imagination
He's clearly not going to be getting anymore sleep this evening, so throws off the covers, sits up, and hangs his legs off the edge of the bed.
Day after day it reappears. Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear. Ghosts appear and fade away.
Disgusted, he stands and exits the room, disappearing down the hall and into bathroom, closing the door behind him.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-04 06:45 am (UTC)Alone between the sheets only brings exasperation. It's time to walk the streets, smell the desperation
He swings open the flat
EXT. NEW YORK CITY ROOFTOP, NIGHT TIME
The scene opens with RAPHAEL emerging from the tent, with the camera quickly panning to show the brilliant New York City skyline. When it returns to RAPHAEL, the tent is gone, having been replaced by a roof mounted water tower. RAPHAEL looks out upon his beloved city, and basks in its glory.
At least there's pretty lights, though there's little variation. It nullifies the night from overkill.
RAPHAEL dons his fedora and trench coat.
Day after day it reappears. Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear. Ghosts appear and fade away. Come back another day
Apparently displeased by his current vantage point, RAPHAEL begins the process of scaling the water tower.
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Date: 2006-12-04 06:55 am (UTC)RAPHAEL reaches the top of the tower not as Human RAPHAEL, but as Turtle RAPHAEL. His arms reach towards the sky, as he sings to the city at large.
I can't get to sleep
I think about the implications,
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications,
Especially at night,
I worry over situations.
I know I'll be alright
It's just overkill.
Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away.
Ghosts appear and fade away.
Ghosts appear and fade away.
RAPHAEL falls to his knees, defeated.
End scene.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-04 10:22 am (UTC)The repetitious cry sounds out above the prevailing background noise—a calm multitudinous babble. It comes from a stout black man with a large red cooler strapped to his chest. He's standing off to the left, at the end of an aisle of seats. The aisle is one of hundreds that have been tiered together to form a huge open air stadium. Each one is lined with spectators of all genders and ages, the majority garbed in variations of white with black pinstripes. There's not an empty seat in the venue.
Overhead, a few wispy clouds edge their way across an azure sky, and the sun shines down with perfect warmth.
Below is an expanse of green, scarred at the nearside by the white and brown of a baseball diamond. More people in white with black pinstripes are arranged around it, tossing a ball to each other in an orderly but relaxed fashion. From the mound, the pitcher is hurling another ball across an unprotected home plate. The thud of that ball hitting the catcher's mitt can be heard in the highest terraces.
Ahead, an immense video scoreboard is showing a vapid commercial for a local Harley Davidson dealership. Beside that is the incoming team's batting lineup, and along the bottom is the zero-riddled box score of the seven innings that have already passed. A closer inspection of these JumboTron graphics reveals that the New York Yankees are playing host to the Boston Red Sox. Which possibly explains the sell-out crowd packed into The House That Ruth Built on this balmy summer afternoon.
Indy nudges Raph's arm. "Last call. You need another?"
no subject
Date: 2006-12-04 12:16 pm (UTC)It's an idyllic scene. But there's something not quite right about it.
There's nary a breath of wind. Sunbeams dapple the shady turf through a canopy of oak and beech leaves, but they don't move as time passes. In fact, other than the glinting flow of the river and the wildlife, nothing seems to move. And then there's the colors, they look too flat and pastoral, almost as if they've been painted onto a canvas backdrop. How odd. Even the flight paths of the damselflies seem oddly cyclical, like they are on some kind of animation loop. And now that you mention it, they look kind of cartoony. As did the kingfisher...
"Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay,
My, oh my, what a wonderful day."
It's spoken in a relaxed voice, not sung, which is something to be thankful for, since the voice belongs to Goldilocks. And she can't sing very well, even in dreams.
She looks real enough, barefoot and dressed in cut-off denim dungarees. There's no branch of physics that can explain why her breasts aren't spilling out of the top half of the garment, but somehow, they aren't. Completing the rustic ensemble is the tatty straw hat that is partially shading her face, and the seeded stalk of grass poking out of her mouth. She's reclining on a log, one leg crossed over the other at the knee, with a length of fishing line attached to the big toe of her airborne foot. There's a cheap-looking buoy float at the other end of the line, not really bobbing in the water as it should be.
"This is the life, eh, Brer Turtle?"
no subject
Date: 2006-12-04 04:40 pm (UTC)Golden light reflects gemlike off the Empire State building, highest of the forest of spires to the north, and gilds the waters of the two rivers to the east and west, and is thrown back like fire from the torch in the Lady's hand far below.
"This place has such a great view," says Andrew, a little wistfully.
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Date: 2006-12-04 05:29 pm (UTC)It's hot. Tropical. Like a sauna, except saunas don't have breezes that carry the scent of hibiscus and roasting meat to your nose like a taunt. There's a party, but you're not invited.
But it's a luau. Everyone's invited.
Lahaina Beach sparkles in the sun. The Lahaina Broiler's nonexistent walls and nonexistent clocks tell its patrons that it's half past Happy Hour so drink up, the view's fine.
Tequila sloshes into two glasses, and Bernard lifts his, his black-on-black Hawaiian print buttondown catching the dim bar light. When he speaks, he slurs just a bit.
"You're a fuckin' asshole, did you know?"
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Date: 2006-12-04 06:01 pm (UTC)"Mhmm, you awake sweetie?"
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Date: 2006-12-04 06:48 pm (UTC)Raph has been keeping a close eye on the two "tough-guys" in the Yankees Suck t-shirts ever since Security made them turn them inside-out at the top of the fifth. Where they were just annoying to look at before, now they're annoying to be around at all. Someone is going to have to put them back into their place...
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Date: 2006-12-04 07:08 pm (UTC)Replies a Raph who is clearly not considering other entries into this particular competition.
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Date: 2006-12-04 07:16 pm (UTC)Andrew's frowning in mild concentration, reaching out a hand toward the pair of pre-WWII biplanes dipping and zooming around the towers like mosquitoes.
The planes haven't gotten any smaller, nor his hand any larger, but he manages to grab one (it buzzes angrily in his hand) and set it down carefully on the other side of the river.
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Date: 2006-12-04 07:40 pm (UTC)"Really. Next you're gonna try an' tell me the sky's freakin' blue. You gonna drink, or you gonna squawk some more? I won fair an' square, an' you know it."
Raph picks up the glass, and gestures with it for emphasis.
"This whole poor loser thing o' yours ain't ladylike....did you know?"
His impressions aren't anywhere near as impressive as his brother's.
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Date: 2006-12-04 07:43 pm (UTC)He'd been cheating, too. But he's not a ninja.
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Date: 2006-12-04 07:46 pm (UTC)Then he grumbles something about Bernard's inability to find his own ass with both hands, before downing the Takillya.
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Date: 2006-12-04 07:48 pm (UTC)It has a wick.
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Date: 2006-12-04 07:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-04 07:52 pm (UTC)"Why you gotta do that? Just swat the frickin' things! Ain't worth savin' if they can't learn to back the fuck down."
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Date: 2006-12-04 07:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-04 07:56 pm (UTC)The turtle in the overalls with the red bandana tied 'round his neck doesn't seem to be enjoying the fishing nearly as much. He's trying to bait his hook, but the wriggling thing in his left hand is not so inclined to meet the pointy thing in his right.
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Date: 2006-12-04 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-04 08:02 pm (UTC)"Whaddaya mean, you don't fuck?! Everybody fucks! Fucking is why we're on this earth!"
Bernard looks at Raph like he's the goddamn moon man and smokes his big cylindrical boomstick, until he notices that he's not getting any nicotine out of it. Then he looks at it, takes an actual cigarette out of a pack of Camels, lights that off the wick, then sticks the burning wick in his mouth and pulls it out of the dynamite with his teeth.
"Doethn't fuck. Jethuth," he mutters around a burnt tongue.
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Date: 2006-12-04 08:05 pm (UTC)He makes a grab at the second one, but it evades him, swooping higher overhead.
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Date: 2006-12-04 08:16 pm (UTC)Raph's further thoughts on the matter are drowned in alcohol.
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Date: 2006-12-04 08:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-04 08:29 pm (UTC)This strikes Raph as particularly funny, so he has to call as much attention to it as possible.
"YO! Bartender! Can we get the award winnin' monkey over here a medal?"