The Freedom Tool

I first saw it about two weeks ago. Small and haggard, and obviously homeless, it stood in the field off the road. Wondering how this little white puppy survived the freezing night temperatures, I caught sight of the thing that I hate most about people doing to homeless dogs—a cord tied around its small neck. Pity and anger both surged up my blood–pity for the lonely, vulnerable puppy, hardly a few weeks old, and anger over the insensitivity of people—most likely the brats who roam about the town and “play” with stray puppies in this manner.

Feeling at once that I couldn’t just pass by, I walked back to go along the road to the nearest shops. I knew I had to buy something to feed the pup, but also get that special “tool of freedom” with which I had made it happen before. Yes! When it comes to cutting the cord of slavery, nothing works like a cute pair of scissors. This time I got one for just 15 rupees from a shop. When I returned to the filed with the scissors, a bun, and a small pack of biscuits, I saw what I feared (as from prior experiences): the pup had left. I looked for it about the place, but there was no sign of it there. Wishing it safe, I got home with the stuff—unsuccessful.

Over the following days, winter grew pretty harsh with overcast and intermittent rain, and icy winds—the townsfolk confined to their houses, and still inside to their rooms. Quite a few times, sitting by the heater in my room on nippy evenings, the thought crossed my mind that the small pup would not make it through that kind of weather. Those were the moments bringing back my wishful mood: if I only had my own house to take these little homeless pups in; to save them from life-threatening weather and at least equally dangerous people.

Then one morning, as I was returning from the market via the same route, I spotted the dirty white pup standing near a tree off the road, the awful cord still tied around its neck. Happy to see it alive, I still felt ill at ease at the sight of its “slavery necklace”. Though I had remembered to carry my freedom tool in my pocket on my previous visit to the market, this time I had left it home. And since I couldn’t afford just walking away, I rushed to the shops to get the helpful stuff.

With a new pair of scissors and some eatables, I returned to my subject. It was there, right under the tree. Leaning to it, I fed it some bread—which it welcomed hungrily—and took out the freedom tool from the shopping bag. Carefully, I cut the cord off the pup’s neck. Viola! Our friend was free! Feeding it the rest of the bread, I walked back home happily, thinking that… Read More...

The Large Basement

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going down into that basement.”

“That was the last thing he said to you?”

“Yeah.”
 
Mike Sayers sat looking across his desk at his friend Barry Ortiz.

“How long since you last saw Sam?”

“Three days ago.”

The last time Barry had seen him Sam had been talking about how spooked he was regarding the labyrinthine space under his new home or ‘The House’ as it was referred to in Albuquerque lore.  Mike being a skeptic when it came to all things spooky thought Sam had most likely taken a road trip.
 
“He’s probably in Vegas, Barry.”
 
“Maybe, but I don’t want Sam to be another story to go with that old place.”
 
Mike hadn’t spent a lot of time with Sam Eaves, but he’d quickly picked up on how high strung the man was, he spooked easy. He leaned his large frame back into his chair. Mike was a big guy, six one, two hundred pounds, blonde and blue. Barry was the opposite, average height and build, with sharp brown eyes and dark hair.
 
“Sam was pretty twitchy. I’m sure he’s fine, he probably just needed to get out of the house for a while.”
 
“Have you ever been to the basement in that place Mike? Even in the daytime the creep factor is pretty high.”
 
Barry was the real estate agent who’d sold the property to Sam. It was a house with an unfortunate past so Sam had gotten a very good deal.
 
“I guess the size of the basement must be something else? I can understand, with the size of the house.  It could easily be sitting on top of five thousand feet of space.”
 
“Sixty eight hundred square feet.”
 
“Yeah, well you should just be glad you found someone to buy it. I’m familiar with its history, and I can imagine how much trouble it was to unload. I’m not superstitious, but a lot of people are. You must have given Sam a hell of a bargain.”
 
“He thought it was a sweet deal. At first. Then he started complaining about the basement. Just going into his kitchen where the entrance was made him nervous.  It got so bad he had a locksmith come over and put a heavy-duty lock on the door. I went over there last week, and Sam had me go down there with him. We only made it to the bottom of the stairs.”
 
“You haven’t been down there before?”
 
It was a logical question. Barry came from a long line of realtors. His grandfather had sold the mansion back in the thirties,… Read More...

The Water Horse: Legend of the Deep (2007)

Some films are simply memorable, for they capture the essence of love in its purest form. And this is so true of The Water Horse.

Set in Scotland during the Second Waorld War, it shows the story of a little boy Angus (Alex Etel) finding the egg of a creature that will grow into a “Sea Monster” for those with a weak heart and dormant soul; but for Angus, this new life he nurtures in his home, secretly, is the best friend ever. It is not long before Crusoe, as Angus has named it, only by its look, scares those who catch a glimpse of it, and little Angus with his small team of confidants will do anything to save his friend from any harm.
The love and that kindred human spirit we take pride in are masterfully instantiated in the bond between Angus and Crusoe. The sounds and scenery are strikingly beautiful, and the special effects notably realistic. The film strings an interesting connection to the once-popular Loch Ness Monster, showing how craving a little publicity leads away from a reality and draws one into fakery. You don’t miss seeing human ignorance and narrow-mindedness against the pure heart of a child and the universality of love returned by something that has been labeled as “terrible” without reason.

Unlike those many sci-fi films where gigantic species are life-threats, The Water Horse shows the other side of this fantasy: there is no such thing as a monster if you have love and believe in it; just open your heart unto life! No better can fantasy and film get where this heart-warming film takes us – the ride of a lifetime! 

Language of Life

Talking animals sounded the death knell for the meat industry. Except for poultry. The things that fly, cluck or swim didn’t change, only the critters that walked. Unless you included dolphins and whales, but they didn’t really count because most people had suspected they were just playing dumb anyway.
    I had my first experience with a talking non-homo sapiens on a Wednesday. I was going back to work after a pleasant lunch. I’d just stepped off the porch when I heard someone call my name.
    “Hold on Jim, we need to talk.”
    I turned around to see who’d spoken, but all I could see was my dog, Ludicrous. He was sitting on the porch near the front door, his tail wagging, and a big smile on his face. Which was weird because Ludicrous never smiled; he just pulled his lips off his teeth in a dog grin. I walked up the steps and squatted down to stroke his ears.
    “Where is he boy?” I said while looking around.
    “Right here.” Ludicrous said.
    It was a good thing I’d been so close to the ground. I fell sideways and rolled onto my back. I could see Ludicrous through my semi-conscious haze. He had lost his grin and looked very concerned.
    “Sorry about that Jim,” Ludicrous said, “but you’ll get used to it.”
    I was looking up at my dog, with my mind whirling around like laundry in a washing machine. I knew I must have eaten some bad mayonnaise. Then someone else spoke, and brought me back to the present.
    “Freakin’ weird isn’t it?”
    I recognized the voice of my neighbor Sam Reynolds. From my prone position I turned my head to look at him. He was standing on the sidewalk in front of my house holding a bottle of liquor in his left hand. His right hand held a large caliber pistol. He was leaning to the side with the bottle and was unsteady on his feet. I said the first words that came into my mind.
    “Don’t shoot my dog, Sam.”
    Then I let my head fall to the other side towards Ludicrous. I was wondering what he’d turn into now, but he was still a dog.
    “Yeah, don’t shoot me Sam.”
    “Shut the fuck up!” Sam yelped and pointed his gun at Ludicrous while taking a swig off the bottle.
    “Take it easy dude, it’s just my dog.” I croaked.
    “Tell him to shut up!”
    Ludicrous didn’t say anything more. He sat down and put his head on my stomach, wagging his tail. This seemed to pacify Sam.
    “Well all right then.” Sam said, and took another swig off his bottle. “I’m… Read More...

Pulp Fiction (1994)

Back in 1994, Pulp Fiction was a famous release for several merits, but nothing matched the twist moves of John Travelota and Umma Thurman on the dance stage. Oh yes, one thing did match, even surpassed, it—they were not on a date.

In the film with an ensemble cast, Travlota and Samuel L. Jackson take the roles of mercenaries Jules and Vincent, working for Marsellus Wallace, a rich mobster. One of their assignments is Butch (Bruce Willis), a boxer who has double-crossed Wallace; and it is, as if by chance, Travolta’s burden to get him after the (as it sounds) more unusual assignment of taking the boss’s wife (Thurman) out for dinner. More stories are strewn in the main sequence with really enjoyable twists and surprises.
 
The film came out unique in some notable aspects. Primarily, it was the stylistic depiction of gangster crime so as to make crime appear more absurd than condemnable or outrageous—matter-of-course stuff. The high chance element involved in crime is complemented in the film by the non-chronological sequence of events and weird character interaction, leading sometimes to embarrassing situations for the otherwise ghastly figures of the crime world.

Pulp Fiction remains watch-worthy, though not recommended for teens, since the raging guns are shown in too stylish a way with dangerous appeal for those having hands.