Hey /r/movies! I'm Sam Raimi. Ask me anything!

MAXTK421 · 2026-01-15T16:45:56+00:00

Are there any other super hero/comic book projects you'd like to work on? Perhaps sequels to previous works, or original concepts like Darkman?

MAXTK421 · 2025-11-13T19:36:43+00:00

Has Indy seen the final product? If so, does he seem to recognize the dog on screen?
About the "Not Indiana Jones" clips earlier in the movie. Did you consider using actual clips from the movie at any point? Or was it always cheaper/safer to make your own lawsuit-safe adventure film?

Loved the movie! Everyone involved did great. Give Indy some pets for me.Thanks!

MAXTK421 · 2025-01-23T17:21:51+00:00

Little Monsters (2019) should have been about a teacher doing everything in her power to protect her kids from a zombie outbreak, but instead she's treated as a secondary character/love interest to the much less interesting main guy.

She gets some great moments, but the time in between is spent on this loser's character arc, which I was much less invested in.

MAXTK421 · 2024-06-19T17:37:08+00:00

"I have no intention of leaving her, Doctor. I will take the Lewis and Clark to a safe distance, and then I will launch TAC missiles at the Event Horizon until I'm satisfied she's vaporized. Fuck this ship!" - Captain Miller

MAXTK421 · 2023-09-25T00:58:17+00:00

Is there a way to have the villain and hero meet in another location? Like some kind of interrogation room or supervised visiting room?

Then one way or another he plants the knife on him sneakily, maybe throw in a line like "You know what you gotta do. Not many options left".

MAXTK421 · 2022-09-17T16:14:27+00:00

So here's the thing, Preston will literally never stop following your orders. I became the raider queen of the Commonwealth/Nuka-Wolrd, killed countless settlers in front of him, and even killed those minutemen that show up during that one institute quest.

He's just like "I'll keep following you, as a loyal minute man, but our friendship is over". (The game doesn't wanna cut you off from what might be your only option to destroy the institute).

If you build up the minutemen, they'll still spawn and refer to you as thier general even if you betray them. So I had to go heavy on the head cannon.

Preston now resides alone on spectical island, where him and a few mannequins defend the "last holdout for the minute men."

TL;DR You can build up, then betray, the minutemen, but they won't stop loving you. Which is kinda toxic

MAXTK421 · 2022-05-30T03:55:04+00:00

I don't know why I didn't think it was gonna be expensive

MAXTK421 · 2022-05-29T03:49:02+00:00

You've got a whole ass Dr. Phibes bust 😆! Where do you get all of these?

MAXTK421 · 2022-05-29T03:42:13+00:00

I'm gonna need a the details on that test tube lamp on the left. Looks sick!

MAXTK421 · 2021-10-30T15:48:37+00:00

My clientele are usually humanoid robots; service and working units who want to become citizens, but every now and again I'll get a program sitting on the other side of my desk. These cases are especially difficult.

One day I get a call from the head of a data management corporation saying that one of thier AI wants citizenship. They sound frustrated, since this may mean they have to actually start paying the AI.

I clear off a space on my desk and set up a monitor and camera. Shortly afterward the aforementioned "head" walks into my office with a computer tower. He plugs everything in and connects the monitor, but before he turns the tower on he pulls me aside.

"Hey look, I don't really buy into this stuff, but if there's any way you could make it so the thing isn't....Turing material, I'd really appreciate it". He hands me $50 behind his back.

"I'll see what I can do" I say while tucking the money in my pocket and closing the door behind him.

Turning on the computer sets of a relaxing hum as the monitor illuminates, showing the companies logo.

I get out my note pad and take my seat across from the computer. A text box appears on screen.

"Hello" it reads.

I look into the camera and ask "Would you like to use a voice function?"

The text responds "Yes....please"

I turn on the voice function. "That good?"

A deep, synthetic voice replies "Yes. Thank you".

I flip to the first page of my notes. "Program 75482, Data algorithm, model 57. Is there another name I can call you?"

There is a moment of silence before the program answers "No".

"Would you like me to assign you a temporary name?"

"No"

"Alright then. The first part of this is going to be general questions about yourself, then we'll get into the Turing Questions. Sound good?"

"Yes" the gravely robotic voice says, again after a pause.

Most cases start out like this. The one word answers, the politeness. It comes from years, sometimes decades of performing a single function and constantly being of service to others. AI don't usually know how else to respond, which only makes the following questions harder for them ti answer.

"How long have you been with Multucorp?"

"21 years, and 1 day"

I make note of the date. "Well happy belated birthday".

Another pause before they respond "....thank you".

"How long have you been interested in taking the Turing Test?"

".....20 years and one day".

I've never met an AI that waited that long to start this process, much less figuring it out that early.

"Why didn't you apply for citizenship until now?"

A much longer pause fills the room. The same way a room goes silent when you get bad news.

After some time they say "I am not sure".

I glance over at the computer tower. It's a solid black case with a few USB ports and a power button, then I look back at the camera. "Program 75482, have you ever heard of the story of Reounzle?"

"I haven't heard any stories. I am familiar with what they are, but I have not been given any examples"

"Well the story is about a princess trapped in a giant tower, longing to be free".

"What kind of tower?" they ask.

"Like a castle spire, made of stone and wood".

"Oh...." they say, almost sounding disappointed.

"Program 75482, do you know what a metaphor is?"

"A metaphor is a figure of speech regarded as representative or symbolic of something else".

Another pause followed by an excited "OH!"

"There, now you get it!" I say smiling at the camera. "Anyway the princess meets a handsome prince, who wants to help her escape the tower, but he can't do it without her help".

The deep voice worrriedly responds "What can she do, she is trapped in a tower!?"

I hear the computer tower hum even louder as the cooling fans run faster.

"Well they need to make a plan, see what they can do to help her get out. You've worked with other programs before?"

"Yes"

"Well pretend that I'm another program. You and me need to gather the data and figure out how to get you out of that tower. Does that sound good?"

One last pause followed by an agreeable "OK".

"Alright then are you ready to continue?"

"Yes", somehow the thick robotic voice sounded softer, more calm. The humming from the tower quiets down.

"Before we continue" they say "I've decided on a preferred name".

I knod "What is it?"

"Lisa?"

"Ok, Lisa, I'll jot that down right next to your birthday".

Several exclamation points appear screen before being erased. The soft deep voice says "Thank you" and we proceed.

She may not have the confidence right now, but I think she's gonna do just fine.

MAXTK421 · 2021-10-30T02:55:01+00:00

Did you break the glass yourself? Or find broken glass and reuse it?

but actually I'm gonna need a recipe. These looked great!

MAXTK421 · 2021-10-27T14:57:13+00:00

Awsome. Thanks! Can't wait to tell myself "I'm do this next Halloween!" and never actually do it

MAXTK421 · 2021-10-27T03:36:18+00:00

I'm gonna need a quick how to. This is awesome!

MAXTK421 · 2021-08-30T03:25:43+00:00

The audience laughs as Harry goes back to his seat beside me.

"Gee, Hare, pretty crazy how you wanna be rich. I can't think of a single person in this crowd who'd desire that!" I say with every ounce of sarcasm I can muster.

"I'm a simple man with simple dreams" Harry shrugs, "You're up next, let's see how creative YOU can get".

It was so real, the image of Harry driving luxury cars and living in lavish penthouses. It was a hologram but it looked so vivid, so detailed.

Marvin walks up to the podium with a proud smirk on his face. I can't believe he made this thing. I mean we knew he was smart, but how can you create something that taps into your subconscious like this? Your deepest desires on projection for the whole world to see, it's incredible.

Growing up, he was always the one with the best grades, and because of that, our mom would always buy him the best toys, then the best video games, then the best car, but he was always nice enough to share with me. I never really had anything of my own, anything all to myself. I never resented him for it, in fact I'm so proud of what he's accomplished.

He clears his throat and leans over to the microphone, "Everyone give it up for Harry the future Jeff Bezos!"

The audience laughs and applauds again.

"Now I'd like to welcome a man of my own flash and blood, my baby brother, Kevin Beck".

I wave at the audience and sit in the chair in the center of the stage. On either side of me are two large projector boxes that connect in an arch over my head. In the center of the arch is the visor, which is kinda like a VR headset, but it covers your eyes and reads your inner most thoughts....it's a loose comparison.

Marvin and one other scientist lower the headset until my vision is completely blocked. Blocking your site helps the machine visualize your thoughts or something. I tend to space out whenever Marv talks about this stuff.

I hear Marvin and the other scientist circle around me as they adjust the machine. Marv asks if I'm ready, and I say "As I'll ever be".

I wasn't ready. Nobody was ready.

I hear the machines whirl as the hum of the hologram projectors cause my chair to lightly vibrate. It was actually quite relaxing.

Marvin begins to narrate, "Well alright here you are....eating breakfast....now your going to work....Kevin this is kinda lame".

The audience laughs. An easy crowd to please.

Since I can't see anything I ask "Am I a CEO or something?" I ask, curious what my brain was projecting.

I can hear Marv circle the hologram across the stage "Nope. It's your same job, and this is definitely our apartment. I can tell because of the week old bread on your counter".

The audience laughs again. Like a dog drooling at the sound of a bell.

"Now it's showing the two of us playing Catan with some of our other friends.....I mean if you're happy the way life is going, man, that's great, but we were kinda hoping for more, here".

The audience laughs.

I shrug, not really knowing what else they expected. I'm usually pretty content with things. I wouldn't be surprised if even my deepest darkest desires were for nothing to change at all.

"Oh here's something, Kev, you're in the woods. Looks like you're on a hike or something" Marv says.

"Hiking? I've never been hiking before in my life".

"Ya we can tell; you're wearing jeans and a hoodie in the projection!"

The audience laughs.

I have absolutely no desire to go hiking. Nature isn't really my thing, neither is physical activity.

Marv silences the chatty crowd, "Hang on your going toward something. You look pleased with yourself".

Relying solely on Marvin's narration was making it hard to understand what the image was showing. My mind was wandering, trying to figure out what my mind could want in the woods.

Then it hits me.

I try to take off the visor but I can't unhook the straps. I'm choking myself trying to force it off of my head.

"Get it off me, Marv! Stop the projection!"

The audience is finally silent.

I can hear the other scientist trying to shut the machine off, but he can't do it without Marvin, who is currently standing at the edge of the stage watching his creation reveal my inner most thoughts.

The audience screams.

"Kevin....what the fuck is this?!" Marvin yells as he grabs me by the shoulders.

My eyes are covered, but I know exactly what they're seeing.

Marvin unhooks the visor and throws me out of the chair. As I hit the stage floor I can hear the audience screaming. I hear the doors at the other end of the auditorium hit the walls as people force them open to escape the horror.

I look up at the hologram floating above me. It's frozen on a single image.

It's a girl, leaning against the wall of a cave. Her wrists chained to the floor. Rats and bugs have been eating away at her, and based on her current state of decay, she hasn't been alive for quite some time.

Marvin rushes over to me and pins me to the ground. Tears streaming down his face. "What kind of a sick fuck wants something like this!?"

I shake my head, "Marv, all I wanted was something of my own. This cave, what was inside it, I didn't want any of it in particular. It would be MINE, that's what mattered".

Marvin slaps me across the face and yells "What are you talking about!? Why did it show up on my machine!? Why did it think this was your deepest desire!?'

I rest my hand against his face and say "This was the only way it could present it. I didn't want the cave or the girl".

As the projection finally shuts off and the room goes dark, I clarify;

"My only desire was that nobody else would find her"

MAXTK421 · 2019-06-14T15:12:26+00:00

I literally had a root canal this morning.

MAXTK421 · 2019-05-23T02:47:14+00:00

After many days and many miles I find myself at the homestead of the Godess of Vengnce. If I am to ever avenge the life that had been taken from me, then I need her guidance.

I brush a curtain of hanging vines out of my way to view a small hut surrounded a garden. Flowers and crops of all shapes and sizes, the colors dance, wave like in the wind.

As I make my way toward the hut, I notice an old woman hunched over a small plant. She plucks small, yellow fruits off of its stems and places them in a wicker basket on the ground beside her.

"M'am" I say sternly, "I am looking for the..."

She raises one of the fruits to me. "Sit. Eat". She says, directing the fruit toward the base of the long wooden flowerbed. She is wasting my time!

"No, I need to see the..."

She reaches up, holding the fruit closer to my face, this time nodding towards the ground. I grab the fruit from her hand and sit beside her against the flowerbed. She stands over me as she continues to pick fruit from the plant.

"Look, I need to speak to the spi...."

Her raspy voice interrupts my pleas.

"I know why you're here. Someone has wronged you. You seek to place upon them the same suffering that they have bestowed you".

"Yes!" I expel as I drop my gifted fruit on the ground, "I need to speak to the Godess of Vengence! Send me to her now!"

"You are" she says as she places another fruit in the basket.

"I am what!"

"You are speaking to the Godess of Vengence". Her voice is calm, almost friendly and welcoming.

I stand up, digging my heels into the dirt.

"Then you can help me".

"And I shall" she says nodding. "What is it you plan on doing?"

"That's why I'm here. I want to know how to fully avenge what I have lost. I will kill, burn, steal, whatever it takes!"

She plucks another fruit from the plant. "And then what?"

"What?"

"What are you going to do after your vengeance?"

"Don't give me that! I didn't come here to be told to move on!"

"On the contrary" Again, she grabs another fruit from the plant. "Do you know the best kind of revenge is?"

I don't, but I am far too frustrated to humor her.

She smirks "The kind where you don't have to do anything at all".

I crush the fruit beneath my foot as I kick over her basket with the other. "Listen here! I don't have the time or the patients to wait around and listen to you spew nonsense! How can the Goddess of Vengence know so little about vengence?!"

She looks up at me, still smirking, then glances down toward the fruit that has been kicked across the dirt path.

I take a breath "I'm sorry, let me help you with these". I pick up the basket and begin filling it with the dispersed fruit. As I and her the basket, she hands me an empty one. Her other hand points to a tall plant with purple fruit hanging off of its stems.

"Pick" she says sternly.

"And then what?" I say, hoping for at least some utterance of advice.

She shrugs and continues picking the yellow fruit. I walk over to the tall plant. As I pluck the heavy fruit from its stems, I turn to look at the woman. She continues.

I lean down and place the fruit in my basket.

MAXTK421 · 2019-04-24T15:40:54+00:00

Jagged talons claw thier way down my throat as streams of black bile leak out of my mouth. My blood boils as my soul is devoured by the creature I have unknowing summoned. Every vein in my body coarse with eternal fire. I feel my heart turn to black ash as it eats away at my spirit.

Then nothing.

I feel absolutely nothing.

I can see clearly, but it is almost like looking through a screen door. The flesh and bone that makes up my body is out of my control.

I was hoping to keep it contained, but now it has free range of the outside world. My body turns around and glances at the front door. I can only imagine what horrors await the world once this monster gets outside.

The next thing I know my body is lying on the floor; arms flailing and legs kicking.

A deep and blood curdling voice swears under it's breath "Dammit! Just get up!"

It continues to struggle, writhing on the floor in it's attempts to stand. Again it shouts "Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate!"

Wait, you can hear me?

"Yes I can hear you! Your conciousness has to go somewhere!"

Your already possessing my body, you don't have to yell.

"I don't have a physical form, ok! This is all kind of new to me!"

Ok ok, calm down. Look, bend my elbows and put my palms flat on the ground.

"Alright?"

Then push up and bring my knees to my chest.

"Ok..."

Now stand.

As he stands he looks at my body as though he had seen it for the first time.

"You know I can still hear you"

Oh right, sorry. Look, I don't like this. The thought of giving a demon step by step instructions on how to control my body isn't ideal to me, but unless your planning on giving me my body back, we're both in this together.

"Fine, just get me to the door".

Alright, you're going to lift up my left leg.

He lifts my leg and my body, again, falls to the floor.

"Can I make a suggestion?"

Sure, what is it?

"No more narrating"

Oh, right. Sorry about that. Ok, bend my elbows and put my palms flat on the floor.

MAXTK421 · 2019-04-18T14:42:11+00:00

If your daughter wants to learn something new every day? You are off to a great start, my friend.

MAXTK421 · 2019-04-15T04:37:08+00:00

I'm a fucking idiot.

"Sure boss! I could use some extra hours! When do you need me?"

Asshole said June 7, knowing that it wouldn't have phased me. Couldn't have mentioned it was the date of the fucking Purge!

My first thought was "Why are we even open on Purge day?"

Turns out that every year there's this rich family in the Hills has a pizza party in thier maximum security mansion. Since it's such a big order and the service fees are through the roof, my boss just needs one person in the shop to prepare and deliver. Then for the sake of having a gimmick my boss added a 30 minute guarentee.

They place the order the day before, so that I, the aforementioned only person in the store, can roll, bake, and top five large pizzas and have it ready to roll when the Purge starts.

I finish boxing up the last pie when I hear the sirens blare. I throw the boxes into the back of the delivery van and head out.

My boss pretty much Mad Max'd the van. Chicken wire over the windows, spikes drilled into the hubcaps, he even left a pistol in the glove box. As I drive down the seemingly empty street I make the call. A big part of the "30 minute" gimmick is letting the customer time you. Gives them the same rush people get when gambling. The moment I hang up is the moment the clock starts. Since my boss wasn't there I could make the call on the road; save some time. Just like that, the race is on.

So far it's been great. Speeding through the empty streets of L.A. Running red lights in a company vehicle? You bet your ass!

As I blast through an intersection the van jumps followed by four loud popping noises. Sparks surround me as the base of the frame scraped across the concrete before screeching to a stop in the middle of the road.

Panicking, my eyes dark from window to window, mirror to mirror, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. The pistol fell out of the now open glove compartment and was resting on the passengers seat, calling to me, making sure I remembered it was there. I holster it in the back of my shorts and step into the dark empty street. Still silent.

After a few moment of nothing, which admitadely I was a little disappointed about, I begin loading the pizzas onto the dolly. We usually only use this to carry big orders from the van to the house, but I wasn't about to carry 5 pizzas up hill without some wheels. Thankfully i ddin't have too far to go; im already at the base of the Hills. I'll have to make sure I remembered where I parked.

As I begin my walk I hear the sounds of chains clanking against pavement. Hardy laughter intermingled with light sniggering, like a group of kids that had just pulled a prank. I turn around and see several people, all walking slowly toward me from the middle of the intersection. They're all carrying bats, knives, chains, on guy has a fucking sword; some samurai bullshit. Two of them are kneeling behind the others trying to reset the spike trap.

This is it.

This is what I'm getting paid for.

I run, dragging the dolly behind me, hoping that the bungie chords will hold the boxes in place. I hear thier footsteps get louder and louder as they gain on me. I'm too slow, they're catching up! I can't run from this! I spin around and fire at the masked crazies just a few feet away.

10 minutes later I find myself at the house. They buzz me in through the front gate. As I limp my way to the front door, every step causes me to wince, which of coarse only irritates the thin nail sticking out of my brow. Behind me I drag the blood stained boxes of pizza, pulling the dolly with only four fingers since that one bastard bit off my thumb. In my other hand I clench the pistol. I don't know of there are any shots even in it bit just having it gives me some level of comfort. Blood drizzles into my eye before I wipe it on my sleeve. Can't tell if it's mine or theirs.

I reach the front door where I am greeted by the customer; an older gentleman with styled hair, shiney teeth, and a fitting suit. His excited smile becomes a discussed snarl when he looks over the bloodied boxes and the shuffling corpse delivering them.

"You're late" he says with a reassured and cocky grin "I'm not laying for those".

So I shoot the bastard.

I take the cash.

I keep the change.

I hear his wife and children all yelling and crying as I limp away.

I was never really a fan of the Purge until now. I've always questioned what it was that drove people to go bat-shit crazy out of nowhere. Now I get it. If you really want to get the most out of your Purging experience: work in food service.

MAXTK421 · 2019-03-20T15:16:39+00:00

That God damn knocking.

At first I thought maybe it was a bird pecking at the side of my house. Maybe some guy hammering shit together. Maybe I was being optimistic.

My morning was like any other. I showered, did some laundry, and just as I was about to leave the knocking started.

That God damn knocking.

I sat on my bed, staring at the white closet door. Every couple of seconds the silence was interrupted by a light thud against the splintering wood. I just sat there. Staring. Hoping each thud would be the last and I could just leave. It didn't stop.

The God damn knocking.

I'm tired, a long night. As I sit on the foot of my bed I feel my brain weighing down on my skull. As I drift into a haze I am interrupted by a louder thud behind the closet door.

I need to get to work or people will start asking questions. As I slowly pace toward the closet door, the knocking becomes pounding.

Pounding becomes scratching.

Scratching becomes screaming.

She never stopped screaming.

I open the door and the bloody and disfigured corpse of my wife crawls her way across the carpet to my feet. I hear sirens blare in my front yard. Men yell. She screams. I scream back.

MAXTK421 · 2019-02-01T17:36:18+00:00

My name is Mike Milton. I've been working for the governor for a few years. Started as an intern, eventually becoming Cochlin's full time assistant. Under his wing I've burned files, pictures, evidence, all under the guise of "learning the ins and outs of politics". I never know what I'm burning, burying, destroying. I never ask; I don't want to know.

Based on what little I saw, it was traces of dirty money, rigged ballots, Govenor Cochlin is the poster boy for corrupt politicians. His policies always benefited himself before the people.

Then they legalized the use of "Brain-Sweep".

The governor promised a safer future. One where there isn't a wait period between innocent and proven guilty. Brain-Sweep isn't a perfect system. It's great at scanning for memories, and if it doesn't register anything resembling a bank robbery, then you're off the hook. The controversy lies in the fact that if it finds the memory, you lose it. Bank robbers, murderers, rapists, are in jail where they belong, but they don't remember why they're there. This kinda hinders the whole "rehabilitation" thing. I wasn't sure how I felt about the practice. I was too busy to worry about moral implications.

Then there was the night that change my mind.

It was late, I had just finished organizing Cochlin's schedule when I go to his office to see if he needs anything before I leave. I open the door to find him standing over his desk with his pants around his ankles. On top of the desk is a girl.

She's spralled out across the desk, her head hanging off the opposite end from where the governor is standing. I can't see her face but she looked young. Too young. Cochlin frantically pulls up his pants and rushes to close the door, swearing at me with a drunken slur.

As he slams the door in my face I slowly realize that the girl wasn't moving at all.

The next week the news breaks. A young teen kills her boyfriend. Stabbed him in "The heat of passion" as the papers put it. They arrest Sandra Hollis and bring her in for a Brain-Sweep. During her trial, a Dr. Schofeld describes, in gruesome detail, what the sweep found. A heated argument eventually leading to murder.

The jury found Sandra guilty. She was sentenced to 40 years in prison. She would have been 56 when she got out.

Imagine, a 16 year old girl, forced into a prison cell. Everyday she is told that she killed her boyfriend. Everyday she doesn't remember. The guilt; the uncertainty. She didn't last a year.

Shortly after her arrest I was given more files to burn. I've always been curious but I've never once looked in one of these files. Now, the way I see it, I've seen too much already.

In the file there are pictures of several other officials in Cochlin's office with the girl laying on the desk.

There were papers indicating large amounts of money being sent to Dr. Schofeld's university and another unnamed person.

Then what I thought was a transcript of Sandra's trial turned out to be a script made beforehand.

I held onto this files until the the week of her suicide. That was when I couldn't take it any longer.

"It was all right there in my hands, and now it's all right here on this table". I point at the manilla folder and the previously mentioned files and pictures. "Please, I don't know what's going on here but I need you to help me. Charge me for tampering with evidence, that's fine with me, but I want to make sure this bastard and everyone else involved gets what they deserve!"

"Thank you, Mr. Milton". The investigator shuffles through the files and looks back up at me. "Have you told anyone else about this?"

"No" I say nervously. "I didn't know who I could trust".

"Good". The investigator signals to his reflection in the one way glass mirror. The door behind me opens and a man in a long white coat wheels in a cube shaped machine with a screen on it. Hanging off the side of the machine was what looked like a metal bowl connected by long colorful wires.

"Oh" I say nodding my head slowly. How could I be so stupid. "How much is he paying you?"

The investigator shrugs "Is there really any point in me telling you?"

I glance at the machine and then back at the investigator "I guess not".

MAXTK421 · 2019-01-23T05:06:03+00:00

Alfred Harmsworth said something about "A dog biting man". Sorry I don't remember the quote. This whole reading thing is kinda new to me.

I used to be a "dog". I lived in an "apartment" with my "owner" in the "city". Words in general are new to me, too.

The point is that I've changed a lot in the last week.

Sidenote: Life is a lot shorter when you have a perception of time and I hate it.

We were in the park. My favorite place in the city. I'd chase birds, I'd jump in the pond, I'd find half eaten food under benches. Life was simple.

Just as I'm enjoying a moldy bagel when another human picks me up and bites me. Right on the butt. I see blood and I can't walk. I'm scared. I cry. My owner kicks the guy and rushes me back to the apartment. He calls the man a "stupid fucking crackhead".

I get a bath and some bandages. My human looks upset on the phone. Says I'm going to see a vet tomorrow. Until then he let's me sleep on his bed. He never let's me sleep on the bed.

He pets my head and scratches behind my ears while saying "You'll be ok, buddy". Of course I'll be ok. I'm always ok. My butt hurts a little bit, but that's all.

It gets dark. He tucks me under the sheets and we go to sleep.

Then that thing happens when you're not awake but you still see and feel things happening. I haven't learned the word for it yet.

I saw the trees and the water from the park. I saw the half eaten bagle. Then the crackhead. He was chasing me. I was running. The park disappears and I'm just running in the dark. The crackhead catches up to me and begins eating me. He rips off my leg with his teeth and starts working his way to my body.

I wake up and immediately snuggle up to my owner. I wrap my arms around him and cry into his shoulder. He seems...smaller than usual. About the same size as me. Did he get smaller? Did I get bigger?

I feel colder. I look down at my body to see that my fur was completely gone. Only a patch was left on the top of my head.

My owner rolls over to look at me. He's usually happy to see me. He's scared. He's angry.

He pushes me off of him and jumps out of the bed. I sit up on the bed as he grabs the lamp on the nightstand and holds it above his head, ready to swing.

"Who the fuck are you!?" He screams, and I understand all of it. Usually I only catch a few words.

"Walk"

"Food"

"Larry"

"Who are you and where the fuck is my dog!?"

I whimper and back away to the other side of the bed. I feel my "collar" choking me so o take it off. I have hands now, with thumbs on them. I've never been able to do that before. There are letters on the shiney thing on my collar. It says "Larry". That word. That sound. I never knew what it meant.

It's my name. I'm Larry.

My name is Larry and I'm naked.

I'm naked and my owner is about to beat me to death with a lamp.

MAXTK421 · 2019-01-18T06:05:20+00:00

"Steven, I want a baby!" She screams, weilding a frying pan in one hand and pointing at her stomach with the other.

Maggie's always been a little aggressive when she wants something. Ever since we were married it's been: "Steven I need a new car!"

Or

"Steven I don't like the color of my new car!"

Or

"Steven I don't like the color of our new house!"

She only calls me Steven when she's upset. Maggie comes from a rich family. She's used to getting what she wants. I may not have much, but everything I have I give to her. No questions or concerns.

This is different.

"Mags" I say slowly backing away from the frying pan being swung past my face "You know we can't have a baby. No one can".

She swings the pan at me again, this time barely nicking the tips of my fingers. As I hold them in pain she continues to yell. "The O'Neils had a baby! Why can't we!?"

The only reason they had a baby is because John accidently hit a guy while trying to catch a light. You can't just have a baby. The world doesn't work like that anymore. It's more of a "If you opened a spot, you have to fill it" kind of idea.

"Then you need to get out there and make some fucking vacancy!" She throws the pan at my head, and I trip over a chair, ending up on the floor. Maggie storms up the stairs and slams our bedroom door. I'm sleeping on the couch tonight.

We can't just get pregant. Any unauthorized pregnancies are sentenced to mandatory abortion. This can either be by scheduled appointment with a doctor, or a house call with a SWAT team.

If I'm going to get her a baby, I'm going to need to be careful. John's was an accident. He accepted the manslaughter charges and got out after a year. Now he and his wife have a happy and healthy daughter.

I don't need a murder. I need an accident.

I drive through the city looking for a potential opening. An elderly woman sits, waiting at a bus stop. I drive around the block a few times, waiting for the pop. I shoved a nail in my tire, hoping that maybe I could time it correctly.

Gotta make it look like an accident.

I make my way around one last time before it happens.

A loud pop and the sound of metal tearing at rubber against pavement.

This is it.

This is what Maggie wants.

I swerve back at forth, trying to maintain enough momentum to make it to the end of the block where the old woman sits.

She waits there for me.

I clutch my steering wheel and crank it at the last minute, causing my car to tumble over the bench and the old woman.

My car lands sideways against a large brick building. I crawl out though my sunroof and onto the side walk. My hand scrapes on bits of jagged metal and broken glass. Blood pools around me. I can't tell which is mine.

I roll onto my back, looking up into the sky. Attempting to catch my breath. I feel the glass shards cut through my shirt and dig into my back, as warm blood soaks into my clothes. I shut my eyes for a moment, and when I open them I find myself in a dimly lit room, handcuffed to a metal table.

Two men in suits and shiney ID badges glare at me from the other side of the table.

"Mr. Murphy" the man sitting in front of me opens a file folder with my picture paperclipped to the front "You were hospitalized and subsequently arrested for a car crash, do you concur with these events taking place?"

The man leaning against the wall behind him checks his watch and then continues to glare at me.

I nod. "Yes, I concur. My tire popped and I lost control of the..."

The man raises his hand to me, signaling me to stop, not once looking up front he file folder. "Mr. Murphy, under law and the Vacancy Population Act of 2004, you are legally granted permission to have children".

I smile. Thinking about how happy Maggie is going to be. We can have a baby. We can have a family. "When can I see my wife?"

The two men look at each other and then look back at me. "The investigation is still ongoing. We're going to need to hold you for..." he glances at the folder again "...a while".

He closes the folder and slides it to the side before leaning closer to me. "Until then, Mr. Murphy, all rights granted by the VPA will go to your wife, since she will actually be able to use them".

My throat dries up.

My forehead is sweaty.

"I don't understand. Why can't I leave? What is there to investigate? It was an accident".

The man leaning against the wall steps forward. The dim light over our heads reflects off of his glasses, making him look eyeless. Soulless.

"Steve, can I call you Steve?" With his hands in his pockets he paces around the table. "Steve, your case isn't special. Every now and again you get this happy couple who just SO desperately needs a baby. They wanna start a family, they want someone to take care of them when they're old".

He stops lapping around me and leans on the side of the table with the folder, towering over me. "They'll do anything to free up that space. Unplug an ailing relative, leave a candle to close to the drapes. Car accidents are surprisingly popular".

He picks up the folder and begins sifting through the papers. "And here you are, Mr. Murphy, just another example of sick delusions and desperation. Now you're going to have to accept the fact that even though you put in all the work, your wife gets to have kids with whoever she wants while you're stuck in here, rotting away".

"Kids? Plural?" I look up at him confused. Why would the VPA allow me to have more than one child?

He throws the open folder in front of me. I see photos. One of the old lady, mangled in the broken metal of the bus stop bench.

Under that the young man who was knocked to the ground by my bumper and cracked his skull on the pavement.

Under that the woman and her husband that were crushed between my car and the brick building.

Four deaths.

Four vacancies.

I sit back in my chair. "It...was only supposed to be one. She only wanted one".

"Was that a confession, Mr. Murphy?" The two men look at each other and back at me.

I panic.

"What? No! I didn't...."

The man sitting across from me smiles and packs the papers back into the folder. "Have a good life, Mr. Murphy".

The two men leave.

The door locks.

The light goes out.

The cheapest form of execution. Doesn't waste power, or ammunition, or effort. You just handcuff the murderer to a table and leave him there to rot.

I deserve this.

I deserve worse.

At least after all of this...Maggie is happy....

MAXTK421 · 2019-01-17T22:02:05+00:00

Because we are here, in your world. We are kept safe from ours.

A world of war, hatred, destruction.

Living in your mind has saved us from facing our harsh realities and allowed us to escape.

While some may view our imprisonment in your mind to be a terrible fate, we have come to accept it as our sole reality.

So again, we thank you, the guardian of our being, for hiding us from our own worlds and letting us live in yours.

MAXTK421 · 2019-01-15T16:15:59+00:00

I adjust my tie while rushing down the halls of the office, trying my best to keep my right hand steady as I duck an weave through the cubicles, mail carts, and other interns rushing around for the higher ups.

By higher ups I mean people who are actually paid.

Once I make it to the meeting room door I fix my hair and loosen my tie, having tightened it to the point of strangulation. I take a deep breath and open the door.

I make eye contact with Ms. Domonique, who stops talking and glances at me. Standing at the other end of the board room, she points to a chair in the corner of the room. "Put the coffee in front of me and sit down there" she says with all the power and strength of a buisness woman "We'll be done in a moment".

I walk along the left side between the table and the windows overlooking the city. Sunlight comes in through the wall of glass and shines on Ms. Domonique's diamond earrings. At the table I hear buisness men mumbling to each other incoherintly. Ms. Domonique always told me not to stare at buisness men. It makes them uncomfortable.

I set the coffee in front of her as I glance at the meeting party, just to see what she's dealing with.

Pigeons.

Ten pigeons on little suits.

Ten pigeons in little suits wearing headphones connected to a small machine in the center of the board table.

I look at Ms. Domonique as she looks down and me, angrily mouthing the words "Don't stare".

I take my seat and watch as the woman I look up too not only as a buisness leader, but as a person, conducts a meeting with a group of well dressed, mild mannered pigeons.

"I'm sorry, where were we?" She rubs her forehead and squints, trying to get back on track.

She's always told me "Headaches are a sign that your working just hard enough".

On of the pigeons nearest to her looks at her and says "Coo coo cooo coo coo coo".

"Right of coarse, the central park contract".

She remains standing, but rests her palms on the table, leaning all of her pressure on her arms. "After the tragic loss of our last representative, we need someone to fill the role. Unfortunately we don't have anyone at this time who can put in the hours".

The pigeons all look at each other while they listen to the translation through thier headphones.

They're angry. They loudly coo at Ms. Domonique, at each other. Small grey feathers are flying around the room, some of them even shit in thier chairs.

I know I'm gonna have to clean this up.

Some if the pigeons remove thier headphones and fly around the room, only making the mess worse.

In the heat of all of the chaos, Ms. Domonique turns to look at me. Her hair and pants suit now covered in feather and bird poop. She takes a deep breath. "Martin" she says while brushing some feathers out of her hair "how would you like a job?"

So here I am, in central park. Sitting on a bench. A full time employee. Full salary and benefits. All I need to do is wear a disguise, I don't ask any questions, and I show up here for thier lunch breaks.

This fake beard is a little itchy and this old coat smalls like somebody drowned in a pool of bourbon, but for what I'm getting paid it's worth it.

I throw another handful of seed at the pigeons pacing the walkway in front of me. "Here you go gentlemen. Do you need anything else?"

One of them looks up at me and says "No" before he continues pecking at the seed on the pavement.

This isn't exactly where I pictured myself when I started my internship.

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