LJ Idol X – Week [29] – The Truth Shall Be Televised

It was rare that anyone would contact Ledbetter College to produce a video. For starters, Ledbetter didn’t actually have a film or television degree program. And even their theater was a stage at one end of the gym where the Ledbetter Lions played their home basketball games.

Most people either being tech savvy or having products that made them seem knowledgeable, would shoot something on their own with a phone or a digital camera. But the guy who contacted the school had a special request. He wanted some continual publicity at low cost so if he threw the school a bit of cash, they would make this video, use it as a promotion for the school itself and then he would be seen as a part of it, any time the school ran a promo. Getting more eyeballs on the project was key. There was also a suggestion that he could possibly get some funding for his work through the school, another reason to do some campus outreach.

Hal and Ray, each responsible Seniors, and each about to graduate with degrees in English Lit, were both fairly well versed in the methods of shooting a vid. Hal also had a way with words, so he could write up a script on the fly. Ray was expert at knowing what to show, so he’d be the cinematographer. They were permitted to use this shoot as a kind of internship, with the money they received going to help establish a Photo Department for the school. The bonus was they’d get to keep a portion of the payment and it would lead to an expansion for the campus and a possible opportunity for both Hal and Ray to establish themselves as instructors, if there was enough interest from incoming and undergrad students.

Arriving at their destination, Ray took a shot of the surrounding neighborhood, a rundown former church and its adjoining cemetery, a field with weeds as far as the eye could see, the cliff with the small wire fence as its only safeguard and the destination, the doctor’s home, a dark red bricked edifice with a deep sloping roof.

Before the lads could knock, the door was open and there was a tall and wide… person. Hal and Ray glanced at each other almost as if to say, how does this person come and go from this house?

“Are you Doctor Fremd?” Hal asked.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh…”

Suddenly Hal and Ray were also involuntarily screaming.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“Noooooooooooooo.” Said the door holder.

“Rogi, no! Rogi, go!” came a voice from behind the door. The door holder gingerly turned around and marched towards the back of the house as a man in a white lab coat and a three-piece dark grey suit without the jacket took its place.

“Hello. You must be the young men from the College,” he said, reaching out his hand to shake both of theirs.

“Are you Doctor Fremd,” asked Hal.

“Actually, it’s Doctor Friend,” Doctor Fremd said. “It’s an honest mistake. Won’t you come in?

Ray entered, filming the whole while, getting the high-ceilinged roof and the wider than you would expect staircase down to the basement.

“Come this way!” The doctor beckoned, and they entered his office.

“May I offer you some coffee or tea, or something a little harder? I know you college kids enjoy beer.”

Ray chimed in, “I was a little curious about who answered the door when we arrived.”

“Oh, that’s Rogi,” the Doctor said. “He’s an assistant.”

“More like Yogi because he’s the size of a bear,” Ray responded. “How does he fit through the front door?”

“I’m on a really tight schedule and I was told you were well prepared for this meeting. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Yes, sir.” Hal reached into his back pack and pulled out a notebook. “I worked up a short script based on the information we received about your project. I tied it back to Ledbetter because of the cross promotion.”

The doctor briefly read through the text. “This should suffice.”

“And we can shoot your comments right here in your office,” Ray said.

Moments later, after Ray set up a tripod in front of the doctor’s desk and cued him to begin.

“I appreciate the efforts made by Ledbetter College to help my progress and to aid my project. With the one-hundred thousand dollars they provided…”

“Cut.” Hal called.

“What happened?” asked the doctor.

“I didn’t write any amount or suggest you say an amount for this.”

“Are you actually getting a hundred thousand dollars from Ledbetter?” Ray asked. “We need to ask for more money for this gig!”

“This is a promotion for your school, am I correct in thinking this?” the doctor asked.

“Which is why you should not be saying any dollar figures as part of our video,” Hal retorted. “You might give prospective students the wrong idea.”

“You’re talking about students coming to the school,” said the doctor. “I’m referring to funding for research, crucial work that will change the course of humanity!”

“Maybe we should move on to what you are working on?” Ray suggested.

“We didn’t talk about that,” said the doctor. “I’m not completely prepared to show my lab.”

Ray quickly undocked the camera from the tripod and was ready to move, while Hal grabbed his back pack and they exited the office and headed for the staircase.

“The lab is downstairs, right?” Ray asked.

“Yes, but,”

“That’s fine,” Ray said. “I’ll just shoot around anything that doesn’t look savory. We’re not trying to make you look bad.”

“Who in the administration did you speak to about your research grant?” Hal asked as they descended the staircase.

“Actually, no one, yet.”

Hal laughed. “No one? That can’t be. You just said you got a hundred…”

At the foot of the stairs, the doctor shouldered the two students into an enclosed room and slammed the door shut and locked it. A small slit where light from the outer hall could be seen was just as quickly sealed. They were in total darkness.

“What the hell happened?” Ray asked.

“Nothing good, that’s for sure.” Hal responded. “Are you okay.”

“Yeah.” Ray flipped on one of the camera's lights to see and noticed a bunch of odd beetles crawling by his shoe and starting to march up his leg.

“Aaaaahhh!” he yelled, shaking his leg and swatting at the insects to get off his pants.”

“What’s going on?” Hal asked, pounding on the solid door. “Doctor Friend!” he called, “We need to talk to you.”

“And now I have no signal.” Ray lamented.

“So, we can’t call anyone to get us out of here?” Hal asked.

“I was livecasting the entire thing,” said Ray.

“You mean the whole thing, that big yogi thing at the door, the doctor and getting tossed into this cell is on your video channel?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure when I lost the signal. If it happened before we got thrown in here, I don’t know what it’ll look like. It might look like we just stopped the cast.”

“Do you know if anyone was watching?”

“I don’t,” Ray responded. “And I normally don’t cast at this time of day, so my usual audience isn’t around.”

“But someone will see it,” Hal said hopefully.

“If they look at the channel archives,” said Ray. “But not everyone does that right away. And I think I titled it ‘School Project’ so that probably isn’t going to help boost the interest.”

“So now what?”

“Maybe it’s time for a new plan,” came the voice from the darkness. Both Hal and Ray jumped so high, they would have set new track and field state records. Ray spun the light toward the sound and there was Rogi seated on the floor on a pile of straw that doubled as his bed.

“When I overheard that you were coming here, it gave a lot of us hope.” Rogi cried.

“Are you recording this,” Hal whispered. Ray nodded back.

“Who are you,” Ray called to him.

“I am more than the sum of my parts. But my parts are not all me.”

Both Hal and Ray stood in stunned silence.

“I am a creation, a being made by Doctor Fromd.”

“That’s Doctor Friend,” Ray corrected him.

“He is no ‘Friend.’” Rogi corrected him.

“Point taken,” said Hal. “Are you his research project?”

“One. He has ten that I know of and at least twice that many that have already failed.”

“And what is he attempting to accomplish,” Ray asked. “Is he trying to create new creatures, extend the life expectancy of humans?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he knows. But he is just trying things and seeing what works, and if anything does, he keeps it.”

“You just said that when you heard we were coming it gave you a lot of hope,” Hal said. “Who are you talking about?”

“All of us, his experiments.” Rogi cried. “we are all in great pain.”

“Physical pain?”

“Physical pain, emotional pain.”

“How can we help you, now?” Hal asked. “We’re trapped in here.”

“I have a way of getting out.” Rogi said. “But you have to promise to do one thing for us.

“Of course,” Ray said. “What is it?”

“Please. Please. Kill us.”

//

This story was written for LJ Idol and was based on The Future Shall Rise, a story by halfshellvenus, written during Week 15 of this season’s competition.

LJ Idol X – Week [29] - Race

It was very warm that May of Eighteen hundred and sixty-four. Unpleasantly hot, truth be told. But the temperature still was not as hot as the hotheads who made that wager.

You’d think that neighbors would get along well with one another. ’Specially those that have so much in common. Jebediah Jehosaphat and Rory Calhoun. Two gentlemen farmers, they were. Each had a spread, parcels of land, acres and acres next to each other and they’d farm cotton crops, and they each put up soldiers as them troops moved through the area, usually north to the front lines, but sometimes south with their wounded and dead.

Let me tell you, these two? They were the cream of the Confederacy. They might have won the war if they’d’ve teamed up and joined the fray. Too busy fightin’ each other, I s’pose.

Oh! But as I were sayin’, that May of ’64, there came this heatwave like we hadn’t had in a long spell. Crickets were chirping without a stop, bullfrogs were looking for ponds but all they found was mud about a foot deep, where there was mud. It was the blazes, even at night, the air was like a wool blanket in a furnace.

I don’t know what got into those two one evening but they must’ve been drinking some rum and chasing it with corn whisky because they started in with their measuring. This one had the largest cotton field or that one had the biggest kitchen. But you could always tell things were about to get agitated when they started measuring each other. It always started with who had the purdyer wife. But this time it turned to who could satisfy, with her womanly attentions, her man.

Maybe Rory said something first, about how Jeb’s wife couldn’t stand the stench of the stink beneath her husband’s male saddlebag, maybe it was Jeb who said Rory’s wife was losing her eyesight from trying to find her husband’s staff, then one of them said something about how the only thing the other one’s wife pricked her finger with was her stitching needle.

Somebody had had enuf, and a challenges were issued. There were some back and forth about it, how to do it and what be the stakes and whatnot, but Jeb, a lawyer by trade, decided to write it all out, legal-like, and they made it official with witnesses watching ’em sign the document.

They agreed to a race. It was gonna be two laps around both their properties. The winner would receive one Confederate Dollar. And the loser would die.

In the week leading up to the race, you could tell, there was pride on display. Word got around to the nearby counties and people started coming to see this big event. You would’ve thought the Circus come to town the way the people were clamoring. Most anything to take their minds off of the war, which tw’ern’t goin’ so well.

Come the day of the race, and a crowd of people showed up in the heat. A lotta folks wanted to be near the finishing line to see the results first hand. But others preferred to be out of the sun and found some shade along the course with some trees. And that were important because of the rules.

There were parasols for the ladies and a drinking gourd was by the well so that the viewers could wet their whistle. It was time to introduce the competitors.

“Hello, everyone! My name is Rory Calhoun, and I am the proprietor of the Calhoun Plantation!”

The crowd applauded mostly to get the air moving.

“My name is Jebediah Jehosaphat, and I am the owner of the Three Js Plantation.”

More applause.

After the speechifying, there came the moment, the two men who would race each other got to lay eyes on one another.

“Hammer?”

“Jesse?”

“The winner of the race will get a week off from their duties, as a part of the prize!”

“The race is two times around the property and the person crossing the line first is the champion!”

The crowd cheered, hoping to cool the air down in any way, most of ’em. And examining the competitors, there was a question whether some of the ladies in attendance were swooning only from the heat.

The two slaves, Hammer for Calhoun and Jesse for Jehosaphat stood next to each other, each shirtless and already glistening with the dew of their bodies. Anyone could see they were evenly matched in height, weight, and muscle tone, each of them valued members of their masters. But that was the thing. Hammer and Jesse were brothers.

“Are both ready?”

The two brothers looked at each other, then looked back and nodded.

“Go!”

And go they did! It was a speedy start as they both took off, keeping stride for stride as they disappeared around the first turn. And that was about when I got involved.

See, I knew there were a bunch of people watching the northern side of the land to make sure these two weren’t gonna run for freedom, so before they got that far, I ran through the brambles and bushes and met them.

“Stop, stop!” I waved them over to the side of the road and I told them what I knew. That the loser of the race was gonna get kilt.

They didn’t want to believe it, at first. But why would I lie, I told them and I told them about the wager. Then it became what to do. If they tried to escape, they would be recaptured and then they’d prob’ly be tortured before getting kilt. And they both got babies born since the war started.

It was Hammer who said “Let’s finish the race in a tie.”

“What’s that gonna do?” Jesse asked. “Won’t that mean we’ll just have to race again?”

“What else is there?” Hammer asked. “Besides, this is just some contest to see who is best. If we both tie, then maybe they’ll see that don’t make no nevermind.”

“Yeah. I guess you right, brotha.” Jesse answered.

Just then, about a thousand yards away, I could see some movement up ahead. One of them spotters was peepin’ down the road. I dashed back through the brambles and they went on their way.

I got back to the house before they crossed the finishing line the first time. Hammer had a slight lead but Jesse was close enough to touch if he fell down. That’s when Jehosaphat brought out his whip and cracked it on Jesse’s backsides. ‘Jesse moved in front in a matter of steps, while Hammer was moving too fast for Rory to do the same. They dashed off out of sight and again toward the northern part of the course.

I couldn’t help but wonder what they were all about. Did they talk on the way? Did they consider trying to make a break? Did they think maybe their women or their babies would suffer because of it? In a way, I started to hope that they did try to get away, ’cause this would have been their best chance to make it.

At the finishing line, I saw that a man was setting up some large contraption. It looked like some sort of picture frame with one big glass eye in the middle of it. I could overhear the man explaining it was to capture a likeness of the end of the race. It kinda looked like some sort of cannon to me.

We waited for them to come around, and I looked to see if their families were around. I was thankful that they wasn’t cause I didn’t want to see they faces.

I could hear shouting. And here they came, around the bend! Both Calhoun and Jehosaphat ran up and started whipping Hammer and Jesse as they started to come down for the final yards. Calhoun would whip Hammer and he’d inch ahead, then Jehosaphat would whip Jesse and he’d move up.

The four men, all running to the finishing line, the two masters flogging their property until the last minute when the masters moved out of the way of the picture maker. Suddenly a flash of white light and the two racers continued past the line, breathless, battered and bathed in their own sweat and blood from their open wounds.

Who won, everyone wanted to know. Many on the inside of the track saw Hammer cross the line first. But the folks on the far side thought Jesse made it first.

The referee said it looked like it was a tie. He couldn’t tell.

The masters decided to wait to see about the picture, so it took a couple of days more, but even the picture had both Hammer’s and Jesse’s feet crossin’ the finishing line at the same time. They did it! Hammer and Jesse did the tie!

Later that day, both masters brought Hammer and Jesse’s families out to the backyard of the Calhoun estate, took them away from their daily chores and had them sit down on chairs. Then they brought out Hammer and Jesse who were busy at work themselves. Then they brought out all the slaves from both plantations to stand behind and view the presentation.

“We had a wager,” Jehosaphat said, “and there was no resolution.”

“We had hundreds of guests to view this race,” Calhoun said, “And there was no winner.”

“So, for that,” Jehosaphat said.

“We now have this.” Calhoun said.

Both men drew revolvers and fired at each other’s slaves. Both Hammer and Jesse screamed a single time before they fell, both hit the ground at the same time, bleedin’ the same blood.

The two slave owners stood over their bodies as they squirmed and watched the last bit of life oozing out of them, frowned up, then caught a glance of each other, lookin’ at the other. Then, they started to chuckle and laugh, before shaking their heads, then doing some backslaps and hand clasps. They waved the rest of us back to our tasks, the mamas trying to hush up their babies, still crying from the jolt and sound of the pistol fire.

After that, the rivalry between those two never much amounted to nothin’. But then again, neither did the Confederacy.

//

This story was written for LJ Idol using a prompt from Week [17] of this season’s competition: Nevermind.

LJ Idol X – Week [29] – Interview With The Average American White Guy

Interviewer: Today, we’re having a discussion about the state of the nation, and we wanted to ask an Average American what they think. Pardon me sir?

Average American White Guy (doing something on a smart phone, glances up and then looks at the camera) Oh, hey.

I: What’s your name?

AAWG: Why do you want to know?

I: I don’t mean to be intrusive.

AAWG: Sure, you did. That’s what all you so-called (makes “air quotes” with his fingers, still holding his smart phone) “newscasters” do.

I: We’re live by the way.

AAWG: In that case let me say to all my peeps out there a big fu—

I: I WAS TELLING YOU - I was telling you we were live to PREVENT you from saying something inappropriate for broadcast.

AAWG: I was only wishing my friends a fun day. What did you think I was going to say?

I: Let’s get to the question.

AAWG: No. First, I want you to say what you thought I was going to say when you interrupted me.

I: I believed you were going to say a word we couldn’t broadcast on television.

AAWG: And that’s why, ladies and gentlemen, we have a problem in this country. The media assumes wrongdoing before it even happens and they base what their reactions and what they show on their own biases.

I: That is a little bit unfair.

AAWG: You came up to me to talk. Then you assume that I’m going to say something wrong? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

I: Let’s get to the question. How are you viewing the country today?

AAWG: First I’m thankful for those that serve in the military. The constant sacrifices of those families is what keeps our country strong and proud. Don’t let what the unpatriotic say and do stop you. Stay strong. America is getting great again.

I: Specifically, what do you see is wrong with the country right now?

AAWG: Mostly it’s the liberal media portraying the president as either somebody who’s evil or somebody who’s stupid. Where was that when we needed it during the Obama administration?

I: So you believe that the Obama administration was evil and/or stupid?

AAWG: I believe that the media never challenged it because they thought they’d be considered (using ‘air quotes’ again) “racist” even though there were hundreds of things they did that were illegal or at least immoral. Call a spade a spade!

I: Can you give some examples of what you’re talking about, either from the Obama side that you think were not reported or from the Trump side that you think are not fair?

AAWG: Come on. You call yourself a (using ‘air quotes’) “journalist?” If you don’t know what these things are, it’s not up to me to educate you. There’s plenty of proof online if you would ever even bother to look.

I: What sort of job do you think President Trump is doing?

AAWG: He’s doing a lot better than anyone is willing to give him credit for. He named a great Supreme Court Justice. He’s building the wall to help keep our border safe, two things he said he would do, he’s got the economy going great and he would have gotten rid of Obamacare if Congress and Mitch McConnell hadn’t screwed it up.

I: How do you blame Congress for that issue?

AAWG: They were the ones who voted to stop it. If they didn’t, Trump can sign off on it and it’s over.

I: And you don’t believe that Trump treating John McCain like something other than a war hero had any effect on McCain’s vote.

AAWG: That’s what I’m talking about. The media ALWAYS wants to blame Trump. Why should Trump be punished for calling it like he sees it?

I: Let me ask you this. How do you feel personally, about your own life and how things are progressing and what you see for the future?

AAWG: I’ll be honest, I’m concerned. Everybody is out to get white guys these days. It’s clearly the worst thing you can be in the United States.

I: No, but seriously…

AAWG: I’m being serious! It’s like being a dirty word or something. You can’t have a march, you can’t be critical of anybody without somebody saying “white privilege.” Let me tell you, I’m not privileged. I had to work hard for everything I got.

I: You do realize that the word “privilege” doesn’t mean you didn’t have to work for what you have.

AAWG: I don’t care what it means to you. I care what it means to ME.


I: I’m just saying...

AAWG: You’re constantly (‘air quotes’) “just sayin’” and nobody is ever really doing. (glances at his phone screen) Look at this, my phone is blowin’ up! Thank my friends for helping your ratings.

I: Speak a little bit more about what your fears are all about.

AAWG: I don’t want to say I side with the Nazis or White Supremacists or anything. I’m not about that in the least. But let’s be honest. They do have a point.

I: Are you really…

AAWG: Now hear me out! Hear me out. When you look at how white guys are treated in this country? It’s like THEY are the illegal immigrants. All the criticism, all the anger is directed at us, and Trump is kind of the lightning rod for that. He is the Average White Guy, and we’re seeing all the hate from everyone who is not. That’s why people hate him. He’s just the white guy and people hate white guys right now. We can’t say a word. We have no voice.

I: Do you really believe that Trump is the Average White Guy?

AAWG: Well he is a white guy, but no, really, he’s better than average. And he’s helping to give us our voice back. You read his tweets. You know what he talks about. This way, he’s going right to the people to tell them his thoughts. They aren’t getting filtered and censored by the mainstream.

I: What would you like to see; what is your best case scenario?

AAWG: I hope that Ginsburg and Kennedy croak so that Trump gets to appoint two more justices to the Supreme Court. I hope that people start holding the people who really are responsible for the problems in this country responsible, like the illegal immigrants who should be kicked out of the country as soon as they’re found, the welfare cheats who are a major tax burden to the hard-working people of our country, the people causing the violent crime who need to be locked up and taken out of our society permanently, and that people like you, in the media, will finally stop poking into areas that nobody cares about. How many times can people ask to see those stupid taxes? How many times can people claim Russia is involved when there is no proof?

I: And what do you think the final result of all of that would be?

AAWG: Making America Great Again! The idea was to go back to a time when America stood for something, when men were men and weren’t afraid to act like it, where women were women and weren’t competing with the men who are working to support them. Where we aren’t flaunting our sexual deviancy for everyone to see. Where we don’t punish a business owner for making a moral decision between their faith and their need to obey a law that is wrong. Where we all stand for the National Anthem. Where we protect against illegals and support those in charge. That’s MY kind of America. And that’s Trump’s America. Welcome to it, unless you don’t belong here.

I: As you can tell, there are strong feelings on both sides of the discussion. And clearly this is how some of America…

AAWG: MOST of America.

I: (using ‘air quotes’) “MOST” of America is feeling right about now. Back to you in the studio.

//

This piece was written for LJ Idol using a prompt from Week [23] of this season’s competition: Backing The Wrong Horse.