My adventures promoting my books on the streets of Brooklyn, and my thoughts on books, film and current events.
I thank Jack of Chase Bank, who purchased five more thrillers today, and the gentleman who overpaid for We the People, a history of America's most important documents. "We need this now more than ever," he said. "You're not kiddin'," I replied. "Don't worry, we'll get 'em in November," he assured. I hope he's right. Confidence is not inspired when a Supreme Court justice described as a conservative takes liberal positions.
Here's some fun to lighten a dark mood - an excerpt from All Hallows, a screenplay. Ozzie is a retired sheriff recruited to help track down five nuts who have escaped an asylum. Romero is one of them.
Part 23: Ozzie in his pickup, cruising along an isolated two-lane road. From the opposite direction a lone head light appears. The knight roars past him. Ozzie veers onto the shoulder to turn the pickup around.
Ozzie: Didn't take long, did it?
As he turns and rolls forward, he sees the Harley turning in the distance. He parks on the shoulder, leaving the headlights on, shining in the direction of the Knight. He exits, shotgun in hand, and stands in the middle of the road. He focuses on the headlight and has a flashback to Korea, a flare lighting up the night, the Chinese attacking. He fires into the air. The Harley stops 50 yards ahead. The Knight raises his visor.
Romero: Friend or foe?
Ozzie: It's your call, son. Step off the bike and put your hands up.
Romero: Surrender? Me? Beware, sir. You do not know with whom it is you speak. I am sworn to defend the defenseless, right the wronged.
Ozzie lowers the gun, reflecting.
Ozzie: Are you the famous Don Quixote de la Mancha?
Romero: I am.
Ozzie: I'm Oswald, Prince of Bela. Come to my castle and break bread with me.
Romero: First swear that Dulcinea del Toboso is the flower of the world.
Ozzie: Why, she's the most beautiful woman I ever saw. Everybody says so.
The Knight beams.
Romero: I would be honored to share your table, sir. By chance, have you seen my squire, Sancho Panza?
Ozzie: He's dinin' with my wife this minute. He's been entertainin' us with fantastic tales of your deeds. Are they true?
Romero: Noble servant. Of course they are true.
He rolls forward a few feet, stops.
Romero: Wait. You're no prince. You're one of the infernal phantoms who plagues me. To arms, villain.
The Knight lowers his visor, then the lance, and revs the engine. Ozzie scrambles to the shoulder, positioning himself behind the pickup. As the Knight nears, Ozzie fires at the front wheel and sends the Harley into a spin. The Knight rolls off and tumbles into the ditch.
Ozzie: Damn fool.
He approaches the ditch, wary, and has a flashback of himself on night patrol in Korea. The Knight is lying on his back, apparently unconscious, his clothes even more shredded. Fresh, raw wounds abound. The helmet has a second dent. Suddenly be springs to a sitting position and swings the sheathed, bent samurai into Ozzie's knee. As Ozzie crumples, the shotgun goes off, tearing holes in the side of the Knight's thigh. The Knight cries out, swinging the sword reflexively, striking a glancing blow to the head of the falling Ozzie. The two lay dazed. The Knight is the first to stir. He sits up, crawls, and kneels beside Ozzie, who has rolled onto his back. Ozzie has a flashback of a Chinese soldier looking down on him from above a foxhole.
Romero: And now, worthy foe, according to the rules of knight errantry, I must have your head. Ozzie's vision is blurred.
Ozzie: You got your centuries all mixed up, son, just like I got my decades mixed up tonight. Romero: To whom shall I pay tribute in your honor?
Ozzie: To my good wife, Harriet Oswald, who deserved better. Sorry to leave you alone in this crazy world, sweetheart.
Romero: I will tell her how gallantly you fought and met death.
The Knight grasps the handle of the sword.
Ozzie: One more thing.
The Knight pauses, looks at Ozzie.
Ozzie: I hear that lady of yours looks like somethin' you'd hack up after a quart of rot gut.
Furious, the Knight pulls at the handle of the sword. The sheath is so misshapen, however, it will not yield.
Ozzie: Oh, Lord - what a world.
The Knight whacks him on the head with the sheathed sword.
Visit Vic’s sites:
Vic’s Third Novel (Print or Kindle): http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic’s Website: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
Vic’s Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic’s 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic’s 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic’s Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3f