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Post by mentalguru on Dec 29, 2009 17:42:15 GMT -5
Just post up very short conversations/scenes or whatever. Here's one I just made up because I am horrifically immature. Just like Randall here. Characters: Randall, Mike and Sulley. Before movie events. (Just when Randall BEGINS the scream extractor perhaps?) "Well at least I have a girlfriend!"
'Oh boy'. Sulley tried his best not to roll his eyes at this juvenile statement, of course coming from his best friend. Granted, it seemed as if both his friend's and Randall's arguments always descended into such spats. He'd once, in his more naive days, had thought they'd left such things behind in high school (such a long time ago it was too...). Unfortunatly, Randall seemed to bring out the very worst in Mike and vice-versa.
Randall seemed to have grown just a tad more irritable these days. Mike claimed it was only jealousy, jealousy since they'd recently been having somewhat of a streak when it came to the top position, a position that more often than not (although not ALL the time), had once been held by Randall himself usually.
Sulley was sad to think that this in of itself may be true. He could see no OTHER obvious or apparent change which had resulted in him turning sour. There was no other noticible changes in their lives, other than perhaps the political nervousness of the possibility of a scream shortage... but surely that would be a time for the top two scarers to pull together?
Sometimes he wondered if he should talk to Waternoose about it. The arguments Mike and Randall engaged on got on his nerves. But THAT made him feel like a child and simply returned them to the issue that they might as well be back in high school again.
In some ways, the company WAS like high school all over again.
And as was somewhat typical of highschool, EVERYONE was watching in the mess room they were currently in, and Sulley once more felt like he wished the ground would swallow him whole. He wasn't always shy about attention, but this was the kind they really didn't need. None of them needed it. It was utterly humilating sometimes how those two argued, and at times he didn't really know who he was more annoyed at regarding it.
"Guys...." he started to say tiredly, but they completely ignored him.
"What's the matter Randall, jealous?" Mike repeated, apparently, him thinking that having found someone willing to date him while Randall remained single was like someone winning the monster equivilant noble prize.
Perhaps it was almost. Sulley had heard FAR too many rumours and stories than he had ever wanted to know regarding his ex-trainer. These little details often made him wish there was really such a thing called 'mind-bleach' to wash away the mental images.
Women terrified him sometimes.
Randall at first looked incredibly angry, and for a short amount of time Sulley thought he might have even looked slightly hurt. However this was only for a mere flicker, and it was gone. Sulley was sure he must have imagined it when a smile instead crossed the monster's face:
"Wazowski, I'm flattered, but unfortunatly for you I'm not on the same team." He paused.
"Sullivan." He nodded in slight more respect than Sulley had been used to lately, who merely blinked in surprise as he walked away, the rest of the canteen giggling.
Sulley was sure he could time to the last millisecond when his best friend finally realised what precisely Randall had been getting at.
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Post by sgtyayap on Dec 29, 2009 17:52:27 GMT -5
Nice idea, showing what kind of characters they were before the events we saw. Though, I'm confused about the ending. What had Randall been getting at?
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Post by mentalguru on Dec 29, 2009 17:55:07 GMT -5
It IS a bit vague...
Think of it this way... Mike is claiming Randall should be jealous that he has a girlfriend because their argument as basically descended to that kind of silly stuff.
RANDALL is claiming Mike wants Randall to be jealous because he 'bats for the other side' (plays for the same team) in reality and the whole girlfriend thing is a cover for his TRUE feelings. He's implying (jokingly that is) that Mike LIKES RANDALL (in that way), and the whole girlfriend thing is a failed attempt to get Randall's attention- as a joke that is.
It's also a bit of a Freudian slip though- Randall doesn't feel like he's 'on the same team' with Sulley or Mike anyway either I guess you could say.
I had to do this, because I'm kind of in a silly mood right now. Heh.
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Post by mistica0christina on Dec 29, 2009 18:49:58 GMT -5
Okay, that was funny!
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Post by mentalguru on Dec 30, 2009 13:08:46 GMT -5
Thasnks Mistica!
I want EVERYONE to use this thread though for their drabbles. Perhaps just little scenes which you like but could never expand into a fanfiction, or little musings on a character.
Now for another two drabbles! Here's the first one:
Characters: Randall, his perspective. Sulley, Waternoose and Mike mentioned.
Timeline: A Sulley in training.
When it came to training, Randall had to admit, he could have done alot worse than having Mr. Sullivan "Please, call me Sulley" as a student. He'd certainly SEEN worse even if he'd only been training for just over a year prior to his present one-on-one trainee.
Trainee. He still found it odd that he was technically mentoring someone who was his senior by over a decade. Before hand people had been at least a little younger. Still, Randall had to admit, that despite perhaps being a little slow on the uptake in some areas, Mr.Sullivan... SULLEY, was on the whole perfectly fine to work with. He listened intently, paid him respect despite his more advanced years and on the whole had the talent to make it through. It wouldn't take long for him to get this 'newbie' out on the scare floor and earning screams, no doubt about that.
There were however two wrinkles to the whole thing.
The first was Mr. Waternoose. Randall was not sure how much he appreciated the old CEO's presence at times. Granted, being a very busy man, he wasn't there ALL the time, but he seemed to be there a great deal more than he was usually with trainees. It was slightly unnerving. While he seemed kind enough to them both, sometimes with the old CEO... it felt as if he was continually judging you. It felt like Sulley's preformance wasn't the ONLY one being remarked upon when he gave tips. Randall felt annoyed at best over this whole thing. It was if he was subtly trying to say Randall wasn't up to scratch as a trainer.
He probably didn't mean it, Randall decided. And he was hardly suicidal enough to tell someone as powerful as him to back off anyway.
He was HIS student however and he didn't understand the specific interest, even if he was a good deal older than most other new recruits. People had been afraid he couldn't handle it, going in so late in the game. Well, Randall would make sure he'd prove them wrong. If Waternoose stopped interrupting perhaps.
Granted Mr.Sullivan apparently was a 'special case', coming from a long line of above-average scarers. He'd just recently found the drive to pursue this legacy himself.
At first Randall had been fearful of having some snobbish brat on his hands who thought just because his family had been great meant he was too. Never let it be said that the working class can't have 'snobs'. Randall knew this from experience.
He'd been relieved to find that this hadn't been so.
Still, Waternoose's presence annoyed him. Sometimes he had to wonder even when the two of them were alone if the old crab could somehow blend in a similiar manner to himself...
The second wrinkle was smaller... and a good deal louder.
Having been slightly imbittered when he'd been deemed unfit physically speaking as a scarer, Wazowski (Randall REFUSED on principle to attach 'Mr.' to his name), had taken it upon himself to set up a grudge.
In truth Wazowski was just jealous Randall decided. Jealous perhaps of not only the fact they (yes, 'they') were either going to be or were scarers and he was not but the fact that Sulley was spending so much time with him.
And perhaps it would continue.
Perhaps Randall could even try to see if he'd end up on HIS floor. Sulley was to be his last student according to his superiors. He wanted to see his last, and hopefully greatest work in action after all.
Even Waternoose had seemed pleased at the idea when he'd suggested it. Quite enthusiastic really, though Randall couldn't really figure out why.
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Post by mentalguru on Dec 30, 2009 13:33:40 GMT -5
The second one!
Characters: Sulley. Human kids mentioned.
Time line: Sulley. Newly trained scarer.
If he was ever asked what it was about human children which was the most terrifying, Sulley tended to give the default answer that everyone had- their toxicity.
And while on some level this was indeed true, on another level it was far more than that.
While other more experienced scarers watched out for and feared the hands and arms of a human child, (because after all, they could touch you), Sulley also feared another part in addition to these.
The eyes.
Sulley wasn't sure why but they were so unlike the robotic version, whose eyes were souless and dead.
In their eyes he saw something like that of a monster's, his fellow monsters. It was almost... creepy. They looked so STRANGE in some ways and yet also familar in others. Their eyes were monsters eyes and vice versa. Or they seemed to be anyway.
But that couldn't be true. They were only animals in the end. EVERYONE knew that. AND they were dangerous! The fear still remained in the end, which lent weight to this argument. So he pushed the rediculous questions of their eyes to the back of his mind. He moved on. The effect of the eyes dulled. He forgot the questions in time.
He never knew that so many scarers had at some point had wondered about this very thing themselves. So many had then simply shaken their heads at the notion, chastising themselves for being rediculous and forgot.
After all they were just animals.
Everybody knew that.
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Post by RandallBoggs on Dec 30, 2009 19:20:07 GMT -5
Seems SOMEBODY listen to my Pixar Planet post about Waternoose's involvement in Sullivan's training heh heh. Funny as Sullivan in training is how one story I'm cooking up starts. Rather proud of it really since it's really a flashback and is morely, to me, the perfect beginning to a Pi.....ahem.
Well lets see drabble....hmm...don't know...most of the stuff I use in the stories usually fit in at some point...
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Post by mentalguru on Jan 3, 2010 12:59:41 GMT -5
Well in case anyone DOES ever want to use this thread... well you can. You never know after all, might have some ideas you even just want to hash out for your multichapter fics or long one-shots and want to ask people before you post them up on an FF.net or Pixar Planet for example. Like if you don't want to reveal your FULL story just yet even- but you have this one scene you are unsure of and want someone's opinion over. -shrugs- These are JUST drabbles for me, but you never know- and I'd like to know what people think. When I have trouble with longer stories- I write drabbles. They can help and don't take up too much time, plus it's easier for me to spot my own mistakes in shorter pieces. They're like 'warm-ups' sometimes for me. Just small short things. I think people sometimes miss the potential of drabbles or even prompts- to try and convey a position or show a small little scene which could have large ramifications in the main story/characters or its universe. I THINK I might at some stage post my own ones on FF.net Though I probably will not. We'll see. Here is the Waternoose one, more or less at least- you know, the one I TRIED to post in PP but something went wrong? Anyway, I've come back to have ANOTHER shot at it. Basically this drabble shows Waternoose as being VERY young, and how perhaps he was raised into the man he eventually became. See a twisted part of me also feels pity for Waternoose as already mentioned- it seems like he's been taught perhaps that TRUE love and companionship comes second or perhaps it's even a weakness. While he has... some sociopathic tendancies, I don't think he's a FULL sociopath perhaps- and that most of his behaviour was probably instilled by how he was raised rather than some general neurological problem. In other words I don't think Waternoose was born. Rather he was 'made'. And who made him? Perhaps the person who quite literally made him in another sense. This has a very young Waternoose acting... dare I say it... cute? (Can that be possible? But he does... bizzarly, act a little bit like an older Boo in some ways... disturbing.) Not to mention the kid inadvertaedly setting up his future from one little line said in innocence: I personally think it is child abuse on some level NOT only to continually tell a child they are worth LESS than people, but also that they are somehow worth MORE than other people in some way. It does a disservice to people, and can waste not just one but many lives. Also includes two Ocs- an 'ancestor' of Sulley directly (has the same surname), and perhaps the first one ever to have a try at scaring, plus his 'scaled' companion who... heh, who knows he ISN'T related to Randall probably, but certainly looks like him at any rate. (Like I said before I like irony.) 'Know your place'Henry! Get back here at once!" he commanded, his voice rising as his son turned the corner. "DON'T go there!"
He would have to, at the very least, have a very stern lecture with that nursemaid, if not completely fire her when they got back home. Clearly, she had not been listening to him regarding the importance of discipline or appearances at ALL.
And his son, his namesake, was truely not listening to him. Despite his usual awe filled wonderment when it came to his father on the rare moments he saw him, this was quickly displaced by the excitement of somewhere NEW to explore. His first visit to the family business was quickly turning into a disaster in his father's opinion.
The young crab was quick on his feet, quicker indeed than his own father, so it took him a minute or so to eventually catch up with him down along the multitude of corriders the building had.
(How perfectly humilating. He hoped that none of his employees had seen him display such a lack of decorum. Or his son come to that.)
He paused at the scene before him and felt anger rise within him, which he struggled to control.
What he was witnessing might not have seemed offensive to many other people, but to him it was.
It appeared that his son had run into two employees. Refiners it seemed, and he knew them from somewhere. His mind beginning to race, he immediately made the connection to their faces and why he knew them.
Not only were they refiners, but both were also in the process of training in the hope they would eventually become scarers one day. He had seen them at orientation a few weeks ago, when he had given a speech. They had been pushing it seemed, two carts filled with canisters, but it at the moment they had abandoned their duties temporaily in order to entertain his son.
But their lack of attention to duty wasn't what insulted his sensabilities.
No, it was the fact that they were currently pulling the most rediculous faces to his son, who was pointing and laughing very hard at them as they did so. It seemed most unbecoming in a place where the point was to gain the screams of human children that they should be trying to gain laughter from his flesh and blood. His only son, who was turning a faint shade of purple from the mirth, something most unbecoming of someone whose family took pride in their lily white shell.
No respect for the family name it seemed. They HAD to know he was a Waternoose. It was impossible for them not to.
But he was not his father. He would not be like his father for he was indeed smarter than his predecessor. The suggestion of threats always had more impact than direct ones, he had found. He knew how to handle this:
"Ah, Mr.Sullivan, Mr Emerson." he said in a pleasent tone, although it had a slight edge "I must apologise for my son."
The two monsters, who had not noticed him it seemed, quickly snapped to attention. His son looked surprised. Good. Perhaps he'd learn something.
Mr.Sullivan towered over them all, and he tried to resist the urge to raise himself on his many legs in order to compensate. Besides, there were so many more interesting and better ways to cut someone down to size.
His furred face was soft in appearance and he tried his best to look serious and professional with his arms by his side, almost like a soldier, which was in direct contrast to the face of his colourfully scaled companion, Mr.Emerson.
He instead smiled awkwardly, showing his many rows of teeth, and placed his many limbs behind his back, though his tail and fronds were raised, also betraying some agitation.
The reason he remembered them more so than some other trainees was because he'd heard of their potential on the winds. Apparently, both these pair had the potential to be excellent scarers.
They were useful then, and perhaps could have some sort of other use some day, so it was best perhaps not to alienate them completely, but at least to drive the message home:
"I must apologise," he repeated, "For my son from causing you to abandon your work, it won't happen again. After all, we do have appraisals coming up."
"Oh, uh no, no problem sir," Mr.Sullivan stammered "Your son is very fun- um, polite."
Mr.Emerson said nothing, but nodded slightly in agreement. Though he continued to smile in such a way that it seemed as if he wanted someone to shoot them both right then and there.
Good.
"We'll leave you to your work then," he said promptly, and with that the pair left, Mr.Sullivan almost letting one of the canisters fall of the cart in his haste, until his companion caught it with his tail and put it back as quickly as possible without stopping.
He did hear some mutterings as they turned the corner, and he was satisfied they had got the message.
But as for his son...
"Henry." He said sternly. "What have I said about you wondering off by yourself?"
"That... I shouldn't father?" the boy asked.
"Yes, and as for that atrocious display you just witnessed from those..."
"But father, it was funny and..."
He interrupted: "Child listen to me, it doesn't MATTER if you found it to be funny. It displays a lack of respect, what those pair did. Disrespect to YOU, to ME, to this VERY COMPANY." he said raising his voice.
He paused and then continued.
"I regret having been so late into this part of your education my son, but you must know your place- which is to say, above people like them."
"Huh?"
"Do not say things like that, it makes you sound illiterate, I did not hire the best tutors money could buy just for you to say things like that. Or to find such rediculous things amusing! You are smarter, superior and on the whole simply better than things like that. And them. It's time you realised that."
There was a short silence, which the boy soon filled:
"But they seem nice, father. Perhaps we could even be friends? Perhaps I could even be a scarer too one day!" he said brightly.
But, Henry," the older crab torn between laughter him self and rebuking him further, "Why would you even WANT to. We are above them, it is in your blood to take control of the company. It is my legacy, and one day it shall be yours too. Why lower yourself to such a position?"
"But father, if they're my FRIEND, won't that mean they're more likely to do what I want? Because they like me?" he asked innocently.
"Well I-"
And for the first time in his life perhaps, Henry J. Waternoose the Second was shocked. In a good way.
His look of surprise eventually broke into a smile as he picked the young boy up "Why you... BRILLIANT child. Oh yes, you are definitly my son. I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner..." he continued to think outloud as he paced, making sure no-one was within ear shot.
His son was pretty confused at this turn of events. He was only six years old after all.
His father continued to talk as he entered the office room and then placed the child back on the floor:
"Times... HAVE changed.... sometimes being the one who inspires fear isn't ENOUGH even in a company which runs on it..." he looked thoughtful as he continued to muse on this and glanced back down at him.
"Such a terrible thing for you to have to do... to reduce yourself but... for the good of the company and family... perhaps it would be necessary."
Henry blinked again.
"There IS an old saying about keeping your friends and enemies close to you." he continued for a moment, as if Henry wasn't there. This sometimes happened. "It's too late for ME to change my image but... YOU are just beginning to make your mark." he grinned.
Henry looked uncertain at first, but the smile of approval felt good, so he MUST have done something right all in all.
Like there was any doubt. He was a Waternoose after all, he remembered. Though he was still slightly unsure of what that meant.
"Just like friends or enemies... the same can be said for those beneath you."
He looked as if he was going to give him an important speech, so Henry looked attentive and interested as best as he could:
"In this life son, everyone has their use. Oh yes, everyone. You might not be aware exactly of what that use might BE at first, but it is always a good idea to think of the possibilities. What can people DO for you? For us?"
He paused. "It's a brilliant plan once again my son, most excellent, of course as I have already said you ARE my son, so why should I be surprised? But yes, become a SCARER, when you're older, state that you are trying to find the very roots of the company and how it works... even connections made in a sewer can become your safety net later on my son."
He stepped closer to him,
"Of course, I understand it will be hard sometimes my boy," he said with almost a sympathetic tone of voice, "You will feel repulsed that you might have to reduce yourself like that, but remember, without us, the company is nothing, it means nothing and so it is even the same for us without the company." he nodded sagely. "Just never forget however my boy, we come first. It's how the world works. Everyone has a use, but people who become more of a hinderance... well I'll tell you what to do when you get older."
He suddenly gripped the boy's shoulder's and stared him right in the eye:
"We are ABOVE them. We always will be."
At first, the young boy hestitated. But the hesitation was brief, and he nodded.I enjoyed this more when I wrote it the FIRST time around, but I'm tempted to do more of young!Waternoose eventually. Perhaps older though- like when he's definitly darker and not so innocent, and perhaps his father shows him what they do to people they need out of the way with a certain metal door. (Boy, I make Henry's dad such a CREEP. I more or less partially think that while the grandfather had less than stellar actions, since after all HE had the door too probably- the DAD kicks things ups a notch, 'bam!', because he thinks his own father lacked 'vision' in a lot of ways regarding the company's and the family's potential.) I kind of like the idea of EITHER the grandfather or father as being just that little bit worse. Although on some level making the Grandfather even worse could make sense too, I like the idea of the father being the darker of the pair, sort of like the idea of the fact the fake enemy IS far worse- and the Waternoose's get worse as time goes on in the generations. Like I could see the FIRST Waternoose, being one to bark orders and be generally honest in his bad attitude more so than most and when he grew senile especially, the second perhaps being a bit more manipulative, but still drawing awe and fear on some level along with some respect, so while he DOES keep some things under wraps- he still gives employees a hint of his true nature to keep them in line sometimes undernetah all the politeness, and then the PRESENT and third Waternoose who pretends to be friendly.
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Post by pitbulllady on Jan 3, 2010 15:34:42 GMT -5
Well, here's MY contribution. Can't really call this a "drabble", since I believe those are supposed to be limited to just 100 words...or am I getting "drabbles" mixed up with some other form of story-writing? Anyway, I guess this is more of a one-shot.
________________________________________
He hesitated before opening the door to the hospital, just stood there in front of those two large portals before sighing and pushing one of them open, to step inside.
Not a HOSPITAL, he thought. It’s a HOSPICE. There IS a difference.
He hated coming here. It wasn’t that the place wasn’t nice; for the kind of money he was paying them, it had sure better be. It was WHO was inside, the person he was coming to visit, or rather, what that person had become, that gave him pause, caused him to stand briefly outside before entering, because perhaps, that person reminded him a little too much of his own mortality.
Putting on his best face, trying to keep up appearances in spite of what he knew awaiting him in the private room, he walked up to the reception desk. The receptionist looked up at him and smiled; she knew him well from his many visits, but then of course, MOST people knew him, whether they’d ever met him in person or not. When you’re the CEO of the largest utilities corporation in one of the most-populated areas of the country, it’s hard NOT to be recognized, even here, in this little back-water Midwestern town.
“Oh, hiiiigh. How are you doing today? Hope you had a nice trip!” The receptionist-the name tag on her blouse said her name was “Rita”-offered him a greeting. Before he could reply, she continued, “the nurses on duty today tell me that he’s been unusually alert this afternoon, that he’s been talking to them about his family, that he actually seems to remember some names and stuff. Hopefully he’ll still be ‘with it’ when you visit, so he can enjoy it more.”
“Well, that’s good to know. The last time I was here he was kinda in and out, you know…not really knowing where he was and all. I’m not even sure he recognized who I was. And, the time before that, all he did was sleep. He didn’t know I was even there, and I didn’t want to wake him up. Is he…”
The receptionist interrupted, motioning towards the hallway to the left, where the patients’ rooms were, “Oh, you can go on back. I think he’s still awake. I know sometimes they don’t seem to appreciate when the loved ones visit, or they have trouble remembering, but I think it really makes their days a lot brighter just the same. And, it’s so wonderful that you’d bother to travel all this distance just to visit. I’m sure it does mean a lot, even if he doesn’t always show it.”
He smiled, and nodded in agreement, then started down the corridor, towards the room. He never knew, with each visit, what he’d find. That was the odd thing about this disease, this condition, that ravaged the mind and body of the patient he was coming to visit; some days, the patient wouldn’t remember him at all, would have no clue who he was, and other days, it was like that lock was removed from his memory, and he could think and recall with a fair bit of clarity. Sometimes, he could recall the faces of those who came to see him, but he put them in the wrong context, the wrong place or time. Very often, though, there would be no response from him at all. He just slept, unaware of anyone else.
There was no cure for this disease. It robbed its victims of their mental and physical functions, of their most precious thing-their memories. It made total strangers out of their closest loved ones, scrambled the events of the past with those of the present and with those that were pure fantasy, concoctions of a withering mind, as it sapped the body of its strength, little by little, until there was simply nothing more to take. It would sometimes release its grip, temporarily, giving the loved ones and friends a tiny glimmer of hope that perhaps, just maybe, the patient would somehow get better, would beat the odds, but then, it would manifest its hold with greater fury than ever, dashing those faint hopes to the ground. This was why the visitor hated coming here; he hated it when the disease let up, giving him and the others a sense of false hope. He hated it when he could clearly see the toll it was taking on the person he came to visit, hated seeing that word on every sign, on every employee’s badge, on every door, when he came here: Hospice.
A place where people went to die, when there was no hope of recovery.
It wasn’t that he hated the concept of there being such a place. It was the fact that there was a need for it, a need that made itself more urgent to him now, by the simple fact of who was in that room, the room at which he’d now arrived.
Room 14. He didn’t quite know why, but even something about that number bothered him a bit. He paused for a few seconds or so, his hand on the door knob, before quietly turning it, pushing the door open, and stepping inside.
For a moment, it seemed as though the once-massive and powerful figure on the bed was sleeping. It was hard to tell in the semi-dark of the room, kept that way so that the patient could rest as needed. After what seemed an eternity, the visitor softly spoke, not knowing if the person in the bed would hear him, or would be able to respond at that time.
One simple word, “Daddy?”
To his relief, the figure in the bed stirred, turning his head to face the door, the pattern of his breathing changing. At first, the visitor thought that maybe it was a trick of the light that made it look like a rare smile was crossing his father’s features, but the response from the patient left no doubt.
“James! Where have you BEEN, son? Your mama and I have been lookin’ all over for you! Come over here, come sit down, and tell me whatcha been up to!” The gray-haired patient motioned feebly with one hand to a chair next to the head of the bed, his features lighting up with joy at the sight of his son, who felt, for that moment, as though that immense weight had been lifted from his chest. Grinning broadly himself, he sauntered into the room, relieved and glad that he would at least be granted this visit with his father, knowing that this might be the last. At least his father recognized him this time, would be able to talk to him, even if he seemed a bit unclear as to the age of his now-adult son at the moment.
------------------------------------------------------------------- As they talked, as the precious time allowed for visitation whittled away, it became more and more obvious to James that his father’s mind was in the past, and that he saw his son not as an adult, let alone an adult who held such an important position as he did, but as a child. Little things like, “now, hope you’re listening to your mama, ‘cause I sure don’t wanna hear about some shenanigens you’ve been up to from HER” and “so, how’s school? You still bein’ good for your teachers and keepin’ up with your lessons like a good boy, right” gave this fact away. There was no point in trying to argue, or set the matter straight. He knew from experience that doing so would only confuse and upset his father and tarnish this small time they had left together. He simply answered the questions as best as he could, careful not to contradict anything his father said, grateful for their rare time together, knowing that he might not get another chance to sit and just “shoot the bull” like this, ever again.
The minutes ticked by, as they talked, and after some time, James could sense his father growing tired. His voice, already weak, grew softer, words trailing off into whispers, eyelids growing heavier. He knew it would soon be time to leave, to be driven back to the airport, to board that plane back to the city on the east coast, to reassume his duties…and hope for just one more chance to sit and talk with his father, while waiting for the inevitable news, the nature of which made his mouth go dry every time the phone rang, every time his secretary back home paged him to take a call. Watching his father appear to doze off, he quietly stood up from his chair, and leaned over to whisper something in his father’s ear before departing. He was rather surprised when his father reached over and placed his hand on his arm, resting on the bed’s railing, and softly called out to him, “James? Son…”
“Yes, Daddy?”
“Son, I…I…don’t think I’m doin’ so good. I haven’t told your mama this, but I kinda don’t think I’m gonna be around much longer. You know how she is.”
“Daddy, don’t worry…I’m sure you’re gonna be fine. And I’m lookin’ after Mama…”
His father cut him off, his voice growing weaker. “That’s not it, son. I gotta tell you somethin’, somethin’ that ain’t really got nothin’ to do with your mama. Just some advice, somethin’ I wanted to pass onto you. The key to bein’ a good person, James, to livin’ right and makin’ somethin’ of yourself that you can be proud of…”
“OK, Daddy, I’m listening.”
“I know…everybody thinks it’s all about not drinkin’ too much and eatin’ the wrong things and not runnin’ around on your wife or husband, or ‘bout workin’ hard and puttin’ somethin’ away for a rainy day…you know, just in case…but that ain’t it, son.” “Oh, really?” The old fellow’s son responded, curious as to just where this was leading, but receptive to the message nonetheless.
“Nope. Now don’t get me wrong, those are GOOD things to keep in mind, but those ain’t IT. No-sirree, the REAL secret to livin’ right, to bein’ a GOOD and successful man is this…” His already-strained voice trailed off, his eyes closed.
“Is WHAT, Daddy?” The son prompted his father to continue. After a pause, the old fellow took another deep breath, opening his blue eyes, looking straight into his son’s.
“Son, no matter who you are, no matter where you go, there’s always gonna be somebody who opposes you, somebody who…for whatever reasons, wants to stand in your way”.
Boy, don’t I know THAT all too well, the son mused silently.
“BUT, you wanna know the best way to deal with ‘em? “Cause that’s what it’s all about son, how you handle people like that. James, the best way to deal with someone who tries to be your enemy is to make ‘em your friend. Whatever it takes, bring ‘em over to your side, ‘cause once they’re your friend, they ain’t your enemy anymore, right?”
James’ lower jaw dropped open. He felt an icy, unpleasant tingle start from the top of his head beginning to work its way down his torso, as his father’s words sank home, their impact hitting deeper than even his father probably imagined.
There’s no WAY…he doesn’t KNOW, does he? No, there’s no WAY he could know! Hesitantly now, he nervously asked his father, “So, uh…thanks, Daddy. So…that’s it, huh?” He was desperately hoping that the nervousness creeping into his voice, making its pitch a bit higher, didn’t carry to his father, and that he could leave and quietly chalk up this suddenly-uncomfortable topic to coincidence, the pointless ramblings of a shattered, worn-out mind, but he saw his father shake his head, ever so imperceptibly, and open his mouth to continue.
“Not quite. James, I know it’s in our worse nature that whenever somebody does us wrong, we wanna get ‘em back. We wanna hit ‘em back harder than they hit US, am I right? But James, this is what I want you to know…this is what my Daddy taught me, what I want YOU to carry with you, always, if you want to be successful and be a GOOD person. DON’T give in to that…that…want to get somebody back, son, no matter how bad you feel like doin’ that. Remember how I said is the best way to take down an enemy, James…and remember THIS…two wrongs don’t EVER make a right. Never did, never will!”
James felt as though his ribs would no longer expand, no longer allow his lungs to take in oxygen. He had no words, no response for his father’s advice. His mind kept replaying events of another time, another place…he’d never even told his parents the whole truth about those events, yet it seemed as though his dying father had somehow seen inside the son’s memories, seen things that the son wished weren’t there, had almost succeeded in burying. Almost. It took a colossal effort, it seemed, just to take another breath, his father’s words still hammering inside his head.
“You’ll remember that, won’t ya, boy?” The father’s voice now was so faint, so strained, that it was barely audible, even in the small room. The effort of speaking seemed to be sapping the very last reserves of strength that he had, yet he had one last thing to say to his son, “James, you’ve always been a good boy. Tell me you’ll remember what I just told you, and not disappoint me and your mama. You won’t disappoint us, will you…James?”
With the inevitable sting of tears burning behind closed eyelids, voice taut with pent-up emotion, James softly replied, as he gently brushed his hand over his father’s face, “No, Daddy…I’ll try NOT to.”
Finis
pitbulllady
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Post by mentalguru on Jan 3, 2010 15:46:23 GMT -5
That was excellent PBL! Really tugged at my heart strings. Oh dear, yet another way for Sulley to start to feel the guilt huh? Though since I figure in my mind he is dead, I never thought of his dad being the one- but the way you've done this is great and very believeable.
Feel sorry for his parents too, I'm guessing eventually Sulley might come clean to them at least at some point. (Or at least his mum anyway, if his dad isn't going to be around long).
(And I DO think you might be right about drabble length, but I kind of go off in a tangent and write too much sometimes too for that.).
Great piece once again!
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Post by RandallBoggs on Jan 3, 2010 20:12:45 GMT -5
You know, I find it interesting that Henry actually DID seem to be involved in scarering for a time, despite his father already having the CEO position....perhaps it indeed WAS a way of defying his father...
Not bad at all Mental. Personally I'm one to give a chance to everybody, hence why Ran's here,....and grudgingly...I know that nobody is born evil, especially Henry Waternoose. *shakes head* The family was posioned by the originator who in turn did it down the line....it is sad really.... ----------------- *claps* Brilliance Pitbulllady. A perfect example of something Pixar will never do, but is something worthy of greatness. So Sullivan's father has something similiar to Aulshimers (forgive me for not spelling right)? And yet through it, gives sound advice that shatters the failing security Sullivan had coming to see him that day. *shakes head* Perfect...
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Post by RandallBoggs on Jan 3, 2010 20:16:16 GMT -5
Hmm...I might have a drabble...
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Post by pitbulllady on Jan 3, 2010 20:35:10 GMT -5
You know, I find it interesting that Henry actually DID seem to be involved in scarering for a time, despite his father already having the CEO position....perhaps it indeed WAS a way of defying his father... Not bad at all Mental. Personally I'm one to give a chance to everybody, hence why Ran's here,....and grudgingly...I know that nobody is born evil, especially Henry Waternoose. *shakes head* The family was posioned by the originator who in turn did it down the line....it is sad really.... ----------------- *claps* Brilliance Pitbulllady. A perfect example of something Pixar will never do, but is something worthy of greatness. So Sullivan's father has something similiar to Aulshimers (forgive me for not spelling right)? And yet through it, gives sound advice that shatters the failing security Sullivan had coming to see him that day. *shakes head* Perfect... Yes, it was my intent to portray this as the monster equivalent of Alzheimer's, probably the same thing really, although they most likely wouldn't call it that, hence I didn't give the disease a name. I don't know if any of you have ever had to deal with the effects of this disease in a loved one, but that is how it behaves; they have "good days" and "bad days". They get things all scrambled up, between what happened 30, 50 years ago, and what happened five minutes ago. They will totally forget who you are one day, remember you clearly and lucidly the next, and get you mixed up with someone else they knew or still know the next. They'll have days where they seem perfectly normal, and days where they can't even speak coherently. The normal days are the worst, since those are the ones that, as I stated, make you think, "oh, they're getting over this, they'll be alright after all". I wanted to convey that, along with the shock that Sulley feels when his father, in what is probably his last intelligible words to his son, says something that just brings everything back again, dredging up that one thing that Sulley wishes HE could forget. I'm planning a second one-shot, inspired by something that Lizardgirl said earlier today, and by a Country song that is really popular right now. I have to get back to work tomorrow, though, and my Principal just called and said that we're supposed to have a meeting at the High School tomorrow(it's a teacher inservice day, which means meetings probably all day long), so I don't know when I'll be able to get to it. I'm still hashing out the details in my head, but it will at least involve Randall. pitbulllady
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Post by RandallBoggs on Jan 3, 2010 20:40:06 GMT -5
Actually my grandmother has something similiar, though was mainly brought on due to an operation.... But anyway...
Of course another thing, Pitbulllady, is that Sullivan takes it as a "sign". An irionic interpretation perhaps, but irony runs in for all of them.
Sucks that you have such a meeting...*laughs* Ran always said he seemed to get along with his teachers more than students heh heh...why'd I say that? Maybe to make ya feel better ^_^
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Post by pitbulllady on Jan 3, 2010 20:47:38 GMT -5
Actually my grandmother has something similiar, though was mainly brought on due to an operation.... But anyway... Of course another thing, Pitbulllady, is that Sullivan takes it as a "sign". An irionic interpretation perhaps, but irony runs in for all of them. Sucks that you have such a meeting...*laughs* Ran always said he seemed to get along with his teachers more than students heh heh...why'd I say that? Maybe to make ya feel better ^_^ Seriously. I'd rather be teaching in my classroom than sitting in some &^%$ meeting any time! It's probably going to be some "workshop" type meeting, where the District(who can't afford to pay us teachers so they have had to drastically cut our pay or fire people)has paid thousands of dollars to bring in some "expert" to tell us how to do our jobs and "motivate" us. pitbulllady
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