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    YOU Are the Arch Nemesis

    Categories: Creative Writing Prompts Tags: creative writing exercises, creative writing prompts, writing prompt.

    A movie hero steps out of your television and proclaims that you are his/her arch-nemesis. Write about what happens.

    Post your response (500 words or fewer) in the comments below.

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    65 Responses to YOU Are the Arch Nemesis

    1. Scorpio says:

      “So I’m sitting at home, flipping through channels, looking for a good infomercial. I like infomercials; they show me exactly how pathetic you all have gotten since the last time I visited. It also makes me laugh to see the celebrity fake smile and sweat under the studio lights like the dried out road kill frog he is. As I’m clicking through the channels, a tiny little man starts shouting at me. I keep changing the channel and giggle as he tries to keep up. He fell off a cliff, knocked over Paula Dean, and took one of Rocky’s body blows before he gets wise and starts climbing through the TV.”
      “Mphm rpgh mumffph”
      “Ya, I know right. Heehehaha” I gave the mayor’s sac a quick kick, “He had some talent going from an electromagnetic abstraction to the physical plane like that. He tripped on my entertainment center (milk crate) coming out though. I gave him time to compose himself. His little speech was unoriginal and over-rehearsed. I think his name was Digital Dan or some other goofy garbage.”
      “Eek! Eek! Eek!” Ms. Robyn must have finally spotted my midget mounted, giant spiders. I reached over and snatched her pink pillbox hat and tried it on. Nice. Fit. Note to self. Steal Hat.
      “Where was I? Oh yes. I began to give my welcome to hell on earth speech and shot him in the gut. Then I kicked him in my pit of mutated piglet preschoolers. It was a gas.”
      —————-
      Remember kids, you can’t spell nemesis without emesis. That, and I hate you.

    2. Scorpio says:

      “So I’m sitting at home, flipping through channels, looking for a good infomercial. I like infomercials; they show me exactly how pathetic you all have gotten since the last time I visited. It also makes me laugh to see the celebrity fake smile and sweat under the studio lights like the dried out road kill frog he is. As I’m clicking through the channels, a tiny little man starts shouting at me. I keep changing the channel and giggle as he tries to keep up. He fell off a cliff, knocked over Paula Dean, and took one of Rocky’s body blows before he gets wise and starts climbing through the TV.”
      “Mphm rpgh mumffph”
      “Ya, I know right. Heehehaha” I gave the mayor’s sac a quick kick, “He had some talent going from an electromagnetic abstraction to the physical plane like that. He tripped on my entertainment center (milk crate) coming out though. I gave him time to compose himself. His little speech was unoriginal and over-rehearsed. I think his name was Digital Dan or some other goofy garbage.”
      “Eek! Eek! Eek!” Ms. Robyn must have finally spotted my midget mounted, giant spiders. I reached over and snatched her pink pillbox hat and tried it on. Nice. Fit. Note to self. Steal Hat.
      “Where was I? Oh yes. I began to give my welcome to hell on earth speech and shot him in the gut. Then I kicked him in my pit of mutated piglet preschoolers. It was a gas.”
      ————–
      Remember kids, you can’t spell nemesis without emesis. That, and I hate you.

    3. Scorpio says:

      “So I’m sitting at home, flipping through channels, looking for a good infomercial. I like infomercials; they show me exactly how pathetic you all have gotten since the last time I visited. It also makes me laugh to see the celebrity fake smile and sweat under the studio lights like the dried out road kill frog he is. As I’m clicking through the channels, a tiny little man starts shouting at me. I keep changing the channel and giggle as he tries to keep up. He fell off a cliff, knocked over Paula Dean, and took one of Rocky’s body blows before he gets wise and starts climbing through the TV.”
      “Mphm rpgh mumffph”
      “Ya, I know right. Heehehaha” I gave the mayor’s sac a quick kick, “He had some talent going from an electromagnetic abstraction to the physical plane like that. He tripped on my entertainment center (milk crate) coming out though. I gave him time to compose himself. His little speech was unoriginal and over-rehearsed. I think his name was Digital Dan or something goofy garbage.”
      “Eek! Eek! Eek!” Ms. Robyn must have finally spotted my midget mounted, giant spiders. I reached over and snatched her pink pillbox hat and tried it on. Nice. Fit. Note to self. Steal Hat.
      “Where was I? Oh yes. I began to give my welcome to hell on earth speech and shot him in the gut. Then I kicked him in my pit of mutated piglet preschoolers. It was a gas.”
      ———-
      Remeber kids, you can’t spell nemesis without emesis. That and I hate you.

    4. Jammersam says:

      If it had to be anyone, let it not be him!

      It was strange enough that he came right out of the television. Strange enough that the leg stepped right through the screen and set foot upon the floor of my living room. Strange enough that the smells from the movie – gunsmoke, acrid sulphur, the stench of manure – came wafting right through the television and into the air.

      Not him!

      Strangest of all was that he wasn’t really quite there. He was, I could tell. My mind didn’t believe it, but all my senses were registering this new presence in the room. But the light was all wrong. At midday, there’s no direct light in the living room. But he was still lit from above, his wide-brimmed hat brushed withe silver noon sun. I could make out the bright, individual fibres of wool on the shoulders of his poncho.

      Anyone but him!

      He took a step or two, keeping his eyes fixed on me. Those piercing eyes, like no other in the world. Those crowfeet at the edge. The thin mouth, clamped around the butt of a cigar. Ashes sprinkled to the floor. Ker-clomp – jingle – ker-clomp – jingle… the spurs serving no purpose in the world I live in.

      God, anyone but him!

      I find myself cursing my Sunday afternoon movie choice. As if it was my fault! But the mind searches for the easiest thing to blame… and it’s always easier to blame yourself. Why couldn’t I have picked up My Cousin Vinny? Or – or… The Royal Tennenbaums? Owen Wilson would’ve been a much more manageable encounter. Especially now that I see him, this apparition, this suddenly-real-ghost reach for his sidearm. He unclips the leather holster, that noon light still shining down from the ceiling upon him alone. Spotlight on a stage.

      Damn– anyone, anyone at all, but him!

      I didn’t have a revolver like his, of course. Even if I did, I know what he’s got on under the poncho: that damned stove lid! A bullet would bounce right off him. But I’ve got my sword, perched up high on the shelf. My grandfather’s silver, and purely ceremonial, sabre.

      Slowly, I reach to take it from the shelf.

      “I wouldn’t do that”

      I stop. “Will you shoot anyway?”

      “That depends. I am here to kill ya, after all.”

      “Shouldn’t this be fair?”

      He shrugs, takes his cigar out with the hand not holding the holster, flicks it, and says, “Go ahead.”

      I grab the sabre and pull it free from its leather scabbard. What a waste. It doesn’t even have a sharp edge, let alone a point. I extend it forward.

      “Do you fence?”

      “Not really.”

      “Is that a yes, or no?”

      “I guess neither. Are you ready?”

      “As I’ll ever be.”

      On cue, and to my delight, the brass of Ennio Morriconne fills the room.

    5. akeala1089 says:

      It was cold out today. There was frost on the windows of the cars that were in the grey parking lot, and a white puff with every exhalation as blood-filled, rosy cheeks displayed how they felt about the weather. The students swarmed to the school, a blur of dark hats and coats crowding the door in different heights, housed by different people. I needed to get through. I was going to be late if I didn’t hurry, something these students seemed hell-bent on making impossible.
      I shoved my way through the crowd to the door, my bright blue hat leaving a path of disgruntled teens. They’re going to be late, too, if they don’t hurry. But to me, my needs are more important than theirs.
      I pulled off my hat as I reach the warmth of the indoors, shoving it in my pocket and pulling out my ID and speed-walking past the guards. As I got to the commons I broke into a slight jog, ignoring the clusters of students sitting around talking or packing up for class. The bell rang, a sound that my frantic heart was not happy to hear, and my pace picked up as a maneuvered past the slower, less urgent students. I had to get to my locker, and a minute later I did.
      I put in the wrong combination first, the same as every day, but got it right the second time, much to my relief. I shoved my coat into the locker, picked up my geometry book and slammed the door, slinging my pack onto my back. I jumped, surprised, when I saw a man in tights right next to my locker, reminding me vaguely of a movie I had fallen asleep during last night, but I thought little of it. Maybe the anime club was having a super hero day or something, it wouldn’t be the first time. It didn’t affect me, or it didn’t until he grabbed my forearm, spinning me around to face him as the warning bell went off.
      I was going to be late.
      The thought swirled in my mind as I glared at the teen, spitting something about hats being against the rules and his face shouldn’t be covered before I pulled away from him. I had to get to biology, I couldn’t be late, not again. I shuffled up the flight of stairs, running down the halls then up another flight of stairs.
      “Running away like only my arch-nemesis would,” I turned, just outside of my classroom, to see the dressed up idiot’s gaze fixed on me, his smirk displaying an odd, misplaced arrogance. “You’ll never get away from justice.”
      “The only justice I need is not being late to biology,” I muttered, and the bell rang again, queuing me to slip into the classroom and not earn yet another another tardy.

    6. Anise Cassell

      YOU ARE THE ARCH NEMESIS

      The television explodes into a ball of flame. Red flames hid the form in the center. A voice calls out, “Die Red Scarlett! Your days of destruction are at an end.”
      I jump up run in the corner. “Who are you?”
      “ME!” The voice shouts. “You just challenged me to a duel Red Scarlett Lady. My archenemy. I’m here to accept your challenge to destroy my city. Now put up or shut up.”
      Red Scarlett Lady? I think quickly. That is the woman in the movie with the Flaming Man. They fought for the survival of New York in the movie. Whoa he thinks I am his nemesis. Oh this is juicy stuff.
      The Red Scarlett has her own ability to throw flames and blow things up. I look at my hands. Thinking about it suddenly I feel that my hand is growing hot. I stare thinking about it harder and suddenly my whole body is on fire. I’m glowing brighter than the sun. Hotter than the Flaming Man.
      A burst of fire shot from my hands a long arch sent it straight to the Flaming Man. He stayed there above me letting the flames absorb into him. His fiery body glows brightly for a second.
      ” If a that’s the best you got Red then then this will be a short fight. You can do better than that.”
      He floats above the ground because the flames of his body have made him lighter rather than heavier. Thinking harder I can feel the flames surround my body. White and yellow fire lifts me off the floor. It feels incredible. I’m exhilarated. I suddenly break through the roof of my house soaring high into the night sky streaking across the moon.
      Full moons are often blamed for the most impossible things. Turning me into an archenemy of someone as popular as the Flaming Man. Wow that has got to be an all-new one. The power of the flames I feel bursting from my fingers. I aim my hands at the buildings below. In seconds they explode into the biggest fireball.
      The Flaming Man hovers over the building. His flames strike a water tower below. All the water inside drains down over the fire. It is quickly quenched. He turns towards me. He fly’s faster than a streak of comets tail at me.
      Our bodies collide. We roll several times doing the dance I had only seen in comic books. Our bodies joined as one our powers are equal. Neither of can shoot at the other. His touch is exhilarating.
      “Now Red we are one flesh. This is the benefit of being a comic book character. We can fight to the death or we can do the other-” then our lips lock in a fiery kiss that lights up the night sky for miles in all directions.
      If this is the benefit I will love the prize. The story will continue to its next life.

    7. Tai says:

      I was sitting on my worn brown couch, absently picking at a hole in the couch and watching Xena Warrior Princess. Xena was in the middle of beating up some unkempt vagabond with a scruffy beard and no teeth when she turned and it seemed as if she was staring straight at me. “Weird” I thought, still absently picking at the hole in the couch. At a deadpan run, Xena bounded towards the camera and burst through the television screen, ignoring the shattering glass around here. I stared dumbfounded for a moment; fingers paused on a piece of string from the couch. She marched up to me and backhanded me on my right cheek, blood splattering on the opposite wall as I crumpled four feet away on the floor. “I’ve been looking for you; I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to see your miserable little face. Today we settle this, you will die!” With a battle cry she came running towards me once again, this time I fled. I skidded across my living room as she leapt over my coffee table with ease. “Listen, I think you’ve got me confused with someone else!” I gasp desperately, the taste of blood fresh in my mouth. “I’d never forget your face or the misery you brought upon me you wretch!” she growled, her lips twisting into a fierce grin, eager for vengeance. Quick as I could, I grabbed my floor lamp and tried to use it as a lion tamer would on an especially fierce opponent. She batted it out of my hands as if it were no more than a newspaper. Screaming I ran through my kitchen and out my apartment door, “Help, help! Please someone help me! Xena the Warrior Princess is trying to kill me!” I yelled, frantically pounding on my neighbor’s door. My neighbor looked out her window and shook her head at me, “I ain’t getting involved in nothing lady, you crazy folks watching TV all day long, rottin’ your minds you fools! I hear you yell some crazy nonsense one more time and I’m callin’ the cops on you!” she said, the glass muffling her voice. “Please call the cops!” I choked as Xena grabbed me from behind and body slammed me on the concrete walkway. “I’m not going to make this fast, you daughter of a goat!” she said with pleasure, her face inches from mine. “Jesus, you smell like shit!’ I said, gagging at the scent of manure, sweat and un-brushed teeth. “Think you’re funny!” she said as she drove an elbow into my gut. I winced in pain and struggled to stand up. A white wooden chair splintered over her head, a momentary look of confusion crossed her face, and the chair came back once again. Her body went lifeless, crushing my breath from me. “Huh, guess you weren’t lyin’ after all.” said my neighbor with a raised eyebrow. “Cops’ll be here in a minute, I don’t know what you gon’ tell them bout your weirdo friend.”

    8. MGH1979 says:

      I know that the government spies on people, creates zombies, and experiments with new electronic equipment for their own personal gain…so they must have been responsible for what happened at my house on Halloween night, right? Maybe they did it to start ‘The Avengers’ initiative, to have their own Hulk…I wasn’t sure.
      The only thing I cared about was how very glad that I was watching ‘The Green Hornet’ starring Seth Rogan as Britt Reid and Jay Chou as his sidekick Kato, and not Friday The 13th:A nightmare on Elm Street.
      I was also very thankful when it was only Britt Reid who stepped through my TV and not Kato, that guy packs a wallop. Unfortunately my small apartment is only 500 square feet, which left me literally no where to go when he confronted me with his ‘knock out’ gun (yes the same gun they used on each other putting them to sleep for days).
      I knocked my bowl of popcorn off my lap and quickly stood up putting my hands above my head to show him I wasn’t armed. He kept yelling something about me being his arch nemesis…I’m not exactly sure because all I could focus on was the barrel of the weapon shoved in my face.
      “Look, I’m not going to hurt you and I’m definitely not your arch nemesis. Why don’t you put that down and we can talk about this?”
      He seemed like a rational enough sort of fellow…or so I was hoping.
      He refused to stop pointing the weapon at me but seemed to calm down enough to ask me a question, “District Attorney Scanlon put you up to this didn’t he? Or wait, maybe I drank too much for breakfast this morning? Have you seen Kato, a short guy…about this high?”
      He waved the gun around and held it up to his shoulder to prove his point.
      “There’s no one by that name, look around…you’re in my small apartment in Boston. I hate to tell you this…but you’re an actor from a fictional movie.”
      I grabbed the empty DVD cover from off of the coffee table to prove my point. Unfortunately for me, he thought I was going for a weapon. The last thing I remember seeing is my door being broken down by some camouflage military men who grabbed Seth Rogan’s doppelganger, forcing him out of the door kicking and screaming. On a side note, I did have a wonderful three day nap.

    9. Lando says:

      When I was a kid I loved the Terminator. It was why I decided to write reviews. So when I was asked to write a review on the new Terminator 3 I jumped at the opportunity. Unfortunately the film was awful, just bad. The only thing I could concentrate on while watching was my internal debate on if I would sleep with Claire Danes if I got the chance.

      I’ll never forget that night. I came home from the showing and sat down to write my review. It was to be filled with words such as unfulfilled and boring. I turned the television on and to my surprise Terminator 2 was on.

      “That new load of junk may ruin this franchise” I said aloud.

      Just then there was an explosion to the left of me. I was knocked down and tried to stand up as I looked to see what happened.

      “You” I heard.

      I looked up to see the Terminator staring at me through the screen. I rubbed my eyes. I thought I must have hit my head too hard. I wish that had been the case.

      “I must stop you” the Terminator said still staring.

      Then the unthinkable happened, that massive Austrian bastard stepped out of the screen.

      I was running before I realized it. I ran down the steps and out the door. I could hear screaming so I kept going until I realized the screaming was me. When I had gone a safe distance I stopped to catch my breath.

      “Pull your shit together” I told myself, “you’re just having a nervous breakdown that’s all”.

      Then I heard the screeching of tires and looked up just in time to jump out of the way of the headlights coming straight for me. There was a loud crash next to me. Before I could get up the Terminator was above me. He grabbed my throat and lifted me off the ground. The crash had ripped the skin off the right side of his face and that mechanical red eye stared into my soul.

      “This is it” I thought to myself, preparing for the worst.

      The machine grabbed something. I closed my eyes and tried not to think of a gun in my face. However, I didn’t hear a shot. Maybe I was dead. I opened my eyes and to my relief I saw papers in the hands of the Terminator.

      “John Connor must live. Your poor review will be a catalyst for movie goers and will terminate John Connor’s franchise. This is the review you will turn in. Many will see the movie, many will be disappointed, but John Connor will live on”.

      I love my professional integrity, but I love living more, so I gladly agreed.

      Nine years, a television show, and a fourth movie later, I continue to be the Terminator franchise’s biggest advocate because I will never forget what he said before he left.

      “Don’t forget, or I’ll be back”.

    10. WV Jim says:

      Sports…sports…news…infomercial…sitcom…drama…another infomercial…

      If working a television remote was an Olympic sport, I’d win the gold, silver and bronze. One hundred and fifty eight channels in thirty seconds, and I can tell you what is on each channel.

      And if I were using my right hand, I’d do the same scan in twenty seconds or less. But this time my right hand was busy holding cheese. Not just normal cheese, mind you, but a platter of delight…cheddar, gouda, bleu and mozzarella, with crackers and a cold beer.

      Ah, paradise.

      Two more times through the one hundred and fifty eight channel trough, and I decided to narrow my choices. Movies. I’ll go through the three dozen movie channels and find something worth watching; at least until I get up and refill my cheese platter.

      Black and white. That’s it! An old black and white movie. What’s this? A cartoon movie? Wait…it’s Mighty Mouse! I remember Mighty Mouse. He was a cartoon show back when I was a kid. I remember this movie! Mighty Mouse versus the Mummy. Excellent.

      I put down the remote, pick up my beer (left handed…now that’s talent), a piece of cheese in my right, and lay back in my recliner.

      But suddenly, something changes. This is the part of the movie where Mighty Mouse and the Mummy fight for the hand of Pearl Pureheart, the fair maiden. But why aren’t they fighting? The mummy is looking at Mighty Mouse, but our hero isn’t looking at the villain. He’s looking at…at me!!!

      My god, he’s walking towards me.

      “You!” he yells, pointing a cartoon gloved finger in my direction.

      This is all just a dream, I reason. He isn’t looking at me…

      “Put that down!” he yells again, as one cartooned foot suddenly hits the carpet in front of me.

      Then one four fingered gloved hand grabs the side of my television, and then the other, and there stands Mighty Mouse! In my living room!

      “Put that down!” he yells again, and I look at my beer.

      “Beer? You want my beer?” I should have known better.

      “No!” And he steps towards me, all three feet of him. But sitting down, we’re eye to eye. He doesn’t want my beer, so I take a sip, all the while keeping an eye on the cartooned caped crusader. And as I reach down and pick up another piece of gouda, his little black eyes turn red, and I suddenly realize what he wants.

      “You want my cheese?” and I offer him the gouda. But apparently this wasn’t enough.

      One four fingered hand reaches out and grabs me by the throat, the other grabs the tray from the arm of my recliner.

      And he turns, heading for the television.

      But just before striking his familiar pose, arm upraised, fists clenched, cape flapping in the air behind him, he turns and looks at me, and yells…

      “Here I come to save the cheese.”

      And he was gone.

      And so was my cheese.

    11. Randhellion says:

      Darth Vador stepped out of the TV lightsaber first. Then came an “AAAhhhh.” I wasn’t surprised. I picked up a remote control, took out the batteries, smashed them against a bug zapper and put them back inside of the remote. Whaddya know, I had a light saber in my hands.

      “Randall, I am a ficticious character from the past and I am horny beyond belief. I know you like turtles, do you want to play turtle dance?”

      What a question by the worlds most feared suse=chef. “Of course,” said I. “I cannot think of a better way to prove my balls than to play turtle dance.”

      Light spat across the room. The curtains caught in fire. I was in my underwear so the heat did bother me. Darth jumped on the sofa, his cape knocking over the fine lamp in the corner table. I screamed, because that lamp was a family heirloom and I had broken it before. I slapped Darth across the mouth peice and he Ahhed and swiped his light saber at my pokie sticking out. I dodged him like a moth dodges the darkness. I swiped my own light saber at his ankle. Darthy kicked and severed his leg off and blood slapped up against my chest. I growled and stabbed the light saber though the couch and feathers went up everywhere. Darthvadorious hobbled into the kitchen. I live in a single wide camper trailer, so this was merely a few steps, anyway, I jumped on his cape tail, and he fell backwards and hit the card table up in the air. My weed went everywhere. The light saber caught some of it mid air and immediately the whole cabin was filled with sweet weed smoke.

      we coughed. Then the coughs turned into laughter. Then we ended up just smoking the rest of the bud.

      “You know. I never thought about it, but this lightsaber could be a pretty good vaporizer, if you could get it tuned in just right.”

      “Yeah..” coughed Darth. “Damn, wish I had some beer. Oh wait…” he ahhed really hard just then, then a six pack of bud light crashed in through the window and landed on the table. We high fived, and Darth reached over and cut off my hand.

      “Sorry, just habit.”

    12. JR MacBeth says:

      EVERYONE WALKS

      “Disabled veteran.”

      “Yes, I see that. We’ll be in touch.”

      Another day. Jobless, hobbling around, begging for a crumb to fall my way. What a fucking life!

      As usual, I waited for noon before cracking open my first beer. Wasn’t so long ago she sat next to me on this couch. We would watch TV together, and then hit the sheets. But that was then…

      “The Ten Commandments…I always loved this one.” Yeah, I talk to myself these days.

      If all went well, I’d pass out for a few hours before dinner. Maybe I’ll dream…

      “Lieutenant Graham! Attention!”

      “Yes sir! What the…?”

      “A few more like you, and all my hard work will be ruined. John, you have made yourself my enemy. My nemesis.”

      “God? Seriously? Is that you?” I looked down at the empty beer bottles. Confusion, but it was coming back to me. This guy with a big beard? Charlton Heston?

      “So, this is it, I’m losing my fucking mind now.”

      “Shame on you for disrespecting your Lord and your God with your vile language!”

      “Uh…Lord?”

      “You drag yourself around, feeling so sorry for yourself. You tell anyone who will listen what a jerk I must be, for making such a world, where people suffer so…”

      “Yeah, I do that! I’m a fucking walking, er, limping fucking billboard for what a jerk you are!”

      “Shut your face!”

      “Fuck you!”

      “I should just terminate your worthless ass right now, but if I did that, it would be as if I admitted making a mistake in the first place. By creating you!”

      “Calm down ‘Lord’! Oh, and I’ve got news for you, you make a LOT of mistakes, not just me. Your whole fucking universe is a joke!”

      “You little prick! What the hell do you know anyway?”

      “I know that you’re omnipotent, and omniscient, but somehow can’t manage to stop bad shit from happening. Oh wait! But you CAN stop it, but you don’t, therefore you’re a big fucking jerk!”

      “You know nothing of my plans. Nothing of what it takes.”

      “Takes? Holy shit, you really don’t sound so omniscient.”

      “John, I want you to change. You must stop spewing your venom upon everyone you meet. You turn good people against me everyday!”

      “Really? People listen to me?”

      “They don’t just listen, they look at you, and somehow your ugly message gets across, loud and clear. But what about the inconvenient fact that it’s just not true? What a horrible slander against your creator!”

      “Stop this bullshit! Fix my legs. And the rest of it too! Do it. Do it now, and I’ll tell the world, I swear!”

      “No John. Your suffering is necessary. You would not grow otherwise.”

      “Then we’re done.”

      ———————————-

      “Anyway doctor, that’s what happened. Like I said, increase my meds.”

      “No John. If I did that, you will not grow otherwise.”

      “Huh?”

      “Open your eyes now.”

      “What the…? My legs? My legs!”

      “You like?”

      “Holy shit! I can walk!”

      “Yes you can. Up here, everyone walks. Let me show you around.”

    13. slayerdan says:

      So I have noticed a marked decrease in posts from people here, a few regulars especially. Any other regulars have any thoughts as to why?

    14. Grahamweld says:

      “I am…The law!” Sylvester Stallone proclaimed in his Judge Dredd uniform to the rioters above him in the buildings as they shot wildly into the street. My friend and I love watching this movie. It’s one part ridiculous and one part awesome. We decided to chill on the couch and watch it while it stormed outside. The action barely began before lightning knocked the power out. We groaned when the lights went off but the came back on a moment later along with the TV. The movie seemed to still be going but something was wrong. Dredd was staring at the camera, like he was staring at us. We looked at each other. This didn’t happen in the movie.
      “I said,” he climbed out of the TV screen, stepping onto the carpet. He pointed his Lawgiver at us.
      “I am…The law! Now face judgement for your crimes.” My friend and I flew off the couch as Dredd blew it up with a single shot. We scrambled for the kitchen, hiding behind the counter. Dredd continued to shoot at us, blasting glasses and food above us.
      My friend yelled to Dredd, “We’re innocent! We’ve done nothing wrong!”
      “You may be innocent in your mother’s eyes, but in the law’s eyes you’re guilty! Face your judgement like men.”
      “Dude, that was a nice line,” I admitted.
      “Shut up!” My friend replied.
      “What do we do?” We had to think quickly. My friend looked at me and stood up slowly from behind the counter.
      “We surrender,” he said as he put his hands up in the air. I stood as well. Dredd kept his gun on us as he gestured us to come to him. We stepped out of the kitchen and walked over.
      Dredd spoke, “You are charged guilty of your crimes. I sentence you to death.” He readied to pull the trigger. My friend kicked him in the gut, making Dredd miss, shooting the living room wall. I jumped forward and ripped the Lawgiver out of his hand. I rolled behind him.
      My friend yelled, “You idiot, that gun only works for him!”
      The Lawgiver informed me, “UNAUTHORIZED USER. SELF-DESTRUCT INITIATED.”
      “I’m about to turn this Lawgiver…Into a Lawkiller.” I threw the Lawgiver at Dredd and dropped to the ground, as did my friend. Before Dredd could do anything the gun exploded right in front of him. The rumble of the explosion shook the whole house. I peeked through my fingers at the shambled remains of the living room. Dredd’s body laid on the ground, his chest ripped open from the blast. My friend walked over to me rubbing dust off his shirt.
      “…Turn the Lawgiver into a Lawkiller…Really? That’s what you said?”
      “Well what would you have come up with?” I asked back.
      He shook his head looking at Dredd. I didn’t think we’d watch that movie anymore.

    15. Kayla Wade says:

      The meteorologist had been right. It was raining cats and dogs out there. The tumultuous wind berated the trees in the front yard as the window panes shook from the pressure. It was the perfect evening for a good movie, a plethora of junk food and comfy pajamas. Thor was my movie of choice. I had read mixed reviews but decided that I would take the plunge and formulate my own opinions. I had just gotten to the part in the movie where he walks into the room in nothing but a pair of black Levi jeans, totally shirtless. There was a deafening clap of thunder that shook the entire house and knocked out the electricity. Perfect. As I frantically searched for a flashlight, I heard a shuffle near the curtains. I finally located my only source of light and began lighting the candles lined even space apart on the mantle. Upon lighting the last candle, I noticed a shadow. I hesitantly turned to find Thor, still shirtless, standing in the corner of my entertainment room; hammer in hand, a look of utter hatred on his face. This was impossible. How could a fictional character be physically standing in my entertainment room? I panicked under his loathsome glare and reached for the fireplace poker. Before I could get a firm grip on it, Thor ripped it from my hands. The heat exuding from his bare chest was intense. I backed away slowly. He matched my every two steps with his one.
      “Who are you? How did you get here?” I fumbled.
      “I am Thor, mighty warrior of Asgard. And you, are my arch nemesis,” he replied, the disdain in his voice matching the look that had been on his face.
      “Okay, let’s talk through this. I’m a girl and I’ve never been an arch nemesis of anyone. Not even in high school.”
      “I will destroy you witch, with the mighty power of my hammer!”
      “You will do no such thing! Now, if you’ll please put down that overly intimidating mallet, I’ll make us a nice cup of hot tea and we can talk things over,” I said in as pleasant a tone as I could muster.
      With my feet feeling like lead, I backed away and went to the kitchen to start the kettle before realizing that the electricity was still shot and that there was no way that I was going to be able to produce anything resembling a hot tea. I settled for a box of Twinkies and a bottle of whiskey. A peace offering if ever there was one.
      Amongst candlelight, I convinced Thor to give up on his arch nemesis theory. We indulged in the snacks abounding us and talked of his homeland. We laughed vivaciously. The lights flickered and then came back on fully. Thor was gone. The movie resumed. As I watched the scene, I could’ve sworn that there was a moment when he looked out of the television at me and winked.

    16. Damadar says:

      Captain America Plays Chess

      I was sitting on my couch when the lights dimmed and my TV exploded. I mean, it really exploded. That doesn’t really happen. New TV’s don’t have anything in them that could explode, but that’s what happened while I was watching Captain America.
      “You, James Cordrey, are my arch nemesis!”
      That’s right. Steve Rogers jumped out of my exploded TV and called me his Arch Nemesis. Me, James, the guy who sits at home and watches TV instead of going out and causing crime. I somehow managed to piss off a fictional character so much that he leapt out of my TV and shouted at me.
      Whatever, though. You know what? I wasn’t gonna let some two dimensional crying bitch blow my TV up and tell me what was going down. So I hopped up off my couch and grabbed the nearest lamp.
      “You fell right into my trap Steve Rogers. You crafty son of a gun, I thought you were going to avoid it, but you walked right into it with your wide eyed gullible sense of justice. You fool!”
      He was off guard now, standing in my rubble-strewn living room with his armored suit and big shield glinting in the tiny fires that somehow weren’t spreading. I think we can blame that on movie magic.
      “Uh, well, this is embarrassing. I wasn’t expecting to walk into a trap,” he said, looking around the living room with an awkward kind of shrug.
      “Yeah, well, luckily for you I’m a forgiving guy. How’s a game of chess sound?”
      He seemed to struggle with the idea of shoving his shield down my throat or taking me up on my offer. I was nervous, but I held my lamp in front of me like a sword, even though it was just a normal lamp.
      Finally, he nodded, and wandered over to the table where a chess board was conveniently set up. He took black, and I thought that was rather nice of him, letting me go first.
      I quickly rethought this decision as he trounced me in fifteen moves.
      “Uh, well. I guess that’s the way the cookie crumbles? No hard feelings?”
      The Captain nodded and shrugged his head over his shoulder. “Next time, though, don’t go to sleep watching my movie, you dick.”
      There was another loud explosion and I was falling off the couch. Steve Rogers was back on my screen, but I swear I saw him wink at me right before decking Red Skull.

    17. hedwigy13 says:

      It was a lazy afternoon, nothing to do, nowhere to go. My son, Johnny, nudged me as I sat on the couch drinking a can of Bud Weiser.
      “Can I watch TV?” he asked, lopsidedly smiling as he wormed onto the couch.
      “Sure,” I said, and turned on the TV. “Let’s see… there’s a game on. You like baseball, Johnny? The Yankees are on,” I said, flipping through the channels. Thank God for ESPN.
      “I want to watch Pokémon!” he said jubilantly.
      “Alright,” I sighed. Pokémon. I hoped we had Advil. That show never failed to give me a migraine. So I flipped to Cartoon Network, and sure enough it was on. Johnny squealed with delight. I rolled my eyes, a gesture whose meaning was lost on my son, and got up to get more beer. Suddenly, something crashed, and Johnny screamed, “Daddy!”
      I raced back into the living room. The TV was on one of those stand-by screens, the ones with the different colored stripes, and my son’s jaw was dropped. He was staring straight behind me, and when I swiveled around to see what it was, I gasped. It was that damn kid from the show. It’s just… he was standing right behind me, his hands on his hips and a pissed-off look spread across his face.
      “You!” he barked. He advanced towards me slowly, and I back away.
      “Look… Ash, I believe, we don’t want any trouble… so just go back into your nice TV home and…” I stuttered. How do you react to a television show character coming to life in your house?
      “That’s Mr. Ketchum to you, Team Rocket!” he roared. It’s a shame, as menacing as he was trying to be, his prepubescent voice made him sound laughably like Justin Beiber.
      “No!” Johnny shouted. “They’re bad guys, and – can I call you Ash – but we’re good guys!” There he goes, rambling on and on. Half the time the kid’s words are incoherent.
      “You have taken my Pokémon, but I will battle you to retrieve it! Haha, you can never defeat me!”
      “What? Battle? How the hell do I do that?” I asked, sounding a lot like my son.
      “GO PIKACHU!” Ash shouts, tossing some stupid-looking ball into the air. A yellow colored monstrous thing materialized out of it. I guess that was the thing he was talking about.
      “Is that a… Peek-a-boo?” I asked slowly, moving backwards towards the living room.
      “Pikachu,” my son corrected me before Ash could.
      “Pikachu, use whatever attack will kill him the quickest!” Ash demanded of the monster, and the beast started after me. It raised its tail, which I quickly noticed resembled a lightning bolt, and shot lightning at me. I swear, real, honest to God lightning. Suddenly there was a ringing in my ears. The thing kept shocking me, and my vision became blurry. I stumbled backwards, and that was it.
      I woke up in the hospital a few hours later. The doctor told me I had too much to drink, informed me that my son was with his mother, my ex, and left. I chuckled. Too much to drink. Well, even though I’d managed to establish myself as an idiot, at least it was all over. I looked to my side, and there was a remote control on the table beside my hospital bed. I picked it up, and flicked on the TV mounted on the wall in front of me. Pokémon was on.

      P.S. I’m sorry it’s a bit long.

    18. ClosetWriter101 says:

      You know you’re lucky when you come home from work and The Bourne Supremacy is on. I threw my day-old Chinese in the microwave, poured myself a glass of Coke and settled into my bed to watch Matt Damon run from the government. Flicking the TV on, I realized I forgot a fork.

      “Where are you?” someone yelled. It sounded like it came from my bedroom.

      I crept down the hallway. Better to be safe than sorry, right? “Where are you?” echoed again.

      I heard footsteps head my way. My breath caught in my throat. Jason Bourne was in my house. His eyes flamed hate, and I instantly reached for the closest weapon I could, which happened to be a ballpoint pen. Didn’t he use one of these in the first movie?

      Bourne thought faster than I did. His gun was already trained on me. “You’re my arch-nemesis,” he declared. “You know something. Who’s running Treadstone?” he asked.

      I had seen the movie. “No one,” I told him. “Go back—everything will make sense in the end. Trust me.”

      “Why should I?” he said. “How do I know you don’t work for them? How did you know what it was?”

      My mouth dropped. Stupid, I chided myself. I had no way out of this. I gripped my pen tighter. “I–” It’s a movie, Bourne. And a book. You’re not real, I could say. And subsequently die. Wait…he wasn’t real. I had my plan. “I’m just like you, Bourne. I work for them,” I said, having a little fun. His finger hovered over the trigger. “Go ahead. Kill me. Lose your only link.” I extended my arms. “Do exactly what you’re running from. Kill.”

      His face darkened, no doubt processing everything. “You’re not scared?” he challenged.

      “You’re not shooting?” I returned. “Look, Jason, man to man here. No matter what you do, you win. Let me live, force me to talk, and you get your info. Kill me, you send a message and put them back on your trail.”

      He muttered something I couldn’t understand. I looked behind him at the twenty-inch. Commercial break, in five. Four. Three. He fired. The bullet was an inch from my chest when it disappeared. I grinned and watched him kill several people from the comfort of my home.

    19. sprattcm says:

      Detective Bowman climbed out of an unmarked Caprice and appeared to shrug his jacket into a more comfortable position and straightened his tie. Confident his sidearm was secure; he sauntered over to Officer Wills.

      “Officer, make this good or make this brief: My curried beef is getting cold and my beer is getting warm.”

      Wills grinned. “You’ll have to settle for good, Bo. Why don’t you come into the lobby and see for yourself?”

      Bowman shrugged and waved Wills ahead, “…damn curry gives me gas anyway I guess.”

      He’d been called to the downtown Marriot. He expected the humidity from the massive water feature in the lobby. He expected the plush furnishings and the soothing instrumental background music. He did not expect to see a man in his early twenties dressed like Tweety-bird.

      “Hey Wills,” he tapped the officer’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me you called me here to referee a mascot’s convention…”
      “Negative, Bo.”

      “Furry orgy gone wrong?”

      Wills smiled broadly, “Just go talk to the canary, see if you can get him to sing.”

      “Aight, I’ll bite.” Bowman walked over to the young man in the Tweety suit. His Bieber bangs were plastered to his forehead with sweat and his eyes were wide and haunted, like he’d seen something he couldn’t have…or maybe something he shouldn’t have.

      “I’m Detective Mike Bowman. How are you doing tonight?”

      “Another cop! Look, you’ve gotta find John! We think he may have been 1-8-7’d!”

      Bowman grinned and shook his head as he pulled a pen and notepad from the breast pocket of his coat. “Son, the force retired radio code three years ago, and I believe anthimeria is a misdemeanor in this precinct so let’s leave nouns nouns, shall we? Now, why do you think your friend has been murdered?”

      “Wile E.’s gonna eat him, if he hasn’t already!”

      “I see. Son are you aware of the criminal penalties for filing a false report?”

      Tweety threw his wings in the air and rolled his eyes.

      “Start talking, and tell it straight from the beginning,” Bowman said firmly. He sighed and thought about his dinner. The kid breathlessly plunged into his story.

      “My friends and grew up on Looney Tunes,” he began.

      Bowman raised an eyebrow in warning, “Son don’t play me for a fool. When I said the beginning…”

      “Just listen and you’ll understand! We came to Tampa for a convention. We were in our room watching the Bugs Bunny show dressed in costume for the show later this evening. A roadrunner episode came on that we’d never seen before. Halfway through, Wile E. Coyote ordered something from ACME. It was a trans-dimensional hole. Normally the roadrunner runs right past stuff like that and the coyote falls for it every time.”

      As he spoke, he’d been looking down at his toes, across the lobby to the shimmering sheet of water cascading dramatically down the face of a stone wall, or even up at the giant crystal chandelier overhead – anything to avoid eye contact. He looked up, straight into Bowman’s eyes.

      “This time was different. When Wile E. Coyote went to place the portal, he tripped and it flew straight at us. The screen went black. I thought Larry had tripped on the power cord again. This is the freaky part,” he paused, “You’re not going to fucking believe me anyway, what’s the use?”

      “Try me. We’ll go from there.”

      “A werewolf climbed out of the screen. Well, we think it was Wile E. Coyote, but it sure as hell looked like a werewolf!”

      Bowman sighed and clicked his pen closed. He returned the pad and pen to his pocket and whistled for Wills. “Officer Wills! Take this fine young man into custody and charge him with filing a false report. I want a tox screen and…”

      “Just go up to our room and see for yourself! John was dressed like the roadrunner. When the coyote climbed out of the screen, everybody started freaking out. The coyote chased john around the room and when John ran past the TV it just …sucked him in!”

      “Fine. Lead the way, Tweety. I warn you, though. You’re courting felony charges right now.”

      The room was a mess of overturned furniture and empty pizza boxes. The TV was indeed playing Looney tunes.

      Detective Bowman turned about expectantly. He was about to direct Tweety out of the room when his phone chimed with a text message. He flipped it out and read: There must always be a Roadrunner. He glanced to the TV screen to see the coyote holding a white sign that said the same. Wile E. Coyote nodded slowly and then turned and trotted off into the sunset.

      • sprattcm says:

        So obviously I went way long I would like to apologize for that. I don’t normally explicitly solicit feedback, but I’m horrible at editing. can anybody tell me what I should have cut before I posted this?

        • Gianni Beau says:

          I enjoyed the story.

          You probably could have cut a lot of description in the beginning. Assume that the reader knows a lot and is able to understand what you are alluding to. Also, you don’t need a lot of description of where you are unless it is necessary to move the story forward. Of course, I could be wrong. I’m sure others will have a better idea of what to cut.

          Give yourself credit for writing the story and the cutting will come in time.

    20. Peter says:

      There was a blur in the air in front of the TV and then … there he was. Impossibly. He looked at me, sitting down in the lounge chair eating from a bowl of peanuts. I saw a look of rage come over him but before I could even budge he grabbed my shirt in the middle of my chest, lifted me out of the chair, face to face. Peanuts everywhere.

      “You! Where is it?” He said.

      “Um. Mr Jones. Can I call you Indi or Indiana?”

      “What are you doing here?” His eyes were close and frightening.

      “No. What are _you_ doing here? Look around.” I said.

      He looked around the lounge room, it was pretty domestic. Not a cave. Not a ruin. No ancient artifacts.

      He reeled. Let me go and stepped back.

      “Where am I? But you, you must be …” He trailed off, starting to doubt his sanity.

      “I don’t know how you got here. You just appeared. Just sit down, I’ll make a cup of tea and we’ll sort it out.” I said trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

      I made some tea and gave it to him. He was sitting in my chair still going over what had happened.

      “I must have been drugged.” He said looking at me for confirmation.

      “No. You just appeared out of nowhere.” I was going to stand firm on this.

      He sipped his tea and started to relax. After the drug had done it’s work I removed the map and called the Boys. He was to be dumped in a particular location, doused with whiskey. He would just think this was a dream. Meanwhile I would take the golden skull, find out where this portal came from, and pursue the map. Not a bad day.

    21. JTRedding says:

      The Blu Ray disk spins around in the PS3 that sits on the dirty carpet sucking in dust. I return to the room with a grape lollipop, my favorite, to witness another Drago Malfoy taunt of Harry Potter.

      “Is it true Potter?” Malfoy starts his taunt.

      “Is what true Malfoy?” Harry seems to respond harshly. I look up from staring at the cute drawings on the wrapper of my lollipop; that line wasn’t in the movie the first 10 times I watched it.

      Malfoy continues on with his taunt, but Harry looks away from him with disgust and jumps out of the screen towards me. My PS3 overheats from too much dust and sputters to its untimely death. I stare in amazement as Harry points his wand at me.

      “I could feel you. I know you’re the evil I must face.”

      I stare at Harry dumbfounded.

      “Are you suggesting that I’m worse than Voldemort?”

      I can barely get You-know-who’s name out before Harry screams, “Expelliarmus!” and zaps the lollipop out of my hands.

      I duck for cover behind the couch. My chest hits the ground first, winding me a bit, but I’m able to get my back against the couch before Harry hits the spot where I had landed with another powerful spell.

      “Hey you didn’t learn that spell for another movie or two!” I yell out to him.

      “What are you talking about, Mendoza?” He starts marching towards where I’m hidden; he knows that he has me. I move around the corner of the couch.

      “Hey, how do you know my name?” I ask him as I look around for anything to use as a wand.

      “You have to know the name of your arch nemesis.” He says confidently.

      I find a drumstick that I had lost a few months ago and snatch it up right as Harry uses Wingardium Leviosa, another spell, to lift the couch high above me. I point the drumstick at Harry and scream at the top of my lungs, “Incarcerous!” ropes appear out of nowhere and wrap around Harry, binding his arms causing the Wingadrium Leviosa spell to be broken. The couch drops to the floor with a crash.
      Harry struggles against the rope, giving himself rope burns, as I use Legilimen to snatch his memories. I take his memories into the kitchen and bottle them; I’ll look at them later when I don’t have to worry about Harry breaking free. I return to the living room.

      “Mobilicorpus!” Harry jumps at the sound of my voice.

      I put him back through the TV and the PS3 whirs back to life. The movie resumes from the Malfoy taunt. Harry is back to normal too. I enter the kitchen to check the memory, wondering why he would think I was his enemy. Before I can access it, an agent from The Department of Magical Law Enforcement appears and arrests me.

      “Off to Azkaban with you.” The agent says coolly as I’m cuffed and hauled off.

    22. catbr says:

      “So, are you going to give Cheswick the dam cigarettes?” There to my amazement, standing in my living room is Jack Nicholson in character as Randall P. MacMurphy from the movie, One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. He looks at me as if I’m supposed to know what he is talking about.

      “What?” I manage to say, stunned. Why is this happening to me? Am I on some sort of a bad drug induced trip? I didn’t take any acid or smoke anything illegal. Maybe that can of cola I drank was laced with something.

      “Don’t play dumb with me nurse Ratchett. You might be able to fool all those other bone heads in here, but you don’t fool me. No sir, not one little bit. Can’t you see that you’re upsetting Cheswick? So, you can stop playing your little game now and hand over the cigarettes.” Jack looks at me through narrowed eyes, visibly getting more annoyed at me. He starts pacing around the living room searching for the cigarettes that I don’t have, ready to smash things to get them.

      “Uh, I’m not nurse Ratchett. I hated that bitch in the movie. Why would anyone even want to be like her.” I look at Jack trying to appear calm and maybe ease the growing tension in the room.

      “Yeah, right. Chessy is about ready to shit himself over the cigarettes. Your heard him. He doesn’t want my cigarettes or your cigarettes, he wants HIS cigarettes. What is your problem anyway? You’re always sitting around as if you care, with that smug look on your face, but all you do is drive everybody more nuts.”

      “Look Mac, I don’t have any cigarettes. I quit smoking over 10 years ago. Don’t you know smoking is bad for you? It’s about time Chessy quit smoking anyway.” It feels sort of weird talking to this obvious hallucination. All of a sudden Jack spins around and starts walking towards me, glaring at me, with his arms stretched out in front of him. He’s going to choke me…I just know it…I can feel it…

      “Mom, wake up. You fell asleep with the tv on again. You were mumbling to yourself.” Relieved that it was only a dream, I reach over and hug my teenaged son.

      “Okay mom. All I did was wake you up.”

      “Thank God it’s you. I really have to stop watching all those late night movies. Some of those old re-run movies can really do a number on you head…do you know what I mean? Let’s go out to the kitchen and get something to eat.”

    23. Gianni Beau says:

      I’m watching my favorite program, “Person of Interest,” when John Reese appears, in the flesh, before me. “You are now our arch nemesis,” he softly says to me.

      “No. John. He is the number that came up.” It’s Harold Finch, Reese’s partner. Now I have two characters in my living room.

      “What is all this… I didn’t do anything… I like you… I am one of your biggest fans.” I’m having a hard time saying any of this. My insides are not working well.

      “I thought he was close with Root.” Reese says to Finch while keeping a keen eye on me.

      “No, John. You misunderstood me when I gave you this assignment. His number just came up. We have to find out why. We don’t know if he is in danger or is a threat to someone else.”

      “But I heard you, in my earphone, say he was connected with Root.”

      Finch eyes went wider still. He stared for a moment, “She’s taped into our phone again. I didn’t say anything about her.”

      I’m listening closely because Reese is scary. He is bigger than he appears on the TV screen and obviously stronger. He turns to me and asks, “So why did your number come up?”

      “I don’t know.” I reply. “Your not real. Your just a TV character.”

      “This doesn’t feel real?” as he puts his hand on my shoulder. It is real.

      “Stop John. We are supposed to be helping him, not threatening him.”

      “Suppose he is the threat. You know that the number doesn’t tell us one way or another.”

      “Yes. You’re right. We will just have to keep him under guard until we find out.” And with that, appears Bear, the Belgian Malinois dog. He doesn’t need to growl or anything. He just sits down in front of me and stares at me in the eye. “We’ll leave Bear to watch over him until we know something more concrete.” With that they turn to leave.

      “No. Don’t leave me here with this dog. I wont be able to move, eat, or go to the bathroom.” I cry after them.

      Finch turns to face me. “Yes. You’re right. I guess we’ll have to leave you to fend for yourself. After all, this is only a TV program and not real. Let’s go, Mr. Reese.” They then turn to leave with the dog still guarding me. I start to yell when Finch yells, “Komen!” and Bear stands and follows Reese and Finch as they disappear back into the television set.

      I am completely soaked and spend the next few minutes in the bathroom trying to recover. Was all that real. The doctor warned me about going off my medication too quickly.

    24. The first time round I had griped and crabbed – cynically sounding off at the cinema screen – having felt cheated by the poorly scripted sequel.

      “The future has not been written,” groused John Connor, the hero from the film ‘Terminator Salvation’. “There is no fate but what we make for ourselves.”

      As I listened to the words this time around, I nodded in mute agreement feeling too inert to do anything much besides reach for another handful of popcorn; only to come up empty.

      While house-sitting for our grandmother, my brother and I borrowed some of her hidden medicinal marijuana, using it to bake ourselves a batch of brownies. As we waited for the ‘medicinal’ effects to kick in, we sat down to watch a Terminator movie marathon.

      “We’re out of popcorn.” My mouth felt dry as I battled to get my tongue to work properly.

      “We should make some more.” My brother Luke dead-panned, and although four years younger than me, seemed like a wizened old man in that moment. More popcorn was a brilliant idea.

      “Sure,” I grunted, rising to my feet. Grabbing the bowl nestled between us, I slid on my slippers and made my way to the kitchen. “I’m gonna make sweet popcorn this time,” I threw over my shoulder, but my statement was met with the TV sound levels increasing.

      “OK fine, salty! Turn the TV down!” I spun around irritated as the sound levels stayed deafeningly high. “I said fine…” I began, before a grey green flash engulfed the room and I staggered back, a hand raised against the shock of light.

      The living room abruptly fell silent. “What the hell? What was that?”. I rapidly blinked away my blurry vision, searching the room for my brother. “Are you alri…” I choked on the remainder of my sentence as I stood in awe, struggling to comprehend the scene in front of me.

      John Connor – or rather Christian Bale in full Terminator Salvation garb – stood in the middle of the living room, with an arm wound around my brother’s neck, his hand covering Luke’s mouth. My brothers eyes were wide with panic as he struggled against the solid arm holding him in place.

      “You’re Christian Bale.” I uttered in a breathless stupor. “Wai.. what are.. what the hell are you doing to my brother?” I took a step forward, but his hardened look made me halt my advance.

      “My name is John Connor.” The man groused out. I barked out a laugh, a sound so surprising in such a surreal moment, even my brother stopped struggling to peer oddly at me with scared eyes.

      I gave the man’s dusty clothes a quick once over. “I don’t know who you are, but that is John Connor.” I jutted a finger indicating the TV, turning to find the film on pause.

      I recognised the scene. It was the one in which John Connor faced down the Kyle Reese, chaining him up in the rebel underground. Except now, there was no John Connor where a John Connor should be.

      “I am John Connor.” The man in front of me repeated, as my shock now gave way to fear. Christian Bale look-alike or not, this man had Luke by the neck and was carrying what I’d only now noticed to be a rifle across his back. “And you are the latest Sky-net upgrade. I have to say…” he peered over my body, his eyes curious. “You act almost human.”

      ——————————————————————————

      Authors Note : Meh, I’m not all that happy with this as it took me ages just to work out which film to write about. The main characters reaction seems a little too relaxed (then again, as they are baked at the time, maybe its just right).

      Also, I wrote this in a bit of a rush as its NaNoWriMo right now and I am focused on trying to get in my daily word count for the novel I’m writing :)

    25. recmac@roadrunner.com says:

      In the semi-darkness of my apartment on Rue de Valore, I watched Philipe du Nord run his fingers through his dark hair. He focused on a figure in a long navy coat hurrying along in the mist and dragging a young girl by her arm down the boardwalk. His deep-set eyes flashed.

      I fingered the remote. They’ll never get away with it. Philippe has seen you.

      Philippe shook his head. “Not on my watch.” His triceps and chest muscles swelled in his tan T-shirt as fury coursed through him. He dropped his head. When he lifted it again, his once-dark eyes had turned flame orange. His neck bulged with throbbing veins. He threw his arms into the air. “Defender!”

      Victoria Seton gasped as she watched the hunk of her dreams transform from a Lausanne veterinarian into Philippe, the Defender. She bit her nails.

      The camera panned in close. Philippe turned and looked into the camera. Sweat poured down his face. He stared straight at Victoria, his look penetrating through the screen. He pointed at her and his lips moved, but no sound came from the TV set.

      She hugged herself. He couldn’t really see her, could he? Victoria envisioned him stepping through the screen, approaching the couch, and holding out his muscular hand to draw her up and to himself. They’d solve this crime together. She closed her eyes. Warm sensations flooded over her.

      Victoria opened her eyes. Philippe crashed through her TV set into the living room. Adrenaline poured through her body and she jumped over the back of the couch ready to run. She looked back at him.

      His face contorted. “Victoria. Stop.”

      She cringed behind the back of the couch. This wasn’t the hero she watched every Thursday evening. What did he want with her? What was she thinking-he couldn’t really be in her apartment, could he?

      The couch flipped over, exposing her to Philippe. He leaned in close. “Bring back the child.”

      Victoria could see his nostrils flaring. Her eyebrows shot up. “Child?”

      “Don’t play games with the Defender. I know you’ve got her. If you don’t give her back now, it won’t go well for you.”

      She shivered and moved away from him. “I don’t have any children. Or child. I am not who you’re looking for.” Am I talking to a movie hero?

      Philippe sneered at her. “You are indeed the one with the girl. It’s undeniable. Where have you hidden her?” He reached out to grab her.

      Her heart thudded in her chest as she scuttled away from him. “I haven’t hidden anyone anywhere. You are making a big mistake.”

      “No.” He shook his head. “There is no mistake. Your hair is wet and you haven’t even removed your coat.” He stepped closer. “Now, for the last time. Where is the girl?”

      Victoria patted her hair. It was damp. She looked down. Indeed, she wore a blue woolen coat. Terror seized Victoria. She jumped up and ran for the door. Philippe grabbed the back of her coat.

      She screamed.

      “Cut. It’s a wrap.”

      Philippe’s grip loosened.

      Victoria looked over her shoulder.

      Philippe shook pieces of plastic off his arms and shoulders. A technician appeared from the kitchen and helped him wipe makeup off his face and remove the muscle-pak from under his shirt.

      A man in a black turtleneck stepped to the middle of the room. “Good job, everyone.” He turned to Victoria and smiled. “Great reaction. Couldn’t have been more realistic. It was as if you didn’t know what was coming next.”

      “I didn’t.” Victoria closed her eyes and slipped to the floor. She mumbled, “You got the wrong person.”

    26. zo-zo says:

      The girl scowled at me, turning her pretty face ugly. She threw her mass of blonde hair behind her and pointed a glittering pink finger at me. She had just jumped from my TV, looking just as gorgeous in my sparse lounge as the silver screen. That pissed me off.

      ‘What the fuck are you on about? You don’t even know my name.’

      ‘I don’t have to know your name,’ she said. ‘In fact, that’s EXACTLY why I hate you! I don’t know your name. You can walk down Sunset Boulevard and no heads turn. I can’t breathe without people wanting my autograph!’

      ‘Poor baby.’

      She took that as encouragement. Falling down on my couch, she started sobbing. ‘It’s not fair. I’m not allowed to have a bad hair day. I’m not allowed to eat Carbonara anymore. Everyone wants to be my friend. Guys call me day and night.’ She paused and wiped a tear away. ‘Especially night.’

      ‘That explains sweet fanny adams about your accusations, bitch.’ She beamed up at me, the picture of fake.

      ‘Oh, you know, it felt good to shout at the time. You’re not really my arch-nemesis, but I do kind of hate you. You’re so… so normal.’

      I started laughing. ‘Normal?’ She was the second person to ever think that. My mother was the first, and she has tried to convince herself ever since I was five. It was normal for a five year old to curse out the neighbour’s cat, and demand her teacher to call her ‘Ms’ and to play hide and seek in the rain.

      She was silent, looking around the room. Her eyes fell on my skull painting and she shuddered.

      ‘You know what I mean,’ she said sulkily. ‘I didn’t know it’d be THIS bad. I mean, people don’t want me to be real.’

      ‘Ok, you want to be real? Go ahead. But be fast – I’ve got a concert in fifteen minutes.’

      ‘OK, great. Hmmmm… I love burping. Like – love it. Of course, I never burp with Scotty around, but my dream is for my husband and I to have burping conversations.’ She lowered her voice and whispered quietly to me. ‘And I hate my fans. I hate how they adore me, it’s really lame. Especially the pretty ones. I hate the pretty blondes.’

      ‘The ones that look like you,’ I said. She ignored me.

      ‘And I’d love to be one of those nature girls. You know, you look like you could be the type – no offense. Like, not wearing any underwear, sleeping in a forest next to a pretty little river. Shopping is so over-rated. I just want to go somewhere where nobody knows me.’

      ‘Bingo! I don’t know who the fuck you are, princess.’

      ‘You WHAT?’ She said, her voice cracked.

      ‘You heard me, don’t know you from Betty. Now cheers, I’m off.’

      She stood up aggressively and screwed her face up. ‘You are a real bitch, playing that game. Of course you know-’

      ‘No time for that, honey.’ I pointed towards the TV. ‘Now hop back into Hollywood, and maybe one day I’ll know your name.’

    27. catbr says:

      Must be a Halloween prank. Have tried 3 times to post a story and have not been able to. Keep getting that irritating message that I am posting too quick. Slow down. It’s time for this site to straighten out this situation. It is getting on my nerves. Hello. Is anyone listening?

      • onaway says:

        Happens all the time. Don’t let it get you down- post even more stuff… + faster. Say “Take that, Internet!”
        I know it’s frustrating but I doubt they have the resources to fix all the bugs… for free.

    28. slayerdan says:

      There are pros and cons to not having cable. The pros of course being one less bill to pay. The cons however do not always balance out. Watching 30 year old movies on the non-cable stations. Those stations love old war movies. And musicals. And love stories. And seemingly every Star Trek movie made.

      Especially the Spanish channel that comes in from about 40 miles south. Flipping channels, Ron had stopped on WBAD Channel 78 to answer the phone. There, in dubbed Spanish, was Star Trek 2: Wrath of Khan. Ricardo Montalban with his beefy pecs. Spock with his pointy ears. Kirk, his horrible acting worsened by a Ricky Ricardo overdub.

      Laughing on the phone, Ron was staring at the screen, readying to begin his channel surfing as he chatted, when Captain Kirk turned away from the others and yelled in a horribly condescending Mexican accent,” ROOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNN”, and jumped through the tv screen, standing in front of a startled Ron.

      Ron dropped the phone. His mouth muttered and stammered as he back crawled up over the back of the couch onto the floor. Peering over the couch, he saw Kirk standing there, one hand on his hip, the other holding a phaser.

      “¿Dónde está el Génesis?”, he asked. Ron continued to stare, not understanding anything but the word Genesis. Kirk had stepped out of the televisión and was still intent on getting Project Genesis back from Khan.

      Now of course, Ron.

      Ron had slowly pointed at the televisión screen behind Kirk and after a few moments, Kirk peered over his shoulder. Seeing himself on the screen, he did a dramatic turn to face it. ”¿Cómo puedo ver allí cuando estoy aquí?”, he asked himself, followed by a quizzical look at Ron as he asked,” ¿Y por qué hablo español?”.

      “No habla”, was all Ron could muster as Kirk was enthralled by what he was watching. Ron climbed back over the couch and sat down, Kirk hesitantly sitting on the chair next to him, phaser now away.

      An hour had passed with Kirk asking several questions that Ron just could’nt answer. Together they watched the movie unfold. As the Enterprise was going through some cloud on the show, Kirk jumped up and yelled,” aye caramba!!”, and pulled a small black box from his belt. He held it up to his mouth and spoke,” This…is…a translator. Can you understand me now?” he asked.

      Ron nodded.

      “Genesis, I need Genesis back,” Kirk followed, understandable now but still sounding like Ricky Ricardo.

      “Have’nt you been watching?”,Ron asked. “Khan has it and has already turned it on”,he followed. Kirk looked at Ron then back at the screen again.

      “I ….have…to go now,” he said in pure Shatnerian glory. He reached out and touched the screen, and with a loud pop along with the smell of sulfur, he was gone.

      Kirk looked back at Ron, and Ron at him as he quickly changed the channel.

      Dracula was on.

      Ron turned the television off.

    29. newworldee says:

      ‘This is some awesome 3D’ or so I thought as I watched the Avengers thriller. But not until the Incredible Hulk character stopped, quirked his lips and gave me a weird look—I didn’t even need 3D glasses to see the Hulk’s massively meaty arm project out the TV screen. Something wasn’t right. Because one moment I could have sworn I was sitting on the couch in the sitting room with my bag of popcorn and the next I felt a gripping hold on my throat with my elfin bollocks careening through the window to my mama’s garden outside the house.
      “What in the world was going on?” I thought-out loud—I know I didn’t eat that much shrooms—those I ate weren’t even the hallucinating kind. And looking up, it was the Incredible Hulk himself, my hero, looming above me—all bulkily green with his eyes as red as the devil’s bollocks—really!
      “My hero!”
      “Smash you. You, Hulk arch-nemesis—Hulk smash!”
      Wait, “Nemesis…?” that didn’t sound right. And I was for certain this wasn’t no fan recognition visit from the Incredible Hulk himself when he growled with his right arm elevated up with a final blow that would surely send me to oblivion…
      “Mamamia! Help meeeee!” I screamed like a little girl leaving no dignity for the gentle-manly-me. Strangely my scream woke me up to a new surrounding—my bedroom…
      No Hulk.
      It was only a nightmare.
      Until today the Hulk is no longer my hero. No, no—that cantankerous wanker tried to whack me in my dream. And I made a resolution to myself that day: to always keep a self-defense object close-by anytime I watch a thriller. You never know, you just never know—dreams do sometimes come true, isn’t that what they say?

    30. handyman43127 says:

      A six-shooter pointed at me I freeze. Rubbing my eye’s I reach for my half cup of coffee and remember the last scene. Only three hours ago I was peering out the window, frozen and my mind vapor-locked, trying to describe the gunfight that would take the life of Matt Dillon.

      The whiskey tasted good, too good, I awoke and found myself lying on the floor. Whiskey sometimes helped and unlocked the thought’s that were trapped inside my mind. Pulling myself up on my knees and at eye level with the computer screen. The end, was the word’s that lighted the screen.

      Staggering to the kitchen I brew a fresh pot of coffee. Cup in hand I relax in my recliner and fumble for the remote. Mute, picture with no sound, that would keep the bell’s from ringing, in my head.

      With the click of the television responding to the remote Matt Dillon materialized in front of me.” I’m taking you in, dead or alive.”

      “What, wait let me adjust the color.” Taking the remote in hand I hit the off button and Matt vanishes. Picking up my cup and taking a small slurp I say out-loud, “this is my story and I get to write the ending.”

    31. Number7 says:

      A movie hero just stepped out of my television and said that I was his arch-nemesis.
      “Yikes! What the heck? What is a menasis, dude?”
      “I said nemesis.”
      “Who are you?”
      “Zorro.”
      “Hey, cool sword, dude. What can you do with it?”
      “Look at your chest.”
      “Hey, man, that’s not cool! You ripped my shirt!”
      “It’s a z.”
      “A z what?”
      “The letter z. Z for Zorro. It’s my signature, and you are my nemesis. I must kill you or the Earth, as we know it, will be destroyed.”
      “I think you’re looking for Darth Vader. He likes to destroy planets.”
      “I do not know this Darth Vader. No, it is you I must kill.”
      “I think you have the wrong number, man. I’m just a regular person.”
      “You don’t know who you are?!”
      “Oh, I’m nothing special, just a regular guy.”
      “You don’t know the power you have, your ability to influence people?!”
      “Oh, like that song, You Don’t Know Your Beautiful. I am pretty good looking, I must admit. But, I don’t see how my looks could destroy the Earth.”
      “I didn’t say you would destroy the Earth! I said the Earth as we know it will be destroyed.”
      “I think you might be looking for Chuck Barris. The game shows he created changed the world.”
      “I never heard of Chuck Barris.”
      “Oh, you must have. They made a movie about him. He was also a CIA assassin. A killer dude, dude. I bet he has a sword. I bet he is your menesis.”
      “Not menesis, it’s mesisis, meh..uh… ner.. Aghhhh! You must be killed before it is too late.”
      “Did you ever try meditation, man? That might help you relax. Help you see people in a more positive way.”
      “Enough of this nonsense. It is time for you to die. Prepare to die!”
      “So this is like TGIF time for me, huh?”
      “What madness is this TGIF. Is that your secret weapon? If it is, it will not stop me. I am on a mission.”
      “Like a mission from God that the Blues Brothers had in that movie about eating chicken on white bread?”
      “What is wrong with you? Aren’t you afraid of me killing you?”
      “Oh, you aren’t going to kill me.”
      “How are you going to stop me?”
      “With this little device in my hand.”
      “What is that? What deviltry is this? Must kill you now!”
      Then Zorro rushed at me with the sword aimed at my heart!
      So, I used the remote and turned off the TV and he was gone.
      I knew I could make a difference in the world. I was 83% sure that I was on the right track. Now, with Zorro’s visit, I am 100% sure.
      Well, time to meditate to develop my abilities to change the world. As Alan Cohen says in I Had It All the Time, “Find your source within, and no entity outside of yourself will ever be able to usurp your power.”
      “Oommmmmmm…… Oommmmmmm…… Oommmmmm……”

    32. I was enjoying the evening by watching Batman race down the street in the Bat-mobile chasing after the henchmen of his enemy. He came to a sudden stop to get out of the mobile. As he stood still, his eyes moved across the screen, stopping at me. My eyes grow in amazement as Batman steps out of my T.V. into my living room.

      “ I’ve searched long and hard to find you, my arch-nemesis, Python.” Batman’s deep rusty voice echoes through out my house as he points at me. He take a step closer to me just as I stand up to face him. My head only coming to about mid-chest on him.

      Now dressed in a form-fitting green dress that shins like snake skin and black tights, I pull down the green masquerade mask over my eyes, giving my face the illusion of being snake like. I tilt my head upwards, my lips close to his.

      “I see you finally figured it out Batman.” My voice soft, the tone of seduction following along. I take a small step back, just enough to give me space as I walk around Batman. The high pitch of my heels filling the space between us. “Too bad you won’t catch me.”

      A hissing sound floats into the room from the darken hallway. Two glistening eyes appear. I flick my hand, causing an over sized tree python to shoot out of the hallway, wrapping it’s self around Batman.

      “He hasn’t ate in a while.” I whisper into Batman’s ear before running into the darken hallway.

      I can hear sounds of struggling coming from the living room as Batman tries to fight of my snake. Just as I reach the door of my house, I hear the cry of my python. A sudden sharp pain erupts through my body, causing me to fall to the ground. I can hear the heavy footsteps of Batman walking down my hallway.

      “Your connected to your snakes. It would only make sense that you can feel their pain too.” Batman reaches down, grabbing a hold my collar, he pulls me up off the ground.

      The heels of my boots scrap the ground barely as batman holds me up. “There’s more from where that came.” A evil grin crosses me face. In a silent like voice, I mimic the language of my snakes.

      Five of them slither out, surrounding us. Batman drops me as he goes to fight off my snakes. Shutting off my connection with them, I run out the front door. I stop at the end of the street, Batman not in sight. I take one last look at my house as I shed my blonde hair to a brunette shade. The shape of my face and body build changes, making me taller with a more slender face. My dress now replaced with dark jeans and an over sized sweater. I throw my mask down on the ground before walking off.

      Lets see if Batman can find me now.

    33. Joshtr says:

      I cheated some. I used a main character from a T.V. Show instead of a movie. Also, I want to give warning that I do use some profanity but not a ton.

      ——

      I’m going to skip passed the how and move forward to the what- or more like the what-the-fuck, I guess. I could attempt an explanation of how the, as of yet, most unreasonable event of my life came to transpire, but I think you might agree it would be pointless. Do not take offense when I say you couldn’t understand the intricacies of cause and effect as they apply here, the math has no place in our linear three-dimensional world. Still, some things which make no sense find ways to just, well, happen. Ice cream can be fried, Sarah Palin continues to escape the looney-bin, and Alf came out of my God-damned T.V. and tried to eat my cat, Friskers.

      “You’ve been a pain in my ass, Arch-nemesis, and It’s going to stop TODAY!” Alf announced as he fell to the floor. The brown fuzzy alien of my childhood had just seconds ago been climbing out of a window, the other side of which was apparently my T.V.

      “No! No no no!” I closed my eyes “I’m not ready to be insane. I never even got to try fried ice cream. I don’t think I’ll be able to appreciate it if I’m insane!”

      Alf looked at me for a moment before shaking his head. “You know, on Melmac a punk like you would bow to me.”

      “You were a gardener!” I was actually arguing with Alf, a fact which didn’t escape my notice. Still, it wouldn’t have made any more sense to NOT argue with him.

      He frowned, furling his long snout somewhat, and gave a low growl. Before he could act, Friskers, my cat, lazily walked into the room with his nose in the air in an obvious attempt to fight off the intruder. Cats are loyal and ferocious defenders of their masters and NOT little bastards that scratch up my brand new couch while I’m out buying copious amounts of meow-mix and balls of yarn to appease the inconsiderate monster.

      Alf licked his… lips? “Do you have a casserole dish?”

      “Why?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

      “Because, that won’t fit in your toaster.” He then looked at me meaningfully, and I at him.

      There may be more than one way to skin a cat, but slow roasted with rosemary and enjoyed with an appropriate wine is the way to go for eating one. Alf was right about that much.

      As we watched an episode of The People’s Court, I handed Alf a beer and opened one for myself. He thanked me and we had a toast to Friskers, who would never destroy my upholstery again.

      “So, what was that about me being a pain in your nemesis?” I asked.

      “Oh yeah, I think I had you confused with George Lucas, Interdimensional TV teleportation leaves you a bit wonky. Has he sold out to Disney here?”

      I laughed. “I know he’s done a lot to his fans but give the guy SOME credit!”

      Alf burped. “Yeah…”

    34. Icabu says:

      Barely thirty minutes into the movie and I’d already figured out who did it and why. What ever happened to complex plots and multidimensional characters? As the seven minute commercial break droned on, I reached for the novel I’d bought earlier, hoping for engaging entertainment.

      When the movie came back on, I admired my wisdom in purchasing the huge, stunningly realistic HDTV. What it lacked in substance, the movie certainly made up in visual acuity. Mesmerized, my book forgotten, I watched as the pathetic protagonist stepped through my television and into my living room.

      I hadn’t realized I’d bought a 3-D TV, I thought as the very realistic man walked over to me.

      “So you think you can do better than the highly-paid, professional screenwriters that worked tirelessly on this script?” he asked with a haughty lilt in his voice.

      Laughing, I answered without thinking about what was happening. “With my pen tied behind my back.” I snorted, remembering watching the actor in an After School Special about losing his virginity when we both were teens. It was difficult to give his anemic characterization of a super-spy credence with that early performance in mind.

      Making a sweeping gesture back to the frozen picture on my TV, he said, “I challenge you to evade, elude, conquer.” His eyes narrowed. “I dare you.”

      I stood, studying the apparition cautiously in my Tweety lounge pants and Sylvester night shirt. I jumped back when he snapped his fingers, looking incredulously at the shimmering, tight red dress and matching spike heels I now wore.

      “There,” he said, “more like a femme fatale antagonist worthy of my pursuits.” He stepped back through my TV, holding his hand out to me.

      Looking around my staid apartment, I shrugged and strode over to take his hand. I’d kind of always had a crush on him since that After School Special anyway. Stepping into the scene, my engaging entertainment began.

      • Joshtr says:

        Just as I was about to post my own story I read this and am just envious of you. :c But why waste time being envious, better to enjoy the read and thank you for it. Thanks! Also, I laughed at Tweety lounge pants and Sylvester night shirt :3.

    35. jenjane says:

      Sunday night. Time to watch my favourite show on the box. Super Nanny appeared on the screen with the single beam of the remote. Sinking back into the couch, I reached for the crisps to begin my debating session with JoJo.
      The screen hissed then blurred with a vapour that filled the room. At first I thought the teli fused out, but as the vapour dispersed a figure appeared. A larger than life figure.
      “That is not appropriate behaviour” an English woman announced as she snatched my crisps from my grasp.
      Blinking to focus on what was really before me, I couldn’t believe it was her in the flesh and a lot of flesh too.
      “Super Nanny!” I stammered
      “Take your feet off the couch and sit up straight” she demanded
      “Where is your mother, we need to establish some rules” she announced
      “I’m a grown up JoJo, my Mum doesn’t live here” I protested
      “It’s obvious you need some discipline, now look me in the eyes” said Super Nanny
      I complied and locked eyes with a face of peaches and cream. Strangely thinking this face needs some sunshine.
      “Now go sit in the Naughty Corner and take time to think about your behaviour” she said.
      I automatically turned and stood in the corner of the room. Then realisation hit me, what was I doing?
      I’m not in TV Land; Super Nanny is a reality TV show, not a reality in my life. With this revelation I turned on my heals to question Super Nanny’s motives.
      The room was empty, Super Nanny had vanished, although I could hear her demanding respect, although I couldn’t see her, the screen was blank.
      “Hello, is that the TV Repair Man! Do you make home visits? Super Nanny broke my TV!”

      • zo-zo says:

        I really enjoyed this – Super Nanny – CLASSIC girl to come and stir things up! One thing is I found the ending wasn’t as strong as the rest, you’d built it up nicely – but overall, really fun!!

    36. Andy Brackett says:

      The last paragraph put me over, but I had so much fun with this one!

      It was 10 a.m. Saturday morning. I was where I always was at this time, on the couch watching television. Creature Double Feature was followed by a Bruce Lee marathon, oh what a glorious day!Bruce Lee was kicking some major butt. He chased the evil drug lord Han through Han’s underground lair. Bruce leapt with a flying side kick aimed at taking down his foe when all of a sudden he came bounding out of my T.V.. and into my living room. I nearly fell over the back of the couch.

      Bruce stood silent for a moment, seemingly taking in his new surroundings and sizing me up. He stared at me intently and finally spoke. “Han, your attempt to deceive me is futile. I don’t know what magic you use to disguise this place, but your evil reign is over. Now you die.”

      I threw my hands up in front of me and pleaded, “ No…no…you don’t understand. I am not who you think I am. I’m not Han!” Bruce took a step towards me and I freaked. I turned and ran down the hallway. As I neared the end I glanced behind me and saw the Master of Kung Fu bearing down on me. It was by sheer luck, if not the Grace of God, that I was able to duck into the bedroom on the right. I dove in and slammed the door shut behind me. What the hell was going on!? I couldn’t believe I was actually running for my life from the one and only Bruce Lee! My mind was reeling, my body was going numb. How was I going to get out of this?

      The door exploded in front of me. Slivers of the hollow core door flew in all directions. He stood before me once more, his arm extended before him slowly wagging his index finger back and forth. I knew I was in trouble now. I shakily rose to my feet. Fear gripped me with its cold grasp. I tried to utter another plea when in an instant Bruce was upon me. “Enough!” He bellowed. “ Before you die, Han, you will show me the path out. Drop this illusion…NOW!”

      I stammered, “B…b…but you don’t understand! I…I…I’m not him!” I twisted sharply, looking for a way out of the room, seeing only the doorway we both had entered through. He was circling around me, he seemed to sense what I was trying to do, when out of nowhere my cat suddenly jumped down from the bureau. This momentary distraction was all I needed, and I darted out the door. I knew he’d be back on me within seconds but I had to get him back into the television. I ran for the living room, sensing impending assault. I dove over the couch and rolled. As I did I saw him fly over me in the same outstretched side kick. He sailed right into the television and disappeared.

      When I gathered my nerves and arose from the floor, I looked at the screen before me. Bruce Lee was standing before his arch nemesis Han, who was impaled on a spear against the wall…dead. I smiled. Then, unplugged the cable from my T.V..

    37. thebaseballman2003 says:

      “You are my arch-nemesis.”
      “I’m your what?”
      “You are my arch-nemesis”
      “Excuse me.”
      “Clean out your damn ears, man. Do I need to go slowly for you? Ok. I…am…your…arch-nemesis.”
      “Okay. Will you excuse me for a second?”
      I stood up and promptly passed out. What the hell did I just see? All I was doing was watching one of my favorite programs until this guy steps out the screen and tells me that I’m his arch-nemesis. I’ve seen some freaky stuff in my life but none of that compares to this. Did I drink or smoke something bad? I take that back. I don’t drink and I damn sure don’t smoke. Was the gas leaking for a good while and now it is just getting to me? I don’t what to think anymore.
      When I came to, I found myself on the couch. Thank you, God. It was all just a dream. I try to get up but realize that I can’t. My hands and feet were bound with some kind of chain. Then I freeze for a moment. I’ve seen this kind of chain before. It’s the same kind of chain that Professor Chaos uses on The Adventures of Dark Man. I recognize the color and shape of them. This is impossible alright. People just don’t step out of television screens and call you their arch-nemesis. If this was a story from Tales from the Other Side, I can understand that but this was pushing it.
      “I see you’re awake. Now I few questions that I want you to answer. Every time you lie to me…”
      “Aaahhhhhhhhhhh! What was that?”
      “Are you referring to my Taser? I like to keep this handy for lets say…close encounters of the what in the hell just happened kind. Now, why have you been watching me?”
      “Watching you? What in the hell are you talking about? Aaaaahhhhhh!”
      “Don’t lie to me again.”
      “I’m not lying…aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!”
      “You don’t know what I’m talking about. Let me jog that piece of shit memory of yours. For the last few weeks, a screen has been appearing in my laboratory with your face on it. I thought I was going insane. Well, even more than usual. One day, I walked up to this screen and touched it. My hand went right through. I didn’t think much of it until I looked on the other side of it. My hand was gone. At that point, I realized that I had stepped into some cross-dimensional rift.”
      “Why didn’t I see it?”
      “From my side, it looked like you were passed out. I decided to study screen and understand it true potential. Then I conducted the ultimate experiment: walking through it. Then the rest is history as they say.”
      “Okay. But one question. Why call me your arch-nemesis?”
      “You are the only person that has ever come that close into my domain and I don’t like it. Now what to do with you?”
      “Oh shit. Someone help me. Please help me.”

    38. ahutch says:

      “Does the 3-D even add anything to this movie?” I whined. My husband, Jake, and I were watching the Smurfs with our new 3-D television. It was a pretty good way to waste a few thousand dollars in my opinion, but to prove that he’d use the T.V., he insisted on buying every 3-D movie in sight. That was an even bigger waste of money, and this useless movie just proves that point.
      “Sh. I’m sure it will get good, just give it some time. Want some popcorn?”
      I rolled my eyes. I was pretty sure that he cared more about his precious T.V. than me. When I looked back at the screen, I saw Papa Smurf staring right at me. I had hated these things since I was little; they were always so creepy. I thought it was much creepier that the Smurf just kept staring at us.
      “Is he supposed to be doing that?”
      “How am I supposed to know? It is strange that he isn’t interacting with the others, though.”
      “You! You’re my arch-nemesis!” A small, but wise-sounding voice could be heard coming from the television. Papa Smurf was still staring at us, but now his expression had changed from joy to sheer rage.
      With a small hop, Papa Smurf seemed to come out of the screen and land on our carpet.
      “Wow! That 3-D is impressive! I take back what I said.” I turned to my husband who just stared in amazement.
      “Why did they waste this technology on this piece of crap?” He was still eating popcorn when our bulldog, Winston, snatched up Papa Smurf and carried him off.
      “Oh God! Let me down! My spine!” The small voice sounded less wise as it was being squeezed out of the little man.
      “Grab him, hurry!” I yelled at Jake while he leapt off the couch toward the dog. He managed to get Winston to drop the Smurf while I turned off the T.V. I had seen this same thing happen in a horror movie before, I wasn’t about to get attacked by some contortionist child.
      “What the Hell? Is this real?” Jake said as he held the limp, elderly Smurf in his hands. Winston was jumping up, barking for a chance to have his way with the little man.
      “How’d you get here?” I asked.
      “You’re my nemesis. I have to teach you lessons about friendship and love or you’ll end the Smurfs.”
      “Nemesis! She’s let herself go, but she’s no Gargamel.”
      “Shut up Jake! What do we do with him now?”
      “We do what the people in the movie should have done. We’ll put him away for now, and tomorrow we’ll call the media. We’ll charge to see him, or sell him to the government! We’re gonna be rich!”
      We shoved the little guy into a jar, poking holes just in case cartoons need to breathe. We stayed up late, making our plans for fame and fortune, after we destroyed our T.V. of course.

    39. FizzyL25 says:

      After a long, tiring day of studying, nothing better than snuggling in the couch with a fluffy blanket, lots of popcorn, and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. That is, until Harry himself steps out of the twenty inches flat screen TV and proclaims you are his arch-nemesis, not to mention him threatening you with his wand. “Don’t move! Dumbledore will be here any minute, you scumbag!” he yelled at me in a deep roaring voice. My knees weakened under me and I crumpled onto the flower-patterned carpet. This was my favorite dream and worst nightmare at the same time! “I…I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about…“, I stuttered, trying my best not to burst into tears. And to those of you ordinary Muggles who have not yet been threatened by an angry wizard in possession of a wand, let me just tell you that it is not your typical idea of fun!
      At that point, Harry’s eyes seemed to be about to come out of their sockets, he looked really mad at me. “Please don’t kill me…“, I begged with my most innocent and pleading tone. “Kill you? Why? Wait, who are you? Mundungus? Mundungus Fletcher, you terrible excuse for a wizard, what have you done? “, Harry muttered, now talking to the TV. And just like that, in a flash of yellow light, he was gone and safely back in the movie. I let out a grateful sigh. Thank God, I was still alive, but it had been a close call! The rest of the movie passed by smoothly, and at the end, I swear I saw Harry wink at me…

    40. 1engelia says:

      I stared at the figure standing in front of my brand new 50 inch flat screen TV. My eyes squinted in confusion. Maybe I’d had one too many Redbulls and was overdosing on sugar. I leaned forward.

      “Charlie Sheen?” I asked.

      “It is I, Charlie Sheen. And you are my arch-nemesis, the diabolical Chuck Lorre.” The last two words were said in a deadpan voice reminiscent of the conniving Pinky from Pinky and The Brain.

      “Um, yeah. First of all, I’m a girl. And second of all, Chuck Lorre doesn’t live here.”

      Confused, the goddess loving actor looked around taking in my Pier One furniture. “You mean this isn’t 245 Sunshine Avenue?”

      “No, this is 345 Sunshine Avenue.”

      Now his eyes squinted in confusion. “Huh. Well, I’ll be.” He scratched his head. “I do apologize for interrupting your evening. Carry on.” With a wave and smile, Charlie Sheen turned around.

      “Charlie?”

      He turned back around. “Yes?”

      “What exactly was your plan? To just jump out of the TV and announce yourself?”

      “That’s what I usually do when I enter a room. Sometimes if I’m lucky there’s a big chested woman on the other side and I get to motorboat her. That really gets the crowd going.” He laughed to himself.

      Now my eyes were widened with disbelief. He was a lot funnier on Two and a Half Men. “Goodbye, Charlie.”

      Charlie Sheen disappeared back into my TV. I settled back on the couch and flipped to the movie channel.
      Oh, Magic Mike. I pushed the buy button. Now, Channing Tatum coming out of my TV and proclaiming I’m his arch-nemesis is a battle I’d be willing to fight.

    41. brotherobin says:

      “You’ve got that right buddy!”, I screamed back at the under pixelated form squeezing his way out of some obscure 70′s late night Kung Fu flick… my wife was there mind you, I had to make an impression.
      Ignoring the obvious, I jumped from the couch as if this intruders presence was no more unbelievable than the cheesy flower vase I knocked off the table in the process.
      “On guard you rat fink!”, I shouted at this, now seemingly bewildered, blast from the B movie past as I waved my remote out in front of him like a sword in the hand of a Lost Boy showing off for Peter Pan.
      Impressed with my courageous reaction, no doubt, my wife began to cheer me on!
      With my ego stoked by the chants of my new found fan, I began to jump and spin with proud exclamations of “Yas!” and even a couple of well placed, in my opinion, “Hi-yas!”… all for effect, of course.
      And with one final wave of my remote, followed by one simple ‘click’… he was gone.
      “Gotta love technology”, I said, looking back with a wink at my wife still sitting on the couch hiding her giggles behind the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.
      “Gotta love it”, she agreed, winking back at me.
      “Now if you’ll excuse me” I said, “I’m gonna go change my underwear.”
      As I made my way down the hall, thoroughly confused, I couldn’t help but replay an old rhyme in my head… “So, please, oh please, we beg, we pray, go throw your TV set away…”, I think Roald Dahl new a little more than he was telling us. God bless ‘em.

    42. Leond says:

      As Justin Thyme’s surprisingly strung hands held me dangling off the ground, I couldn’t resist one overpowering thought: this is a very gripping show.
      Several things surprised me about this situation. One of them was the fact that a ten foot tall version the main character of Fox’s comedy cop show “Just in Thyme” had climbed out of the my television, declared that I was his arch-nemesis and was attacking me. Another was the fact that… Actually, it was pretty much just that first thing. But that was surprising me a lot.
      “Um…” I said, awkwardly, “Sorry?” He held me closer. “I didn’t know that there was an arch-nemesis. Do I show up later on? Because if so, I’d prefer you didn’t spoil it.”
      He shook his head. “Oh, no,” he said. “You’ve been in every episode. Ever since the pilot.”
      “Really? Even the Christmas one where it turned out there hadn’t actually been a crime?”
      “Especially the Christmas one where it turned out there hadn’t actually been a crime.”
      “Oh. Well that’s rather devious of me.”
      He shook his head again. “Not really.”
      “Just out of curiosity,” I asked, “Since when did you become a giant?”
      “Everything on television is bigger than it looks.” He paused as if he was expecting something. “Well?”
      “Well what?”
      “Villains are supposed to exposit their evil plans when they face down their corresponding heroes. I can’t defeat you until you do.”
      I smiled as kindly as I could manage. “Ah. Very reasonable. Unfortunately, you seem to be the only one who knows my plan. I don’t suppose you could exposit it for me?”
      He looked sad. “Well, it’s irregular, but… I guess meta things always are. You, as a viewer, are creating a desire to have my television show be a meaningless comedy, preventing it from being a serious drama bringing serious messages to the people about intolerance and poverty.”
      “My evil plan is to enjoy comedy?”
      “Right. And since my show could have prevented, that makes you responsible for all intolerance and poverty..”
      “Oh.” I considered his logic. I certainly couldn’t say it felt good to be blamed for all intolerance and poverty. “So you want your episodes to have heavy-handed morals?”
      “Exactly. I was thinking of ending sexism this week. If it weren’t for you. Now give me a reason not to kill you. It’s customary.”
      I thought. “What if letting me go and returning to your show acted as a heavy-handed moral?”
      “Like what?”
      “Meaningless comedy helps people keep their sanity while they deal with their real-life problems?”
      He paused. “That is heavy-handed.” He laid me down. “I like it. True, but tritely put. Good stuff.” With that, he climbed back in the television.
      Credits.
      ‘Now, that was a very special episode,’ I thought.

    43. mo0515508 says:

      It was a typical lazy Saturday afternoon, as my little brother and I stood arguing over which movie to watch. I suggested flipping a coin, and he squinted his eyes at me. “Fine,” he replied. As I threw the penny up in the air it came down in an instant, spinning upon the wooden floor. Finally it landed on heads. I yelled out “score!” and slipped Lord of the Rings into the VCR. My little brother scowled and crossed his arms while flinging himself on the couch. “Fair is fair,” I told him.
      Frodo was just escaping across the river at the edge of the Shire when my stomach growled. I went to the kitchen and threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. That was when my brother began screaming. I ran to the living room to find all four hobbits had been magically transferred from the TV to my house. They were all huddled together, Sam and Frodo holding swords. I almost laughed due to them being half my height.
      My brother ran behind me, cowering. I thought it was all a dream, and began asking the four questions. They just stood there, staring at me. I noticed a blue fire burning in their eyes, and I reached out a finger in an attempt to poke one of them. Surely, they couldn’t be real. I could see right through them! Just as I was beginning to get close, Sam yelled out “Get back, Frodo!” and began swinging the sword around. It came inches from swiping my belly and I imagined what my insides would look like dangling upon the floor.
      Why had they thought we were Orcs? “We are not Orcs! We can help you get back to the Shire!” I suggested. My brother and I began taking baby steps backwards. What was going on here? “Don’t trust em, Mr. Frodo,” said Sam. “Aye Sam, the elven sword is glowing. They are Orcs in disguise!” Frodo replied. They began charging at us, swords lowered. Reasoning with them was obviously out of the question. We retreated to the kitchen.
      How did they get so brave all of a sudden? At the beginning of the movie, the hobbits don’t even know what the world is like outside of the shire, and here they are waving swords in my face, proclaiming that we are Orcs! They had cornered us in one section of the kitchen, when I pulled open one of the drawers, producing a large kitchen knife. They were not fazed.
      My little brother poked me, and whispered his plan in my ear as the four of them stepped closer. We jumped over the counter just in time, and headed straight for the back door. I tripped on the steps just outside the door, and thought I was a goner. I peeked through my fingers, and saw them fade out one by one as they stepped outside. We took it as a sign, and stayed outside the rest of the day.

    44. JRSimmang says:

      Panthervision

      Apparently, my television was the one that came with optional transdimensional portal. The button must exist somewhere between the up and down arrows on the remote because that’s what I pressed right before Inspector Clouseau stuck his leg through the pane, tumbled out, snagged his coat jacket on a lightswitch, crammed his foot (still inside the TV) into a flower pot, and cartwheeled into my front room.
      I just ate McDonald’s. I had hallucinated before from a Quarter Pounder with cheese.
      “You are my arch-nemesis.”
      Ah the French. Always so dramatic.
      I thrust out my hand to swat away at the hallucination only to have it met with a karate chop, which wasn’t very well executed, and a “Stay Back!”
      Yeah it hurt. Yeah I was confused. First of all, my TV spat out a character from the Pink Panter. Second of all, I had really bad gas.
      “Mr Collins. You have been charged with the most egregi- egrigor- worst crime imaginable.”
      I supposed now was as good a time as any to talk back. “Who?”
      “You, you silly man.”
      “Me?”
      “You. You, Mr Collins, are charged with stealing the priceless Pink Panther Diamond.”
      “What?”
      “It’s the facts.”
      I appraised the good inspector. “Mr Clouseau-”
      “Chief Inspector Clouseau,” he corrected.
      “You have the wrong guy. My name is Mr Collinsworth. Victor Collinsworth.”
      He seemed to be taken aback. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a notebook, and asked “Of 7122 Mulberry Court?”
      “No, of 7124 Mulberry Court.”
      He puckered his lips and replyed, “Well, then, I guess I’ll be leaving.” He made a karate chop in the air. “Very well, then, Mr Collings…
      “Worth.”
      “Worth. Have a nice day and watch your back. I’m always just around the-” and he spun on his heels, tumbled, and fell back through the TV.
      Which summarily exploded.

    45. Chrisgiraffe says:

      You know you’re sitting too close to the TV when a fist swings around and knocks the bag of chips out of your hand and onto a nearby wall. I heard the unmistakable scream of a teen boy wronged by a group of karate wielding bullies. It was Daniel Russo- the Karate Kid!

      “I’ve had enough!” the Karate Kid insisted.

      “Ralph Macchio?” my friend Mike said.

      “You Cobra Kai think you can just run over anyone but tonight we settle it.”

      “Wait. You think I’m a Cobra Kai?” I asked.

      “We’re not in your dojo, we’re not at the arcade where you guys can bully me around. We’re here at the tournament and we’re gonna settle this fairly, once and for all. Now get in the ring!” He insisted.

      My friend Mike looked at me and said, ‘I think he’s for real. You have to fight him.”

      I was still trying to get a handle on this when the Karate Kid put a Karate Chop on my mom’s Waterford Crystal egg that split it in bits.

      “You’ve got to be kidding me!” I yelled out.

      “I’m not leaving until you fight me!” the Karate Kid insisted.

      “Your going home in a body bag!” I said.

      We faced in the living room. I had no idea what he was going to throw at me and, to be honest, I thought I was gonna get my ass kicked. I didn’t know Karate or any kind of martial art. I was hoping he might miss and I could tackle him. But then I saw my lucky break. He stood in his famous ‘Crane’ style Karate pose. He was going to give me an upper-cut with his one good leg.

      “Sweep the leg!” Mike yelled to me.

      “Sweeping is illegal” the Karate Kid reminded me. “Now FIGHT!”

      I swept the leg. He went down like a sack of potatoes. Mike and I celebrated with a Hi-Five. As he writhed in agony on my living room floor I pointed in his face and said, “THAT is why you don’t mess with the Cobra Kai!”

    46. Chrisgiraffe says:

      I stepped out of the restroom and rushed to the pantry. Commercials were still running and I knew if I was fast I could have a soda and chips before the Empire Strikes Back resumed. As I opened the fridge I heard a noise. My instincts knew I wasn’t alone.

      “Evil one, you are. I’ve come to battle dark side.”

      “Yoda?” I called out.

      Suddenly the Muppet-sized little green guy grabbed onto the back of my head. He struggled viciously, scratching, kicking and it, well… tickled. I pulled him off easily and placed him on the couch.

      “Strong is the force with you, evil one.” Yoda was very displeased.

      “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa whoa!” I stopped him. “I’m one of the good guys. I’m on your side.”

      “Confuse a Jedi Master, you will not. Yoda must put and end to the dark one.”

      “Listen, I don’t want to get into this with you, man.” I said.

      “Battle, we will!”

      He stood up with purpose and dignity, made a meaningful gesture with his hands, closed his eyes and grunted. Nothing happened. He grunted for another long minute and a half then opened his eyes.

      “Force has not crushed you. Dark side, too powerful on this planet.”

      “Arrrrrgggg!” I yelled in frustration. “I’m missing it!” I said. This sent him scurrying.

      I ran to the pantry, grabbed the open Halloween bag of candy along with my other snacks and returned to the living room. I took out a bite-sized Snickers bar, opened it and tossed it to him. “Here.”

      He sniffed it, took a bite and smiled. “Good Jedi, you might be after all.”

      “Yeah, yeah, yeah, now can I watch my movie?” I asked.

      “Before we watch, can you help an old Jedi?”

      “Yes!” I cried out. He could sense my exasperation.

      “Restroom can you point a Jedi to?”

      • zo-zo says:

        This made me laugh!! :) Loved your character, worked well!

        • Chrisgiraffe says:

          Thanks zo-zo. :-)

          This might be my favorite writing prompt so far. I always take the side of a protagonist whenever I write and it was refreshing, perhaps even revelatory as a writer to play the antagonist. How often do we take on the side of the protagonist because we want people to see the good in us rather than the full spectrum of our characters? There’s something to be said for a good villain, or even a funny one.

          After writing this one I relished the idea of whooping ‘the Karate Kid’ (see below) and it was fun trying to ‘send him home in a body bag!’ Hehehehehe. That line in the movie always cracks me up. :-)

          Again, thanks!

    47. ddtw224 says:

      You would have thought Popeye was short. Not the case. He’s got at least three inches on me, and I’m six feet. I know because every night at 9:30 he steps out of the television (the cartoon, not Robin Williams), downs a can of spinach, and demands I release Olive Oil. Then we go to town.
      Now, you may be asking, “Bill, why are you watching Popeye at 9:30 everynight?” Fair question.
      If Popeye came out of your television, wouldn’t you? The money that people will pay to watch you fight Popeye is insane. Plus all the national coverage. The paparazzi. Crazy, huh?
      But I’ll let you be the first to know. It’s kind of getting old. The vendors are starting to bitch; the neighbors are tired of the traffic; the cops are starting to get on my ass about the whole thing. And I know all his moves.
      You know what though. I was just thinking. What if I up admission and have the cops take him on. Guns and all. I mean, he’s just a cartoon, right? Would that be wrong?

    48. beccaboo92 says:

      I was sitting in my living room on a Friday night watching Thor the movie and all the sudden Thor comes out of my TV. He is standing right in front of me. I scream because he is huge and way scarier in real life. He suddenly says, “You are my arch nemesis.” I can’t believe it and I suddenly realize that means he is going to destroy me. I freeze and finally decide running would probably be a good idea. I run down my hallway to my room and hid in my closet. He of course is going to find me, but I need time to think. I get this great idea all of a sudden. I get my jacket on and my car keys. When he opens my closet door, I am going to run between his legs and get in my car. I will then drive as far away as I can. Thor throws his hammer through my closet door and it flies open. I run as fast as my legs can carry me to my car. I get in my car and speed onto the road. I look in my rear view mirror and don’t see Thor. I breathe a sigh of relief. I slow down and then decide I am going to go to my parents’ house and stay there tell things blow over. As I am sitting at a stop light, I hear a loud crash. I slowly turn around and see that Thor has caught up to me. I step on the gas and run the red light to get away. The only problem is that he can run almost as fast as my car can drive. After getting on the highway, he finally catches me. He smashes my car and I slowly crawl from underneath it. Thor is standing there and he ask, “Do you have and last words.” I start crying and say, “Please kill me fast.” He then lifts his hammer up high in the air and I close my eyes waiting for him to smash me. Then I my eyes fly open and I am sitting in my living room hearing the music to the credits of Thor. I run down the hall to see if evidence of Thor is present, but my closet door is fine and my car was never smashed. I breathe a sigh of relief and laugh to myself. No more superhero movies before I go to bed.

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