It's one of those weekend days, you dream about while you're at work.
You begin the morning with a fresh conversation.
Followed by cheap breakfast.
And the blackest, bottomless, cup of coffee.
A walk to the grocery store.
Re-usable bag in tote.
Giant DJ like headphones.
And collar up on the jacket to protect yourself from the cold that has begun to settle in.
It's one of the last days of fall.
Almost everyone can feel it.
The neighbors quickly rake the remnants of leaves on their front lawns.
While others plaster their windows to keep warm during snowy winter days.
All I can think of is the months that are to come.
And the months I will leave behind.
Some of my favorites.
The leaves are a solid gold color.
No longer, red or orange.
They lie dead on the roadside, awaiting their monthly pickup.
I, meanwhile, patiently watch all of this, in a room permeated with candles and a warm dog in my lap.
Tracy Chapman spins on the turntable and hauntingly lights up the room.
As I think to myself silently.
Is this the beginning of something new and great?
Or am I destined to repeat my mistakes and long for a way out?
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
The Burning
I hear the women screaming in the distance, but there is little I can do, before the fire consumes them and swallows the village whole.
I often wondered as a boy what it would like to be a hero.
I guess this is one of those times where I should have stepped up and attempted to save them.
My cowardice gets the best of me, as I begin to smell the burning flesh of animals, hay, and people.
The smoke rises in the air, a white plume of death.
I hallucinate from the fumes, thinking it has turned blood red.
My neighbor pulls me away from the wreckage, handing me a surgical mask to protect myself from the toxic stench.
Here lied, a man who cried.
Denied, to try.
And wished to save those who died.
I often wondered as a boy what it would like to be a hero.
I guess this is one of those times where I should have stepped up and attempted to save them.
My cowardice gets the best of me, as I begin to smell the burning flesh of animals, hay, and people.
The smoke rises in the air, a white plume of death.
I hallucinate from the fumes, thinking it has turned blood red.
My neighbor pulls me away from the wreckage, handing me a surgical mask to protect myself from the toxic stench.
Here lied, a man who cried.
Denied, to try.
And wished to save those who died.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
The Dark Place
The lovely bones,
they munch and groan.
We sit and wait.
While Mary mothers march.
The time has come,
to be undone.
The whistling wind,
waits for our reply.
The haunted screams,
the painful burns.
The heart ache,
the blindness.
Everything is nothing.
What is the point,
of this mediocre life?
Once we obtain everything we've strived for,
we're painfully pushed to gain more.
What if there wasn't a light,
but night?
What if you've felt complete?
Then what?
In my own words,
I'm not sure.
I'm surrounded by love,
and material possessions,
but I am certainly ready to die.
they munch and groan.
We sit and wait.
While Mary mothers march.
The time has come,
to be undone.
The whistling wind,
waits for our reply.
The haunted screams,
the painful burns.
The heart ache,
the blindness.
Everything is nothing.
What is the point,
of this mediocre life?
Once we obtain everything we've strived for,
we're painfully pushed to gain more.
What if there wasn't a light,
but night?
What if you've felt complete?
Then what?
In my own words,
I'm not sure.
I'm surrounded by love,
and material possessions,
but I am certainly ready to die.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Kardashians Vs. The Riddler Part XVI: Pitter Patter
Kendall screamed, as Bruce closed in on her.
She tried to run, but some clay separated from his body and wrapped itself firmly around her.
Bruce knew she would never understand.
And taking her captive wasn't the way to win his daughter over.
So he kissed his child good bye, and let her go.
She rushed out the door.
The shrill of her tires screeched down the block.
Bruce could barely keep his composure.
Literally.
The skin on his face began dripping like hot candle wax.
There was nothing human about him anymore.
He was a thing of clay.
His freakish accident with the magic cream had slowly transformed him into a pile of dough.
His perfect complexion had only lasted a couple of months before he awoke to his current nightmare.
Kris, had learned of his accident, days before her death.
After heavy dreams on Valium she awoke to a pile of Bruce next to her.
She wasn't sure if her drugs were still in effect.
But the lumpy mess next to her was breathing.
His face had sunken into the pillow
She found his eyes resting in her hair.
When Bruce awoke, he somewhat shifted back to his original form.
She handed him pieces of his face.
The secret was out.
So he packed his things.
And left.
He let Kris decide whether the family should know about his tragedy.
But judging by Kendall's reaction.
No one did.
Bruce had jumped planes through Asia.
In search of a cure, for his disease.
Everything was paid in cash, so nothing would be traceable.
He had wanted to disappear completely.
A human potato head, Bruce learned to rearrange his face, taking on many disguises.
And realized the clay was controllable.
It was a temporary relief as he realized his body was deteriorating.
With help from the Internet, and random bribes, Bruce found himself in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.
The location of the manufacturing plant that shipped his magical cream.
No surprise, it was located in the worst part of town.
And created many other illegal drugs and beauty products sold within the black market.
Bruce tried to organize a civilized meeting with the plant owner, but was quickly denied.
He struggled mostly because he didn't speak the language.
So he decided to give them a taste of their own medicine.
He channelled his energy and took shape of a homeless Cambodian factory worker.
Bruce slipped into the building, feeling excruciating pain from the transformation.
By staying in this form, he was draining part of his life source.
He could feel his body getting weaker.
Inside the building he witnessed unsavory acts of brute ism.
New products were being tested on captive Cambodians.
The were bound by their feet and hands by chains.
Some test went well.
While others resulted in death.
Bruce found a room where the dead were left.
Some remained conscious, praying for death as they rotted amongst the corpses.
Cambodian guards verbally and physically abused the factory workers to motivate them further.
Bruce slinked through the dark corners, finding his way to the executive office.
Two guards stood watch outside, as a loud Cambodian voice bellowed from behind the office door.
Bruce approached the guards.
Who shouted at him in Khmer.
One readied his rifle, while the other pistol whipped Bruce.
The pain sizzled, as the gun melted into Bruce's face.
Bruce smothered both men with clay before they could scream.
He entered the office.
Inside was a short Cambodian man shouting on the phone.
He wore a suit and was smoking a cigar.
Bruce attacked, smashing the phone, and binding him with clay.
He demanded answers from him, but he spoke no English.
The businessman didn't appear to be shocked at Bruce's appearance.
Which pissed him off further.
Bruce had figured the man had seen something like this before.
And ultimately was responsible for his transformation.
So he drowned him with clay.
Hoping to give him a taste of his own medicine.
Unfortunately, the side effects were not the same.
And Bruce ended his life painfully, rather than transform him.
The guilt over this mans death was small, as Bruce gathered all the information he could muster in a briefcase.
And decided to return to his home.
People were frightened by his invisible man persona.
But he arrived back to Los Angeles.
It was then, that he had noticed the headline of all tabloid magazines.
Revealing his wife had been murdered.
Had he been there, he could have stopped it.
But he was too swept up in his quest for a cure.
His family needed him.
And so did the police.
He realized he had become suspect number one.
And refused to expose himself to the world.
So he went into hiding.
Watching over each family members in secret.
Soon Bruce knew there was nothing more he could do for his family, after Kourtney committed suicide.
So he decided to disappear forever.
Working silently on the case of the Riddlers Puzzle murder.
Abandoning all hope for a cure.
His findings were scarce.
And his instincts led him to the Beverly Hilton.
It was a file on Brody he found within the Hilton dynasty, that brought him back to the family.
With a surpise visit to Brody's condo.
Where Kendall, discovered his dripping carcass.
Where is Brody? Bruce wondered.
As the LAPD arrived to the condo.
Helicopters surrounded the house.
She tried to run, but some clay separated from his body and wrapped itself firmly around her.
Bruce knew she would never understand.
And taking her captive wasn't the way to win his daughter over.
So he kissed his child good bye, and let her go.
She rushed out the door.
The shrill of her tires screeched down the block.
Bruce could barely keep his composure.
Literally.
The skin on his face began dripping like hot candle wax.
There was nothing human about him anymore.
He was a thing of clay.
His freakish accident with the magic cream had slowly transformed him into a pile of dough.
His perfect complexion had only lasted a couple of months before he awoke to his current nightmare.
Kris, had learned of his accident, days before her death.
After heavy dreams on Valium she awoke to a pile of Bruce next to her.
She wasn't sure if her drugs were still in effect.
But the lumpy mess next to her was breathing.
His face had sunken into the pillow
She found his eyes resting in her hair.
When Bruce awoke, he somewhat shifted back to his original form.
She handed him pieces of his face.
The secret was out.
So he packed his things.
And left.
He let Kris decide whether the family should know about his tragedy.
But judging by Kendall's reaction.
No one did.
Bruce had jumped planes through Asia.
In search of a cure, for his disease.
Everything was paid in cash, so nothing would be traceable.
He had wanted to disappear completely.
A human potato head, Bruce learned to rearrange his face, taking on many disguises.
And realized the clay was controllable.
It was a temporary relief as he realized his body was deteriorating.
With help from the Internet, and random bribes, Bruce found himself in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.
The location of the manufacturing plant that shipped his magical cream.
No surprise, it was located in the worst part of town.
And created many other illegal drugs and beauty products sold within the black market.
Bruce tried to organize a civilized meeting with the plant owner, but was quickly denied.
He struggled mostly because he didn't speak the language.
So he decided to give them a taste of their own medicine.
He channelled his energy and took shape of a homeless Cambodian factory worker.
Bruce slipped into the building, feeling excruciating pain from the transformation.
By staying in this form, he was draining part of his life source.
He could feel his body getting weaker.
Inside the building he witnessed unsavory acts of brute ism.
New products were being tested on captive Cambodians.
The were bound by their feet and hands by chains.
Some test went well.
While others resulted in death.
Bruce found a room where the dead were left.
Some remained conscious, praying for death as they rotted amongst the corpses.
Cambodian guards verbally and physically abused the factory workers to motivate them further.
Bruce slinked through the dark corners, finding his way to the executive office.
Two guards stood watch outside, as a loud Cambodian voice bellowed from behind the office door.
Bruce approached the guards.
Who shouted at him in Khmer.
One readied his rifle, while the other pistol whipped Bruce.
The pain sizzled, as the gun melted into Bruce's face.
Bruce smothered both men with clay before they could scream.
He entered the office.
Inside was a short Cambodian man shouting on the phone.
He wore a suit and was smoking a cigar.
Bruce attacked, smashing the phone, and binding him with clay.
He demanded answers from him, but he spoke no English.
The businessman didn't appear to be shocked at Bruce's appearance.
Which pissed him off further.
Bruce had figured the man had seen something like this before.
And ultimately was responsible for his transformation.
So he drowned him with clay.
Hoping to give him a taste of his own medicine.
Unfortunately, the side effects were not the same.
And Bruce ended his life painfully, rather than transform him.
The guilt over this mans death was small, as Bruce gathered all the information he could muster in a briefcase.
And decided to return to his home.
People were frightened by his invisible man persona.
But he arrived back to Los Angeles.
It was then, that he had noticed the headline of all tabloid magazines.
Revealing his wife had been murdered.
Had he been there, he could have stopped it.
But he was too swept up in his quest for a cure.
His family needed him.
And so did the police.
He realized he had become suspect number one.
And refused to expose himself to the world.
So he went into hiding.
Watching over each family members in secret.
Soon Bruce knew there was nothing more he could do for his family, after Kourtney committed suicide.
So he decided to disappear forever.
Working silently on the case of the Riddlers Puzzle murder.
Abandoning all hope for a cure.
His findings were scarce.
And his instincts led him to the Beverly Hilton.
It was a file on Brody he found within the Hilton dynasty, that brought him back to the family.
With a surpise visit to Brody's condo.
Where Kendall, discovered his dripping carcass.
Where is Brody? Bruce wondered.
As the LAPD arrived to the condo.
Helicopters surrounded the house.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Kardashians Vs. The Riddler Part XV: Redemption
As far as the media was concerned, Rob Kardashian was making a comeback.
He had briefly checked himself into a rehabilitation center which stirred the press fascination.
The world loved a comeback, especially when a celebrity fell hard.
In this case, everyone was holding out hope for the only Kardashians male.
No longer did he party with Lindsay.
Hit the clubs.
Or drink a drop of alcohol.
He was back on the straight and narrow.
Rob wasn't the same junkie the tabloids had seen in the past.
His style had become refined.
His smile had faded.
He had transitioned into a sophisticated man.
No longer was he wandering the streets.
Or crashing at a users house in Venice.
He checked into the Beverly Hilton.
And was seen carrying on with Richard Hilton.
The Kardashians sworn enemy.
The press ate it up, writing:
Not since Montague and Capulet, have we seen such a historical feud settled between the Kardashians and Hiltons.
Everyone had begun to wonder.
Where are the other Kardashians?
Kendall was the only one keeping up with appearances.
Given the families past woe's the public speculated various rumors.
Kim was said to be pregnant, and in hiding
Khloe fled to Mexico, drinking the pain of her separation away.
Kylie was placed in an all girls catholic boarding school.
While Brody back packed through Tibet on a spiritual journey.
Yes, everyone had fled from their lives, while Rob and Kendall rebounded.
Except the Rob everyone grew to love was not the man born to Kris Jenner Kardashian.
He was a clone.
Created by the Riddler.
The public created conspiracies against him, as soon as a picture of Rob with green glowing eyes surfaced on the internet.
The picture was proved to be a hoax, but in reality it hadn't been.
New Rob had become careful, not to further expose his identity.
And wore designer sunglasses with every suit and tie.
It became a national trend, splashed across every fashion magazine.
New Rob had no thoughts or desires.
Inside he was empty.
A robot, of sorts, given to Richard Hilton by The Riddler.
He did not sleep.
He didn't eat.
He didn't even blink.
Richard tested New Robs effectiveness, by placing a bounty on sister Khloe's head.
Recently she had arrived at the Hilton, poking her nose where it hadn't belonged.
She stormed out of the hotel, causing a scene and embarrassing Richard in front of his guests.
She had to pay for her consequences.
So Richard sent the drone to follow her.
And eventually kill her.
Rob followed these instructions, taking an unlicensed SUV.
Rick sent two others to tail him as insurance.
Rob followed Khloe.
Trailing behind her BMW.
Her driving had become erratic, tipping him off that she had spotted him.
She led him to Mulholland, racing through the hills.
He had lost to her cat and mouse game, by striking oncoming traffic.
He flipped the SUV, as the other sped off after her.
Flipped upside down, Robs body shut down.
Bystanders flocked to his rescue.
An ambulance was called.
He appeared to be dead, but his eyes were wide open.
Paramedics pulled him from the vehicle.
Khloe arrived and spotted her little brother, being loaded into the ambulance.
His eyes flashed green, before the ambulance squealed to a start.
He stared intensely at her, before being sealed off in the vehicle.
The lead examiner checked for his pulse, but couldn't find it.
They shined a light in his eye.
Monitored his heart.
But everything was dead inside.
New Rob, snapped their necks, tossing them out the back.
He ripped his way through the ambulance, killing the driver.
New Rob took hold of the wheel and switched directions.
Pedal to the ground, he aimed the vehicle back toward Khloe.
Chaos ensued as the ambulance plowed through the remaining onlookers.
In the distance, New Rob found Khloe.
She was thrown to the hood of the ambulance as he rammed in to her.
They soared over the edge.
Khloe howled, as the vehicle rolled over her body, and crashed into the ravine below.
New Rob, was thrown through the windshield, hitting his head on a rock.
The two Kardashians lie silent.
Both without a pulse.
New Rob, twitched as he was brought back to life.
His eyes began to rapidly blink, as memories flood his head.
The sight of his dead sister, brought a green tear to his eye.
Suddenly green drops were down pouring, as he realized the consequences of his actions.
He was still an indestructible machine.
But somehow, the blow to his head had triggered implanted memories that were locked deep within.
Rob shivered, as he rose to his feet.
His arm gnarled and twisted.
He cracked everything back into place.
Feeling no pain.
New Rob carried his dead sister in his arms.
As the sun began to set over the Hollywood hills.
Rob hobbled aimlessly down the road.
He had become more human than the original Rob had been in the past year.
And cursed his new soul that had entered his body.
And killed his sister Khloe.
He had briefly checked himself into a rehabilitation center which stirred the press fascination.
The world loved a comeback, especially when a celebrity fell hard.
In this case, everyone was holding out hope for the only Kardashians male.
No longer did he party with Lindsay.
Hit the clubs.
Or drink a drop of alcohol.
He was back on the straight and narrow.
Rob wasn't the same junkie the tabloids had seen in the past.
His style had become refined.
His smile had faded.
He had transitioned into a sophisticated man.
No longer was he wandering the streets.
Or crashing at a users house in Venice.
He checked into the Beverly Hilton.
And was seen carrying on with Richard Hilton.
The Kardashians sworn enemy.
The press ate it up, writing:
Not since Montague and Capulet, have we seen such a historical feud settled between the Kardashians and Hiltons.
Everyone had begun to wonder.
Where are the other Kardashians?
Kendall was the only one keeping up with appearances.
Given the families past woe's the public speculated various rumors.
Kim was said to be pregnant, and in hiding
Khloe fled to Mexico, drinking the pain of her separation away.
Kylie was placed in an all girls catholic boarding school.
While Brody back packed through Tibet on a spiritual journey.
Yes, everyone had fled from their lives, while Rob and Kendall rebounded.
Except the Rob everyone grew to love was not the man born to Kris Jenner Kardashian.
He was a clone.
Created by the Riddler.
The public created conspiracies against him, as soon as a picture of Rob with green glowing eyes surfaced on the internet.
The picture was proved to be a hoax, but in reality it hadn't been.
New Rob had become careful, not to further expose his identity.
And wore designer sunglasses with every suit and tie.
It became a national trend, splashed across every fashion magazine.
New Rob had no thoughts or desires.
Inside he was empty.
A robot, of sorts, given to Richard Hilton by The Riddler.
He did not sleep.
He didn't eat.
He didn't even blink.
Richard tested New Robs effectiveness, by placing a bounty on sister Khloe's head.
Recently she had arrived at the Hilton, poking her nose where it hadn't belonged.
She stormed out of the hotel, causing a scene and embarrassing Richard in front of his guests.
She had to pay for her consequences.
So Richard sent the drone to follow her.
And eventually kill her.
Rob followed these instructions, taking an unlicensed SUV.
Rick sent two others to tail him as insurance.
Rob followed Khloe.
Trailing behind her BMW.
Her driving had become erratic, tipping him off that she had spotted him.
She led him to Mulholland, racing through the hills.
He had lost to her cat and mouse game, by striking oncoming traffic.
He flipped the SUV, as the other sped off after her.
Flipped upside down, Robs body shut down.
Bystanders flocked to his rescue.
An ambulance was called.
He appeared to be dead, but his eyes were wide open.
Paramedics pulled him from the vehicle.
Khloe arrived and spotted her little brother, being loaded into the ambulance.
His eyes flashed green, before the ambulance squealed to a start.
He stared intensely at her, before being sealed off in the vehicle.
The lead examiner checked for his pulse, but couldn't find it.
They shined a light in his eye.
Monitored his heart.
But everything was dead inside.
New Rob, snapped their necks, tossing them out the back.
He ripped his way through the ambulance, killing the driver.
New Rob took hold of the wheel and switched directions.
Pedal to the ground, he aimed the vehicle back toward Khloe.
Chaos ensued as the ambulance plowed through the remaining onlookers.
In the distance, New Rob found Khloe.
She was thrown to the hood of the ambulance as he rammed in to her.
They soared over the edge.
Khloe howled, as the vehicle rolled over her body, and crashed into the ravine below.
New Rob, was thrown through the windshield, hitting his head on a rock.
The two Kardashians lie silent.
Both without a pulse.
New Rob, twitched as he was brought back to life.
His eyes began to rapidly blink, as memories flood his head.
The sight of his dead sister, brought a green tear to his eye.
Suddenly green drops were down pouring, as he realized the consequences of his actions.
He was still an indestructible machine.
But somehow, the blow to his head had triggered implanted memories that were locked deep within.
Rob shivered, as he rose to his feet.
His arm gnarled and twisted.
He cracked everything back into place.
Feeling no pain.
New Rob carried his dead sister in his arms.
As the sun began to set over the Hollywood hills.
Rob hobbled aimlessly down the road.
He had become more human than the original Rob had been in the past year.
And cursed his new soul that had entered his body.
And killed his sister Khloe.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Kardashians Vs. The Riddler Part XIV: Tunnel Vision
Brody awoke.
Slightly discombobulated.
It was dark, where he was.
The air was dense.
He tried sitting up, but he was confined to a small space.
He felt all around him, realizing it was dirt.
He kicked his feet, wondering if he was buried alive, but there was plenty of leg room.
He reached in front of him to the space that seemed to go no forever.
Brody began to crawl forward, hoping he wouldn't reach a dead end.
Behind him, the dirt crackled.
Someone was there.
He couldn't see them, but he knew it was coming for him.
He crouched to all fours.
His back pressed against the ceiling.
He scurried forward, hoping to find a way out.
The object behind him was closing in.
No matter how fast he crawled, it seemed to gain immense speed.
Brody hit a wall, realizing his path had changed.
Feeling along the dirt wall, he realized he was in some sort of tunnel.
He continued to outrun his captor until he heard his name.
Brody! A girl cried out.
But Brody couldn't recognize it.
He contemplated defeat, until Bruce's face flooded his mind.
Brody continued crawling.
In a sea of black, he could make out some light, the size of a pin, ahead of him.
Rejoicing, he clung his nails into the dirt, pulling himself along the tunnel.
It seemed to be getting smaller and smaller.
He began to feel like Alice in Wonderland as the narrow space became less of an option.
Brody crawled until his body wouldn't fit, a mere foot from the light.
He began to claw at the dirt around him, hoping to loosen up the gravel.
It started to work.
But Brody knew it was too late.
A hand grabbed his foot, pulling him back into the tunnel.
His Body was stuck.
Brody clung to the walls.
The hand turned in to an arm, that took hold of his shirt.
The arm belonged to Kylie Jenner, who made herself visible to Brody by shining a flashlight on herself.
Brody suddenly remembered, the accident.
Kylie, Brody admitted.
She nodded, helping him weasel out of his gravely grave.
I'll explain everything, she told him, but first, you have to follow me.
So he did.
It seemed like hours to Brody as he followed her back the way they had come.
The only comfort being her flashlight that she used sparingly.
Kylie, led him out of the narrow space, and into a run down cave.
There, were bottles of water and a small table with play chairs, occupied by dolls.
A tea set, sat on the table, covered in soot.
Christmas lights twinkled, as Brody re-hydrated.
What's this all about? He asked.
But Kylie was too busy writing in a hard covered notebook.
After a few minutes, she handed him the book.
He flipped through, noticing each page dedicated to a member of the family.
A picture of each of them, clipped to the appropriate file.
He read his file.
Where did you get this? Brody asked, flipping to the next file.
Kylie tapped at her temple, before downing some water.
I don't understand. Why did you bring me here? Brody questioned.
Because it's the only place he can't hear my thoughts, Kylie responded.
Brody flipped to a sketch of The Riddler, done by Kylie.
There was no information, only the word REVENGE written sharply.
He held it up to her.
Friend of yours? He asked.
Used to be, she jested.
I'm going to be frank with you Brody, Kylie snapped.
We've been marked. I need you, and any others still alive, she explained.
Others? Brody questioned.
Kylie tapped at the notebook with files on the families.
Brody paced before sitting stumped on a tiny play chair.
You're just a kid, he remarked.
That was along time ago, Kylie retorted, shutting down.
In, or out? she snorted with an ultimatum.
I can't do this without Brody, the boy wonder, she told him, holding up a sketch of Brody as a superhero.
I don't understand, Brody screamed at her.
You will, she said with trepidation.
Slightly discombobulated.
It was dark, where he was.
The air was dense.
He tried sitting up, but he was confined to a small space.
He felt all around him, realizing it was dirt.
He kicked his feet, wondering if he was buried alive, but there was plenty of leg room.
He reached in front of him to the space that seemed to go no forever.
Brody began to crawl forward, hoping he wouldn't reach a dead end.
Behind him, the dirt crackled.
Someone was there.
He couldn't see them, but he knew it was coming for him.
He crouched to all fours.
His back pressed against the ceiling.
He scurried forward, hoping to find a way out.
The object behind him was closing in.
No matter how fast he crawled, it seemed to gain immense speed.
Brody hit a wall, realizing his path had changed.
Feeling along the dirt wall, he realized he was in some sort of tunnel.
He continued to outrun his captor until he heard his name.
Brody! A girl cried out.
But Brody couldn't recognize it.
He contemplated defeat, until Bruce's face flooded his mind.
Brody continued crawling.
In a sea of black, he could make out some light, the size of a pin, ahead of him.
Rejoicing, he clung his nails into the dirt, pulling himself along the tunnel.
It seemed to be getting smaller and smaller.
He began to feel like Alice in Wonderland as the narrow space became less of an option.
Brody crawled until his body wouldn't fit, a mere foot from the light.
He began to claw at the dirt around him, hoping to loosen up the gravel.
It started to work.
But Brody knew it was too late.
A hand grabbed his foot, pulling him back into the tunnel.
His Body was stuck.
Brody clung to the walls.
The hand turned in to an arm, that took hold of his shirt.
The arm belonged to Kylie Jenner, who made herself visible to Brody by shining a flashlight on herself.
Brody suddenly remembered, the accident.
Kylie, Brody admitted.
She nodded, helping him weasel out of his gravely grave.
I'll explain everything, she told him, but first, you have to follow me.
So he did.
It seemed like hours to Brody as he followed her back the way they had come.
The only comfort being her flashlight that she used sparingly.
Kylie, led him out of the narrow space, and into a run down cave.
There, were bottles of water and a small table with play chairs, occupied by dolls.
A tea set, sat on the table, covered in soot.
Christmas lights twinkled, as Brody re-hydrated.
What's this all about? He asked.
But Kylie was too busy writing in a hard covered notebook.
After a few minutes, she handed him the book.
He flipped through, noticing each page dedicated to a member of the family.
A picture of each of them, clipped to the appropriate file.
He read his file.
Where did you get this? Brody asked, flipping to the next file.
Kylie tapped at her temple, before downing some water.
I don't understand. Why did you bring me here? Brody questioned.
Because it's the only place he can't hear my thoughts, Kylie responded.
Brody flipped to a sketch of The Riddler, done by Kylie.
There was no information, only the word REVENGE written sharply.
He held it up to her.
Friend of yours? He asked.
Used to be, she jested.
I'm going to be frank with you Brody, Kylie snapped.
We've been marked. I need you, and any others still alive, she explained.
Others? Brody questioned.
Kylie tapped at the notebook with files on the families.
Brody paced before sitting stumped on a tiny play chair.
You're just a kid, he remarked.
That was along time ago, Kylie retorted, shutting down.
In, or out? she snorted with an ultimatum.
I can't do this without Brody, the boy wonder, she told him, holding up a sketch of Brody as a superhero.
I don't understand, Brody screamed at her.
You will, she said with trepidation.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Kardashians Vs. The Riddler Part XIII: Riddle Me This
Kendall was sprawled across her bed, in a cut off 80's inspired sweatshirt and a pair of pink panties.
She read from a piece of paper that looked like it was designed by a serial killer.
Individual letters were cut and pasted to read the following message:
The one who makes it doesn't use it.
The one who buys it doesn't need it.
The one who uses it doesn't know he's using it.
What is it?
A coffin, Kendall thought as she lit a cigarette and crumpled up the piece of paper.
She should have been scared, but the riddle intrigued her.
She undressed and took a long hot shower.
Various cuts and scratches surfaced as she soaped her damaged skin.
The steam from the water clouded the room.
She exited the bathroom, naked.
Hoping Brody was home, so she might give him a private show.
But the condo was empty.
She nearly slipped on a pile of clay in the kitchen.
In fact it was all over the place, and lead to the front door.
As if it had walked out itself.
She glanced out the front window, but there was nothing.
Kendall cleaned up the mess and threw it in the trash.
She slipped a very short, black mini dress on to her wire thin frame and wore her long hair down.
Her make up was always dark, emphasizing the eyes.
The last accessory of the night, her mothers black diamond wedding ring.
Kendall had claimed most of her mothers belongings, after the death.
Her favorite.
Bruce's fully restored yellow 1966 Lamborghini Miura.
When traveling to Hollywood, one must travel in style.
Kendall was beginning to pick up media attention as a socialite.
Since the Kardashian brand had been demolished, she was working on rebuilding the Jenner name.
This meant, cutting all ties with her previous family and life.
The nightlife never impressed Kendall, but it was something she had to do.
She remembered all the appearances Kim, Khloe, and Kourtney, were forced to attend against their will, because it kept them in the spotlight.
So she club hopped.
And mingled with A-listers.
People took pity on her, because of her predecessors.
Kendall had also gained a fashionable following.
Designers wanted her because she was taboo, but she would refuse their offers.
Another trick Kris taught her.
To leave them wanting more.
Kendall was insatiable.
Which worked to her advantage.
Her lust for carnage had faded since mother Kris's death.
But that didn't mean her appetite for pain was gone.
After the photogs got their shots.
And the clubs closed their doors for the night.
Kendall frequented exclusive after hours clubs.
The entrance to her favorite club was down an empty alley.
The Jokes On You.
The name of the club, spray painted across a brick wall next to the entrance.
The front door was a heavy steel door, similar to the front of a meat locker.
Kendall hated walking the alley, because of all the garbage and junkies twitching about.
But three knocks later she was in.
The club was a mix of middle class punks, and rich S&M fetishists.
The walls were painted black.
Black lights illuminated the graffiti, splashed across them from glow in the dark paint.
Electro goth, house music rocked the club as couples danced and fucked across the floor.
Kendall was a regular, and those who knew better stayed away.
But tonight she hoped to draw blood.
The owner, a sleazy Indian man with a British accent, greeted her with a glass of neon pink champagne.
Kendall accepted it while she was escorted to a private booth.
She lit a cigarette while scanning the crowd.
No one had struck her fancy.
A few newbies had spotted her and tried approaching, but bouncers denied them entrance to the booth.
Kendall noticed a young man.
His resemblance to Dave Price was uncanny.
She left her sanctuary and took him by the hand.
Seducing him on the dance floor, she swayed to the music.
Kendall allowed him to touch her, running his hands down her thigh.
She stopped him before he could touch between her legs.
She reached in for a kiss, biting his bottom lip.
The taste of blood exhilarated her.
Kendall licked the wound and lead him down a hallway to a private room.
Whips and screams echoed down the hall, as the couple passed multiple rooms with upside down numbers on the outside.
She stopped at number thirteen.
Before she could enter she spotted a tall, bald man wearing a translucent mask.
Tattooed on his forehead was a giant question mark.
Using green, glow in the dark paint, he spray painted question marks across the hallways walls.
Kendalls prey opened door thirteen, pulling her inside.
She took one more look at the question mark graffiti artist, but he had gone.
Kendall was no longer in the mood.
She exited room thirteen and searched for the man.
Nowhere to be found, she asked the owner if he had seen him.
But she had seemed to be the only one that had.
Kendall left the club, returning to Brody's condo.
Inside, more clay.
Kendall stormed to Brody's room, for answers, but he was gone.
Sister Kylie wasn't in her bed either.
Sweeping up the clay, she splashed some across her dress.
Kendall furiously tossed it in the trash and slipped the dress off.
Standing in her heels, bra and panties she noticed the garbage convulse.
She watched as it rocked back and forth, before tipping over.
The clay slithered across the floor, toward her.
Kendall jumped on the counter, flinging her shoes at it.
In the door way stood a man.
The clay swam to him, attaching itself to his skin.
The man was shrivelled and continuously pulsed.
Daddy's home, he garbled, stepping into the light.
It was Bruce.
She'd recognize her father anywhere.
She read from a piece of paper that looked like it was designed by a serial killer.
Individual letters were cut and pasted to read the following message:
The one who makes it doesn't use it.
The one who buys it doesn't need it.
The one who uses it doesn't know he's using it.
What is it?
A coffin, Kendall thought as she lit a cigarette and crumpled up the piece of paper.
She should have been scared, but the riddle intrigued her.
She undressed and took a long hot shower.
Various cuts and scratches surfaced as she soaped her damaged skin.
The steam from the water clouded the room.
She exited the bathroom, naked.
Hoping Brody was home, so she might give him a private show.
But the condo was empty.
She nearly slipped on a pile of clay in the kitchen.
In fact it was all over the place, and lead to the front door.
As if it had walked out itself.
She glanced out the front window, but there was nothing.
Kendall cleaned up the mess and threw it in the trash.
She slipped a very short, black mini dress on to her wire thin frame and wore her long hair down.
Her make up was always dark, emphasizing the eyes.
The last accessory of the night, her mothers black diamond wedding ring.
Kendall had claimed most of her mothers belongings, after the death.
Her favorite.
Bruce's fully restored yellow 1966 Lamborghini Miura.
When traveling to Hollywood, one must travel in style.
Kendall was beginning to pick up media attention as a socialite.
Since the Kardashian brand had been demolished, she was working on rebuilding the Jenner name.
This meant, cutting all ties with her previous family and life.
The nightlife never impressed Kendall, but it was something she had to do.
She remembered all the appearances Kim, Khloe, and Kourtney, were forced to attend against their will, because it kept them in the spotlight.
So she club hopped.
And mingled with A-listers.
People took pity on her, because of her predecessors.
Kendall had also gained a fashionable following.
Designers wanted her because she was taboo, but she would refuse their offers.
Another trick Kris taught her.
To leave them wanting more.
Kendall was insatiable.
Which worked to her advantage.
Her lust for carnage had faded since mother Kris's death.
But that didn't mean her appetite for pain was gone.
After the photogs got their shots.
And the clubs closed their doors for the night.
Kendall frequented exclusive after hours clubs.
The entrance to her favorite club was down an empty alley.
The Jokes On You.
The name of the club, spray painted across a brick wall next to the entrance.
The front door was a heavy steel door, similar to the front of a meat locker.
Kendall hated walking the alley, because of all the garbage and junkies twitching about.
But three knocks later she was in.
The club was a mix of middle class punks, and rich S&M fetishists.
The walls were painted black.
Black lights illuminated the graffiti, splashed across them from glow in the dark paint.
Electro goth, house music rocked the club as couples danced and fucked across the floor.
Kendall was a regular, and those who knew better stayed away.
But tonight she hoped to draw blood.
The owner, a sleazy Indian man with a British accent, greeted her with a glass of neon pink champagne.
Kendall accepted it while she was escorted to a private booth.
She lit a cigarette while scanning the crowd.
No one had struck her fancy.
A few newbies had spotted her and tried approaching, but bouncers denied them entrance to the booth.
Kendall noticed a young man.
His resemblance to Dave Price was uncanny.
She left her sanctuary and took him by the hand.
Seducing him on the dance floor, she swayed to the music.
Kendall allowed him to touch her, running his hands down her thigh.
She stopped him before he could touch between her legs.
She reached in for a kiss, biting his bottom lip.
The taste of blood exhilarated her.
Kendall licked the wound and lead him down a hallway to a private room.
Whips and screams echoed down the hall, as the couple passed multiple rooms with upside down numbers on the outside.
She stopped at number thirteen.
Before she could enter she spotted a tall, bald man wearing a translucent mask.
Tattooed on his forehead was a giant question mark.
Using green, glow in the dark paint, he spray painted question marks across the hallways walls.
Kendalls prey opened door thirteen, pulling her inside.
She took one more look at the question mark graffiti artist, but he had gone.
Kendall was no longer in the mood.
She exited room thirteen and searched for the man.
Nowhere to be found, she asked the owner if he had seen him.
But she had seemed to be the only one that had.
Kendall left the club, returning to Brody's condo.
Inside, more clay.
Kendall stormed to Brody's room, for answers, but he was gone.
Sister Kylie wasn't in her bed either.
Sweeping up the clay, she splashed some across her dress.
Kendall furiously tossed it in the trash and slipped the dress off.
Standing in her heels, bra and panties she noticed the garbage convulse.
She watched as it rocked back and forth, before tipping over.
The clay slithered across the floor, toward her.
Kendall jumped on the counter, flinging her shoes at it.
In the door way stood a man.
The clay swam to him, attaching itself to his skin.
The man was shrivelled and continuously pulsed.
Daddy's home, he garbled, stepping into the light.
It was Bruce.
She'd recognize her father anywhere.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Kardashians Vs. The Riddler Part XII: Awakening
Khloe couldn't believe it.
Was it really Kourtney?
How was it possible?
So many questions, yet she feared the answers.
Kourtney was long gone, as Khloe sat staring in shock.
There was no particular emotion.
Just confusion.
Everything felt like a bad dream.
She even pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming.
Khloe began dialing 9-1-1, but lingered on the first number.
How would she explain this to the police?
She wasn't quite sure what had happened and didn't want to jump to any conclusions.
First thing was first.
She rang the Kardashians private doctor who signed Kourtney's death certificate.
Time was no importance to her.
Which threw her for a loop, when the doctors wife answered, and blew her off.
Kholoe wouldn't take this lying down.
So she got in her car and tore through Beverly Hills.
She arrived at the doctors Malibu mansion, hours later.
The family refused to buzz her in, so she pleaded her case with the doctor through their intercom.
The doctor had learned to distance himself from the family, due to other big name clients who looked down on the reality family.
In California, everyone put themselves first, so it was no surprise when he dropped the family from his roster to better his business.
Khloe insisted on the urgency to view Kourtney's file and refused to leave without it.
To avoid the public scrutiny he would no doubt receive if the press arrived, he followed suite by slipping the file through the gate.
Khloe couldn't thank him enough, as she raced home hoping to crack this case.
On her way home, she noticed a police checkpoint.
Police cars stopped oncoming traffic to question passing drivers.
Shining their light in her eyes, they followed protocol.
They explained that a drunk driver had already swerved off the road, leaving tire tracks in the neighborhood.
A DUI check point was set up per the communities request to ensure the safety of others.
Recognizing Khloe, he asked her to step out of the car.
Realizing his arrogance, she refused.
The cop demanded more forcefully, but Khloe hadn't done anything wrong.
She resisted the arrest, which only made things worse.
Taken in to custody, she was forced from her vehicle and thrown against the hood of her car.
The cop patted her down, slightly molesting her in the process, before cuffing her.
They searched the vehicle, as she violently thrashed in the back seat of the police vehicle.
Discrimination, Khloe thought, adding another strike on her imperfect record.
At the station, the police chief exacted his revenge against her tirades.
He was hoping by keeping her in custody that she would finally drop the Riddlers Puzzle case and regain some sort of normality.
But Khloe wasn't taking it lying down.
She had contemplated sharing the information about Kourtney to the police, but realized the family was officially on their own.
So she did what the Kardashians do best.
Bent reality, by acting.
Many hours later, and a hefty bail, Khloe saw the light of day.
She vowed never to return to the station again.
The only people she could depend on, were family.
Gathering her belongings from security she had noticed her file on Khloe was empty.
She argued with the guard who re-checked the storage facility.
Demanding to be heard, she took a stand against the police, but the guard warned her not to cross the chief.
The guard told her to take it up with the boss, then slipped her a matchbook.
It was from The Beverly Hilton.
He nervously closed his window on Khloe before she could ask any questions.
Exiting the station, she followed her instincts to The Beverly Hilton.
She slipped into the bar, which was fairly empty and ordered a vodka martini.
The bartender nodded and disappeared.
In his place stood Richard Hilton, father of the Hiltons drinking a glass of scotch.
Your business is unwelcome here, Rick told her.
Never one to back down, Khloe slapped Kourtney's empty file on the bar, sliding it to him.
I want it back, she chimed, taking the scotch from his hand and drinking from the glass.
I'm afraid I can't help you with that, is all he replied, before Khloe threw the remaining contents in his face.
Sooner or later, I'm going to connect the dots, she snarled storming out of the hotel.
Her drive home, she noticed two black SUV's following far behind her.
She drove in circles, hoping to lose them, but they tailed even closer.
Khloe drove to Mulholland, hoping to outrun them with the twists and turns.
The SUV's didn't maneuver as well.
She sped through the obstacle course, rising higher and higher in the hills.
Adrenaline surged through her body as she peeled around corners, barely missing oncoming traffic.
One of the SUV's became involved in a deadly collision, while the other followed even closer to Khloe.
She had one last trick up her sleeve as she turned a tight corner.
Khloe fish tailed her car at a lookout point racing toward the SUV.
Seconds before the crash she ejected herself from the drivers side door, rolling toward the edge of the hill.
The SUV collided with her BMW, and glided off the road.
It took her a second to regain normal breathing.
The wind had been knocked out of her, and she was shocked to be alive.
She had never done anything like this before.
And wondered who could have been in those SUV's.
Cars stopped to marvel at the crash.
Khloe had to escape before anyone recognized her.
She covered her face with some hair and blended in to the crowd.
She walked along Mulholland toward the first crash.
They extracted a bloody body, she barely recognized.
It was a young boy.
Her brother Rob.
Was it really Kourtney?
How was it possible?
So many questions, yet she feared the answers.
Kourtney was long gone, as Khloe sat staring in shock.
There was no particular emotion.
Just confusion.
Everything felt like a bad dream.
She even pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming.
Khloe began dialing 9-1-1, but lingered on the first number.
How would she explain this to the police?
She wasn't quite sure what had happened and didn't want to jump to any conclusions.
First thing was first.
She rang the Kardashians private doctor who signed Kourtney's death certificate.
Time was no importance to her.
Which threw her for a loop, when the doctors wife answered, and blew her off.
Kholoe wouldn't take this lying down.
So she got in her car and tore through Beverly Hills.
She arrived at the doctors Malibu mansion, hours later.
The family refused to buzz her in, so she pleaded her case with the doctor through their intercom.
The doctor had learned to distance himself from the family, due to other big name clients who looked down on the reality family.
In California, everyone put themselves first, so it was no surprise when he dropped the family from his roster to better his business.
Khloe insisted on the urgency to view Kourtney's file and refused to leave without it.
To avoid the public scrutiny he would no doubt receive if the press arrived, he followed suite by slipping the file through the gate.
Khloe couldn't thank him enough, as she raced home hoping to crack this case.
On her way home, she noticed a police checkpoint.
Police cars stopped oncoming traffic to question passing drivers.
Shining their light in her eyes, they followed protocol.
They explained that a drunk driver had already swerved off the road, leaving tire tracks in the neighborhood.
A DUI check point was set up per the communities request to ensure the safety of others.
Recognizing Khloe, he asked her to step out of the car.
Realizing his arrogance, she refused.
The cop demanded more forcefully, but Khloe hadn't done anything wrong.
She resisted the arrest, which only made things worse.
Taken in to custody, she was forced from her vehicle and thrown against the hood of her car.
The cop patted her down, slightly molesting her in the process, before cuffing her.
They searched the vehicle, as she violently thrashed in the back seat of the police vehicle.
Discrimination, Khloe thought, adding another strike on her imperfect record.
At the station, the police chief exacted his revenge against her tirades.
He was hoping by keeping her in custody that she would finally drop the Riddlers Puzzle case and regain some sort of normality.
But Khloe wasn't taking it lying down.
She had contemplated sharing the information about Kourtney to the police, but realized the family was officially on their own.
So she did what the Kardashians do best.
Bent reality, by acting.
Many hours later, and a hefty bail, Khloe saw the light of day.
She vowed never to return to the station again.
The only people she could depend on, were family.
Gathering her belongings from security she had noticed her file on Khloe was empty.
She argued with the guard who re-checked the storage facility.
Demanding to be heard, she took a stand against the police, but the guard warned her not to cross the chief.
The guard told her to take it up with the boss, then slipped her a matchbook.
It was from The Beverly Hilton.
He nervously closed his window on Khloe before she could ask any questions.
Exiting the station, she followed her instincts to The Beverly Hilton.
She slipped into the bar, which was fairly empty and ordered a vodka martini.
The bartender nodded and disappeared.
In his place stood Richard Hilton, father of the Hiltons drinking a glass of scotch.
Your business is unwelcome here, Rick told her.
Never one to back down, Khloe slapped Kourtney's empty file on the bar, sliding it to him.
I want it back, she chimed, taking the scotch from his hand and drinking from the glass.
I'm afraid I can't help you with that, is all he replied, before Khloe threw the remaining contents in his face.
Sooner or later, I'm going to connect the dots, she snarled storming out of the hotel.
Her drive home, she noticed two black SUV's following far behind her.
She drove in circles, hoping to lose them, but they tailed even closer.
Khloe drove to Mulholland, hoping to outrun them with the twists and turns.
The SUV's didn't maneuver as well.
She sped through the obstacle course, rising higher and higher in the hills.
Adrenaline surged through her body as she peeled around corners, barely missing oncoming traffic.
One of the SUV's became involved in a deadly collision, while the other followed even closer to Khloe.
She had one last trick up her sleeve as she turned a tight corner.
Khloe fish tailed her car at a lookout point racing toward the SUV.
Seconds before the crash she ejected herself from the drivers side door, rolling toward the edge of the hill.
The SUV collided with her BMW, and glided off the road.
It took her a second to regain normal breathing.
The wind had been knocked out of her, and she was shocked to be alive.
She had never done anything like this before.
And wondered who could have been in those SUV's.
Cars stopped to marvel at the crash.
Khloe had to escape before anyone recognized her.
She covered her face with some hair and blended in to the crowd.
She walked along Mulholland toward the first crash.
They extracted a bloody body, she barely recognized.
It was a young boy.
Her brother Rob.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Kardashians Vs. The Riddler Part XI: My Humph
To Kris Humphries Kardashian, Kim was the most beautiful and expensive thing he had acquired since he was drafted into the NBA.
Proposing to her wasn't an act of romance, but a stint for more popularity.
Being from Minnesota he wasn't used to the glitz and glamour.
But his father, William Humphries, pushed him into it, anyway.
Kris's mother Debra was a simple Midwestern mom, while father William was the male equivalent to momma Kardashian.
Any opportunity he got, William shoved his son into the spotlight.
It was fate that Kris had met Kim.
And to William, their family had just won the jackpot.
Little did he know, that marrying into the Kardashian clan, was like marrying into the mob.
William had arranged for Kris to propose to Kim while walking on a Malibu beach, just as the sun set.
The ring was a past, present, future diamond ring.
Fit for a queen.
And sure to melt America's hearts on the cover of US Weekly.
William tipped off a few dozen paparazzi to capture the moment.
And awaited the good news.
Hours later, he was contacted by a personal assistant.
The informed him that his son Kris was in fact engaged, and that from here on out, would be represented by Kris Kardashian.
The engagement ring was returned to the Humphries.
There was no word from Kris.
Days later, with no contact from their son, the Humphries were alerted of the happy couples union.
And like everyone in America, had to read about it by purchasing the latest People magazine.
Instead of a beach side proposal, there were rose pedals, and mini ponies.
And the measly past, present and future ring, was replaced with a twenty karat diamond.
Son Kris, had conformed to the Kardashian way.
And mother Kris, had put out a media hit on the Humphries to make sure they stayed out of their empire.
The Humphries hadn't seen their son since, their faux engagement.
And were presented with wedding invitations, that included extensive contracts.
The Kardashians, wanted everything to be perfect for their golden child's wedding.
Which meant, keeping the guests, under control.
The Humphries guest list was limited and carefully plotted.
In order to attend, the family had to sign their rights away.
And become puppets to the Kardashians will.
In the end the Humphries did as they were told.
Because neither wanted to feel the financial wrath that would plague their household if they refused.
So they sealed the letter with a kiss, and said good bye to Kris on his wedding day.
He too signed a contract, along with his pre-nup of a list of do's and dont's penned by queen Kris Kardashian Jenner.
Among these requests were the obvious.
1. Never cheat. If you cheat, we will ruin you.
2. Keep up with appearances. You only get three get out of jail free cards a year. Merry Christmas.
3. Act your ass off. Even if you have nothing to say.
4. Never outshine Kim.
5. Wear a condom. If you don't, I will personally castrate you. Kim will have children at 34.
6. Never air your dirty laundry in public without running it past me first. That's what the camera's for.
7. Welcome to the family.
So the happy couple left for a honeymoon, that husband Kris supposedly planned, but was realistically payed for by mother Kris.
Anytime they were intimate, Kris couldn't help but associate his name with his new mother in laws.
It was hard for him to make love to Kim's beautiful body, because he could only see Kris Jenner Kardasians face.
Upon their return to the states, Kim received the call that changed their life.
Kris Jenner Kardashians funeral was a two hour televised event.
And E! Entertainements highest rated episode ever.
The family mourned for days, hoping to make sense of the tragedy.
Since Kris was a new addition to the family, he was left on the outside, looking in.
He did his best to comfort Kim, and smother her with love.
But this only pushed her further away.
There was only one Kris in her life now, and it was obvious which one she loved more.
One year, and a tragic suicide later...
Kris had found ways to keep himself busy.
Married life was not what he expected.
And neither was life with Kim.
She was her mothers daughter, and had tried to control the empire.
In doing so, she sabotaged her relationship.
A desperate cry for attention, Kris publicly broke all of Kris's contracted rule, except number 5.
In fact, he hadn't touched Kim in almost a year.
Neither wanted anything to do with one another.
So he spent his free time visiting strip clubs and working out.
His career with the NBA was hanging by a thread, and he made sure to endorse any or all products to make a quick buck.
During Kourtney's institutional stints, he tried reaching out to his parents, but they were no where to be found.
Black listed.
It was Kris Jenner Kardashians, final kiss of death.
The family had fallen off the radar.
Officially separated, Kris found comfort in lithium laced protein shakes, or crushed up Vicotin.
He occasionally partied with Rob Kardashian at Lindsay Lohan's, knowing she had the best drugs.
Kris was living separate from Kim.
She occupied their Beverly Hills mansion, while he sublet a West Hollywood condo.
It didn't have much.
There was minimal furniture, an X-Box, Playstation 3 and Wii.
He had an extra bedroom that he filled with exercise equipment.
It was his off season, which meant finding as much work as possible.
Kris found, the more he had contractually, the faster his days went.
He had hated coming home to his near empty condo.
Most nights were spent getting high or drinking until he blacked out.
Until one particular night.
Kris had been out jogging to clear his head.
Nothing was particularly out of the ordinary, until he noticed his front door was unlocked.
A green bee crawled out of the key hole and on to his hand.
He flicked it to the ground, and stepped on it.
Green ooze dripped from under his sneaker.
He pushed the door open and entered.
A few more of the same bees buzzed near his head.
He entered the kitchen, and armed himself with a bottle of Raid.
Killing the green vermin, Kris crept through the apartment anticipating vandals.
His shoes squished as they stuck to the ground.
He realized it was honey.
More green bees lined the outside of his bedroom door.
Pissed, he sprayed the insects until they dropped dead.
Placing an ear to the door, he listened to a calming hum, from the other side.
Arming the Raid, he kicked the door in and dropped the can.
Inside were thousands of bees zipping through the air.
On his bed lied a half naked Kim.
Her skin was covered in honey and her lips were black.
Bee's covered her body as she lied sensually staring back at Kris.
Don't move, Kris warned Kim, reaching for the Raid.
But Kim remained calm and statuesque.
Kris began spraying, but Kim was not amused.
She rose gracefully and slinked toward Kris.
The bee's detached from her body as she approached him.
What's happened? Kris quelled.
But Kim, calmly ran her fingers across his cheek, leaning in for a kiss.
She clenched the hair on the back of his head while firmly embracing him.
Kris trembled, but Kim wanted more.
Honey dripped from their lips as bee's swarmed the couple.
His screams were muffled as bees shot in to his mouth, choking him.
Kim pulled away allowing her worker bees to finish the job.
Kris dropped dead, at her feet.
The bees began devouring his corpse.
Kim lied back on the bed allowing the bees to cover her body.
Who's next, she thought, as a smile crossed her dead expressionless face.
Proposing to her wasn't an act of romance, but a stint for more popularity.
Being from Minnesota he wasn't used to the glitz and glamour.
But his father, William Humphries, pushed him into it, anyway.
Kris's mother Debra was a simple Midwestern mom, while father William was the male equivalent to momma Kardashian.
Any opportunity he got, William shoved his son into the spotlight.
It was fate that Kris had met Kim.
And to William, their family had just won the jackpot.
Little did he know, that marrying into the Kardashian clan, was like marrying into the mob.
William had arranged for Kris to propose to Kim while walking on a Malibu beach, just as the sun set.
The ring was a past, present, future diamond ring.
Fit for a queen.
And sure to melt America's hearts on the cover of US Weekly.
William tipped off a few dozen paparazzi to capture the moment.
And awaited the good news.
Hours later, he was contacted by a personal assistant.
The informed him that his son Kris was in fact engaged, and that from here on out, would be represented by Kris Kardashian.
The engagement ring was returned to the Humphries.
There was no word from Kris.
Days later, with no contact from their son, the Humphries were alerted of the happy couples union.
And like everyone in America, had to read about it by purchasing the latest People magazine.
Instead of a beach side proposal, there were rose pedals, and mini ponies.
And the measly past, present and future ring, was replaced with a twenty karat diamond.
Son Kris, had conformed to the Kardashian way.
And mother Kris, had put out a media hit on the Humphries to make sure they stayed out of their empire.
The Humphries hadn't seen their son since, their faux engagement.
And were presented with wedding invitations, that included extensive contracts.
The Kardashians, wanted everything to be perfect for their golden child's wedding.
Which meant, keeping the guests, under control.
The Humphries guest list was limited and carefully plotted.
In order to attend, the family had to sign their rights away.
And become puppets to the Kardashians will.
In the end the Humphries did as they were told.
Because neither wanted to feel the financial wrath that would plague their household if they refused.
So they sealed the letter with a kiss, and said good bye to Kris on his wedding day.
He too signed a contract, along with his pre-nup of a list of do's and dont's penned by queen Kris Kardashian Jenner.
Among these requests were the obvious.
1. Never cheat. If you cheat, we will ruin you.
2. Keep up with appearances. You only get three get out of jail free cards a year. Merry Christmas.
3. Act your ass off. Even if you have nothing to say.
4. Never outshine Kim.
5. Wear a condom. If you don't, I will personally castrate you. Kim will have children at 34.
6. Never air your dirty laundry in public without running it past me first. That's what the camera's for.
7. Welcome to the family.
So the happy couple left for a honeymoon, that husband Kris supposedly planned, but was realistically payed for by mother Kris.
Anytime they were intimate, Kris couldn't help but associate his name with his new mother in laws.
It was hard for him to make love to Kim's beautiful body, because he could only see Kris Jenner Kardasians face.
Upon their return to the states, Kim received the call that changed their life.
Kris Jenner Kardashians funeral was a two hour televised event.
And E! Entertainements highest rated episode ever.
The family mourned for days, hoping to make sense of the tragedy.
Since Kris was a new addition to the family, he was left on the outside, looking in.
He did his best to comfort Kim, and smother her with love.
But this only pushed her further away.
There was only one Kris in her life now, and it was obvious which one she loved more.
One year, and a tragic suicide later...
Kris had found ways to keep himself busy.
Married life was not what he expected.
And neither was life with Kim.
She was her mothers daughter, and had tried to control the empire.
In doing so, she sabotaged her relationship.
A desperate cry for attention, Kris publicly broke all of Kris's contracted rule, except number 5.
In fact, he hadn't touched Kim in almost a year.
Neither wanted anything to do with one another.
So he spent his free time visiting strip clubs and working out.
His career with the NBA was hanging by a thread, and he made sure to endorse any or all products to make a quick buck.
During Kourtney's institutional stints, he tried reaching out to his parents, but they were no where to be found.
Black listed.
It was Kris Jenner Kardashians, final kiss of death.
The family had fallen off the radar.
Officially separated, Kris found comfort in lithium laced protein shakes, or crushed up Vicotin.
He occasionally partied with Rob Kardashian at Lindsay Lohan's, knowing she had the best drugs.
Kris was living separate from Kim.
She occupied their Beverly Hills mansion, while he sublet a West Hollywood condo.
It didn't have much.
There was minimal furniture, an X-Box, Playstation 3 and Wii.
He had an extra bedroom that he filled with exercise equipment.
It was his off season, which meant finding as much work as possible.
Kris found, the more he had contractually, the faster his days went.
He had hated coming home to his near empty condo.
Most nights were spent getting high or drinking until he blacked out.
Until one particular night.
Kris had been out jogging to clear his head.
Nothing was particularly out of the ordinary, until he noticed his front door was unlocked.
A green bee crawled out of the key hole and on to his hand.
He flicked it to the ground, and stepped on it.
Green ooze dripped from under his sneaker.
He pushed the door open and entered.
A few more of the same bees buzzed near his head.
He entered the kitchen, and armed himself with a bottle of Raid.
Killing the green vermin, Kris crept through the apartment anticipating vandals.
His shoes squished as they stuck to the ground.
He realized it was honey.
More green bees lined the outside of his bedroom door.
Pissed, he sprayed the insects until they dropped dead.
Placing an ear to the door, he listened to a calming hum, from the other side.
Arming the Raid, he kicked the door in and dropped the can.
Inside were thousands of bees zipping through the air.
On his bed lied a half naked Kim.
Her skin was covered in honey and her lips were black.
Bee's covered her body as she lied sensually staring back at Kris.
Don't move, Kris warned Kim, reaching for the Raid.
But Kim remained calm and statuesque.
Kris began spraying, but Kim was not amused.
She rose gracefully and slinked toward Kris.
The bee's detached from her body as she approached him.
What's happened? Kris quelled.
But Kim, calmly ran her fingers across his cheek, leaning in for a kiss.
She clenched the hair on the back of his head while firmly embracing him.
Kris trembled, but Kim wanted more.
Honey dripped from their lips as bee's swarmed the couple.
His screams were muffled as bees shot in to his mouth, choking him.
Kim pulled away allowing her worker bees to finish the job.
Kris dropped dead, at her feet.
The bees began devouring his corpse.
Kim lied back on the bed allowing the bees to cover her body.
Who's next, she thought, as a smile crossed her dead expressionless face.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Kardashians Vs. The Riddler Part X: Baby Chick
In order of importance, the Kardashian girls were as follows:
1. Kim -For her good looks and popularity.
2. Khloe -For her abrasive verbal diarrhea
3. Kourtney -For her blunt, opinionated views.
4. Kendall - For her edgy and up and coming style.
5. Kylie - ???
Yes, Kylie Jenner.
An unofficial Kardashian, was born too little, too late.
While her older sister Kendall began conforming to the Kardashian lifestyle, Kylie faded into oblivion.
While posing for pictures with the royal family on the red carpet, Kylie was always cropped out of a photo or axed from the shot.
Nobody would pay to get a shot of Kylie, because she wasn't particularly memorable.
The reality show was called Keeping Up With The Kardashians.
Which meant the Jenners took back seat to most of the circus.
The older Kylie got, the easier she found it to disappear.
She became self reliant, and hung out with her best friend Ronnie.
He shared many secrets with her.
And riddled her with intrigue.
Every day was a new adventure.
Ronnie opened her eyes to a world, outside Calabasas.
One afternoon Ronnie had revealed a secret panel in the back of Kylie's walk in closet.
She carved around the outside of a door that had been painted over.
Behind it she discovered secret passages within the walls to the Kardashian/Jenner house, which she followed to a series of underground tunnels.
The tunnels were in rough shape, due to the earth shifting from earthquakes over the years.
Only a girl the size of Kylie Jenner could maneuver through the small openings.
With Ronnie's help, she explored and mapped the entire system, declaring it Monde Sinistre.
The sinister world.
It was a place she could escape.
The world above was much too blase.
So she created her own.
Most of the tunnels ran through the neighborhood.
The only other opening was near the private gate, that closed off the world from Hidden Hills.
The community where the Kardashian-Jenner house stood.
Kylie would spend days, sometimes even weeks in Monde Sinistre, building an underground home.
Per Ronnie's request.
She was content.
And disappeared almost completely.
Until Rob was plagued with curiosity.
Kylie hadn't spoken to her brother in months.
But there he was, digging through her belongings.
She was surprised to find him in her room, after exiting her hiding place.
Usually it was Bruce who would sniff around.
Checking on her needs.
But she was a simple child.
And had never asked for anything.
She would make occasional public appearances to avoid any conflict.
But nine times out of ten, the family was too busy to worry.
This particular day, Rob had grown desperate for cash.
And remembered his secret hiding spot.
He always had anxiety around money.
And learned to hide it all through the house.
His favorite hiding spots were usually within toys and dolls stashed away in Kylie's room.
This did not please Kylie.
It was one thing for the family to snub her.
But another for her belongings to be rifled.
She had become used to the privilege of being anonymous.
Kylie hadn't known about his hiding spots.
And when she emerged from her walk in, assumed he was spying on her.
She approached him.
But this angered Rob.
Everyone seemed to have secrets, and this was his.
He didn't want the family to know about his small fortune.
Just like Kylie hadn't wanted the family to see Mondo Sinistre.
Anger.
An emotion Kylie hadn't felt before.
It crackled inside her, as she confronted Rob.
Usually he would have dismissed her.
Looking straight through her.
But this time he locked eyes with Kylie.
Part of her spirit died, as she was finally noticed.
It cut through her like a knife.
She finally realized she hadn't wanted to be seen.
And was getting unwanted attention.
Kris Jenner entered the room, followed by Bruce and the camera crew.
Exposing Robs secret.
The blinding light from the crew, caused her body to shut down.
Kylie fainted.
When she awoke, she was in the living room, with a cold wash cloth on her forehead.
In front of her the family stared, while E! Entertainment profited from her tragedy.
Kris Jenner cradled Kylie in her arms and showered her with love.
Fear filled her as she shyed away from the camera.
Kris yelled Cut!
The crew followed her instructions.
Mother Kardashian explained to Kylie, the severity of the shot.
She set up a scenario of the mother hen, tending to her baby chick.
Kylie knew she had to play along, or forever be involved.
So the camera crew rolled film and got the shot in the can.
Everyone quickly forgot all about Kylie.
But it was Rob, who never forgot the occurrence.
She was constantly on his radar.
And it had become harder to disappear for days on end.
She turned to Ronnie for advice.
But he too had completely abandoned her.
Mondo Sinistre started to look more like the world above.
Kylie no longer enjoyed disappearing.
So she began sleeping in her own bed again.
And interacting with the family.
She had started to become more prevalent as her half sisters partook in their own spin off shows.
The time came when she had completely forgotten about her secret underground world.
Until one one night, Ronnie had returned.
But he was not the same man she had remembered.
Kylie was much older since she saw Ronnie.
No longer was he the stumpy, eccentric, kind, play friend.
He had evolved into a darker being.
A tall, wiry, thin man who hid his face from her with a translucent mask.
Ronnie was bald, which showcased a giant green question mark.
Kylie hardly recognized him, but remembered his deep, raspy voice.
He explained that he had been hiding, since her debut.
And had devised a plan to rescue her from her prison.
Afraid, Kylie refused.
But Ronnie refused to take no for an answer.
He insisted, by claiming she had become brainwashed.
But Kylie felt fine.
Her childhood friend had started to frighten her.
Ronnie, gave her one more chance to settle the score.
But Kylie was no longer tied to the man.
So he dissapeared.
This delighted Kylie.
Until he returned, leaving his calling card.
During the day it was invisible.
Once night arrived it was as clear as day.
A glow in the dark question mark had been spray painted on Kylie's cieling.
To remind her of whats to come.
1. Kim -For her good looks and popularity.
2. Khloe -For her abrasive verbal diarrhea
3. Kourtney -For her blunt, opinionated views.
4. Kendall - For her edgy and up and coming style.
5. Kylie - ???
Yes, Kylie Jenner.
An unofficial Kardashian, was born too little, too late.
While her older sister Kendall began conforming to the Kardashian lifestyle, Kylie faded into oblivion.
While posing for pictures with the royal family on the red carpet, Kylie was always cropped out of a photo or axed from the shot.
Nobody would pay to get a shot of Kylie, because she wasn't particularly memorable.
The reality show was called Keeping Up With The Kardashians.
Which meant the Jenners took back seat to most of the circus.
The older Kylie got, the easier she found it to disappear.
She became self reliant, and hung out with her best friend Ronnie.
He shared many secrets with her.
And riddled her with intrigue.
Every day was a new adventure.
Ronnie opened her eyes to a world, outside Calabasas.
One afternoon Ronnie had revealed a secret panel in the back of Kylie's walk in closet.
She carved around the outside of a door that had been painted over.
Behind it she discovered secret passages within the walls to the Kardashian/Jenner house, which she followed to a series of underground tunnels.
The tunnels were in rough shape, due to the earth shifting from earthquakes over the years.
Only a girl the size of Kylie Jenner could maneuver through the small openings.
With Ronnie's help, she explored and mapped the entire system, declaring it Monde Sinistre.
The sinister world.
It was a place she could escape.
The world above was much too blase.
So she created her own.
Most of the tunnels ran through the neighborhood.
The only other opening was near the private gate, that closed off the world from Hidden Hills.
The community where the Kardashian-Jenner house stood.
Kylie would spend days, sometimes even weeks in Monde Sinistre, building an underground home.
Per Ronnie's request.
She was content.
And disappeared almost completely.
Until Rob was plagued with curiosity.
Kylie hadn't spoken to her brother in months.
But there he was, digging through her belongings.
She was surprised to find him in her room, after exiting her hiding place.
Usually it was Bruce who would sniff around.
Checking on her needs.
But she was a simple child.
And had never asked for anything.
She would make occasional public appearances to avoid any conflict.
But nine times out of ten, the family was too busy to worry.
This particular day, Rob had grown desperate for cash.
And remembered his secret hiding spot.
He always had anxiety around money.
And learned to hide it all through the house.
His favorite hiding spots were usually within toys and dolls stashed away in Kylie's room.
This did not please Kylie.
It was one thing for the family to snub her.
But another for her belongings to be rifled.
She had become used to the privilege of being anonymous.
Kylie hadn't known about his hiding spots.
And when she emerged from her walk in, assumed he was spying on her.
She approached him.
But this angered Rob.
Everyone seemed to have secrets, and this was his.
He didn't want the family to know about his small fortune.
Just like Kylie hadn't wanted the family to see Mondo Sinistre.
Anger.
An emotion Kylie hadn't felt before.
It crackled inside her, as she confronted Rob.
Usually he would have dismissed her.
Looking straight through her.
But this time he locked eyes with Kylie.
Part of her spirit died, as she was finally noticed.
It cut through her like a knife.
She finally realized she hadn't wanted to be seen.
And was getting unwanted attention.
Kris Jenner entered the room, followed by Bruce and the camera crew.
Exposing Robs secret.
The blinding light from the crew, caused her body to shut down.
Kylie fainted.
When she awoke, she was in the living room, with a cold wash cloth on her forehead.
In front of her the family stared, while E! Entertainment profited from her tragedy.
Kris Jenner cradled Kylie in her arms and showered her with love.
Fear filled her as she shyed away from the camera.
Kris yelled Cut!
The crew followed her instructions.
Mother Kardashian explained to Kylie, the severity of the shot.
She set up a scenario of the mother hen, tending to her baby chick.
Kylie knew she had to play along, or forever be involved.
So the camera crew rolled film and got the shot in the can.
Everyone quickly forgot all about Kylie.
But it was Rob, who never forgot the occurrence.
She was constantly on his radar.
And it had become harder to disappear for days on end.
She turned to Ronnie for advice.
But he too had completely abandoned her.
Mondo Sinistre started to look more like the world above.
Kylie no longer enjoyed disappearing.
So she began sleeping in her own bed again.
And interacting with the family.
She had started to become more prevalent as her half sisters partook in their own spin off shows.
The time came when she had completely forgotten about her secret underground world.
Until one one night, Ronnie had returned.
But he was not the same man she had remembered.
Kylie was much older since she saw Ronnie.
No longer was he the stumpy, eccentric, kind, play friend.
He had evolved into a darker being.
A tall, wiry, thin man who hid his face from her with a translucent mask.
Ronnie was bald, which showcased a giant green question mark.
Kylie hardly recognized him, but remembered his deep, raspy voice.
He explained that he had been hiding, since her debut.
And had devised a plan to rescue her from her prison.
Afraid, Kylie refused.
But Ronnie refused to take no for an answer.
He insisted, by claiming she had become brainwashed.
But Kylie felt fine.
Her childhood friend had started to frighten her.
Ronnie, gave her one more chance to settle the score.
But Kylie was no longer tied to the man.
So he dissapeared.
This delighted Kylie.
Until he returned, leaving his calling card.
During the day it was invisible.
Once night arrived it was as clear as day.
A glow in the dark question mark had been spray painted on Kylie's cieling.
To remind her of whats to come.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Kardashians Vs. The Riddler Part IX: Kitty Kat
It was dark and cold where Kourtney Kardashian rested.
Her heart, reanimated from a sting of stray cats.
For two whole days, her body lay at rest.
The time it took, to kick start back into action.
When she opened her eyes, she realized she was resting in a body bag.
Clothed in a white silk dress.
She tried to get out, but her body was locked in a cooling unit.
A dry murmur escaped her throat, but no one could hear her.
And her vocal chords needed warming up.
Kourtney ripped the zippered bag open, pushing on the door above her head.
The tiny fridge door blew open, allowing Kourtney to crawl out.
She collapsed to the ground, violently shaking.
Her muscles pulsed and flexed.
She began to feel a surge inside her like none other.
Her fingernails had significantly grown over the past couple days.
And all her bruising and scars had disappeared.
Her blood quickly warmed up her icy body.
Her stomach twisted and howled.
She needed to eat.
Jumping to her feet, Kourtney felt her muscle mass increasing.
Footsteps, clacked in her ears.
Keys jingled.
Kourtney's ears were violated with mariachi music.
The smell of tuna permeated the room.
Outside the morgue, someone approached.
Kourtney hid inside a closet.
She watched, through a crack, as a janitor entered the room.
He stuffed his face with a sandwich, while listening to a Walkman.
With his back to her, she escaped the morgue.
A man and woman's voice echoed through the hospital hallway.
Kourtney bolted toward an elevator.
The button illuminated the top floor and counted down to the basement.
She waited.
The voices sounded like megaphones.
She spotted an emergency exit, and bolted
Two doctors exited the elevator.
It was unusually rainy and cold for California.
The drops thudded hard against the pavement, deafening Kourtney.
She ran through the streets.
Covering her face.
Screaming.
She couldn't remember anything.
Not her name.
Not the family.
The baby.
Least of all, the suicide.
The only thing she could remember, was her home.
She raced through the streets and jumped into a cab.
The old Jamaican cabbie, demanded she get out.
But Kourtney snapped.
She punched through the divider, smashing it to pieces.
Blood trickled down her fist as she grabbed the cabbie's throat.
She smashed his head against the drivers side window, knocking him unconscious.
Rolling his body out into the street, Kourtney took control of the car.
Driving it toward her memories.
She arrived at her Beverly Hills condo, unsure of its significance.
The front door was locked, but the balcony window was wide open.
Kourtney crouched into a lioness position and sprung herself to the balcony.
Her nails provided grip as she dug them into the building, pulling herself to safety.
Her ears perked up, by the sound of heavy snorting.
She focused in on the noise and spotted Scott Dislik.
In white silk boxer shorts, he did lines of coke off a blond girls ass.
Kourtney approached the couple, soaked to the bone.
Coked out of her mind, the blond turned to Kourtney and smiled.
Kourtney stared emotionless.
Coked out of his mind, Scott fell backwards and hit his head on a coffee table.
He cursed at her.
Thinking she was a zombie.
The blond, erupted into laughter.
Kourtney snapped her neck.
Scott began to cry, pleading for forgiveness.
But Kourtney had no significant memories of Scott.
She cased the bedroom, hoping to learn something.
She stopped on a framed picture of her with Mason.
Suddenly her own reflection caught her eye.
Painful memories of Mason flooded her, causing her to smash the frame.
Scott used this time to try and take her out, but she had gained the strength of ten mothers.
Kourtney slit his throat with a piece of broken glass,
He collapsed to the floor in agony.
A cell phone vibrated under the bed.
This alarmed, Kourtney, who pawed through miscellaneous junk before catching the buzzing phone.
It was a text from Unknown.
It read: As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives,
Each wife had seven sacks.
Each sack had seven cats.
Each cat had seven kits.
Kits, cats, sacks and wives,
How many were going to St. Ives?
Kourtney had no clue what the underlining message was.
She only felt a cold shudder.
Instinctively, she scrolled through the contacts, stopping on Kim.
She dialed.
Hello? Kim answered, but Kourtney couldn't speak.
She wondered who this woman was, and hoped to make sense of these memories.
Unfortunately, Scott was still alive.
He grabbed hold of Kourtney's foot, startling her.
She screamed, kicking his head, clean off.
He was dead now.
She returned to the phone, but the call had been dropped.
Her instincts scrolled to Rob.
No answer.
She had decided to seek out these mysterious contacts by following the addresses listed under their names.
First Kim.
The cab was less discreet, so she took Scott's car.
Google maps lead her toward Kim's Beverly Hills Mansion, which was close to the condo.
She had noticed a tall amazon girl, with similar appearances enter the mansion with trepidation.
Kourtney wasn't going to take any chances.
She crept toward the mansion.
Using her new claws, she learned she could climb the side of the building.
Smashing a window, Kourtney entered the house.
Some excess glass, stuck to Kourtney's bare feet.
Blood slowly trickled across the wood floor, leaving foot prints behind.
Kourtney desperately searched the room for any signs of life.
She tried dialing Kim to see if this was her residence, but instead, called Khloe by accident.
Gimme Gimme Gimme by Abba screeched from Khloe's phone, in the next room.
Kourtney, lept to the window.
Slipping on some blood.
She exited, as Khloe entered.
Kourtney shimmied down the drain pipe, hitting the ground hard with her bare feet.
A bat was launched at her head.
Missing her by an inch.
Somehow her instincts alarmed her it was coming before it was thrown.
Kourtney glanced at her attacker, spotting Khloe.
They shared an exchange.
Shock on Khloe's face.
Anger on Kourtney's.
She ran, chucking the phone into some bushes.
Disappearing into the night.
Kourtney knew she couldn't return to the condo.
And she certainly couldn't rely on others to help her with the answers.
So she wandered.
Following the cat calls from dozens of strays.
Kourtney found her feline friends coming and going from an old mansion on the outskirts of West Hollywood.
The building was covered in thick vines, and looked like something from a horror flick.
On the porch, sat an old woman in a rocking chair.
Hundreds of cats, cuddled up to her as she silently stared at nothing.
Kourtney approached her.
Who's there? The old woman cried out.
But Kourtney quietly studied her.
Cats lept from her lap, as the woman reached for her cane.
She rose, revealing to Kourtney that she was blind.
Kourtney watched as the old woman tried finding her way back inside.
Pity washed over her, as she approached the crony.
The woman swung her cane at Kourtney, striking her leg.
What do you want? The woman hissed.
Instantly, the cats left the old woman's side, and tended to Kourtney's wound, lapping the blood up.
The woman's nose twitched, as she sniffed the air.
Come here, she demanded.
Kourtney approached the woman.
She, ran her fingers along Kourtney's face.
She sniffed her neck, and tasted her blood from the wound she inflicted.
The old woman purred, leading Kourtney into the house.
Kourtney resisted.
Come, now kitty, the old woman insisted.
You're my sister now.
Her heart, reanimated from a sting of stray cats.
For two whole days, her body lay at rest.
The time it took, to kick start back into action.
When she opened her eyes, she realized she was resting in a body bag.
Clothed in a white silk dress.
She tried to get out, but her body was locked in a cooling unit.
A dry murmur escaped her throat, but no one could hear her.
And her vocal chords needed warming up.
Kourtney ripped the zippered bag open, pushing on the door above her head.
The tiny fridge door blew open, allowing Kourtney to crawl out.
She collapsed to the ground, violently shaking.
Her muscles pulsed and flexed.
She began to feel a surge inside her like none other.
Her fingernails had significantly grown over the past couple days.
And all her bruising and scars had disappeared.
Her blood quickly warmed up her icy body.
Her stomach twisted and howled.
She needed to eat.
Jumping to her feet, Kourtney felt her muscle mass increasing.
Footsteps, clacked in her ears.
Keys jingled.
Kourtney's ears were violated with mariachi music.
The smell of tuna permeated the room.
Outside the morgue, someone approached.
Kourtney hid inside a closet.
She watched, through a crack, as a janitor entered the room.
He stuffed his face with a sandwich, while listening to a Walkman.
With his back to her, she escaped the morgue.
A man and woman's voice echoed through the hospital hallway.
Kourtney bolted toward an elevator.
The button illuminated the top floor and counted down to the basement.
She waited.
The voices sounded like megaphones.
She spotted an emergency exit, and bolted
Two doctors exited the elevator.
It was unusually rainy and cold for California.
The drops thudded hard against the pavement, deafening Kourtney.
She ran through the streets.
Covering her face.
Screaming.
She couldn't remember anything.
Not her name.
Not the family.
The baby.
Least of all, the suicide.
The only thing she could remember, was her home.
She raced through the streets and jumped into a cab.
The old Jamaican cabbie, demanded she get out.
But Kourtney snapped.
She punched through the divider, smashing it to pieces.
Blood trickled down her fist as she grabbed the cabbie's throat.
She smashed his head against the drivers side window, knocking him unconscious.
Rolling his body out into the street, Kourtney took control of the car.
Driving it toward her memories.
She arrived at her Beverly Hills condo, unsure of its significance.
The front door was locked, but the balcony window was wide open.
Kourtney crouched into a lioness position and sprung herself to the balcony.
Her nails provided grip as she dug them into the building, pulling herself to safety.
Her ears perked up, by the sound of heavy snorting.
She focused in on the noise and spotted Scott Dislik.
In white silk boxer shorts, he did lines of coke off a blond girls ass.
Kourtney approached the couple, soaked to the bone.
Coked out of her mind, the blond turned to Kourtney and smiled.
Kourtney stared emotionless.
Coked out of his mind, Scott fell backwards and hit his head on a coffee table.
He cursed at her.
Thinking she was a zombie.
The blond, erupted into laughter.
Kourtney snapped her neck.
Scott began to cry, pleading for forgiveness.
But Kourtney had no significant memories of Scott.
She cased the bedroom, hoping to learn something.
She stopped on a framed picture of her with Mason.
Suddenly her own reflection caught her eye.
Painful memories of Mason flooded her, causing her to smash the frame.
Scott used this time to try and take her out, but she had gained the strength of ten mothers.
Kourtney slit his throat with a piece of broken glass,
He collapsed to the floor in agony.
A cell phone vibrated under the bed.
This alarmed, Kourtney, who pawed through miscellaneous junk before catching the buzzing phone.
It was a text from Unknown.
It read: As I was going to St. Ives,
I met a man with seven wives,
Each wife had seven sacks.
Each sack had seven cats.
Each cat had seven kits.
Kits, cats, sacks and wives,
How many were going to St. Ives?
Kourtney had no clue what the underlining message was.
She only felt a cold shudder.
Instinctively, she scrolled through the contacts, stopping on Kim.
She dialed.
Hello? Kim answered, but Kourtney couldn't speak.
She wondered who this woman was, and hoped to make sense of these memories.
Unfortunately, Scott was still alive.
He grabbed hold of Kourtney's foot, startling her.
She screamed, kicking his head, clean off.
He was dead now.
She returned to the phone, but the call had been dropped.
Her instincts scrolled to Rob.
No answer.
She had decided to seek out these mysterious contacts by following the addresses listed under their names.
First Kim.
The cab was less discreet, so she took Scott's car.
Google maps lead her toward Kim's Beverly Hills Mansion, which was close to the condo.
She had noticed a tall amazon girl, with similar appearances enter the mansion with trepidation.
Kourtney wasn't going to take any chances.
She crept toward the mansion.
Using her new claws, she learned she could climb the side of the building.
Smashing a window, Kourtney entered the house.
Some excess glass, stuck to Kourtney's bare feet.
Blood slowly trickled across the wood floor, leaving foot prints behind.
Kourtney desperately searched the room for any signs of life.
She tried dialing Kim to see if this was her residence, but instead, called Khloe by accident.
Gimme Gimme Gimme by Abba screeched from Khloe's phone, in the next room.
Kourtney, lept to the window.
Slipping on some blood.
She exited, as Khloe entered.
Kourtney shimmied down the drain pipe, hitting the ground hard with her bare feet.
A bat was launched at her head.
Missing her by an inch.
Somehow her instincts alarmed her it was coming before it was thrown.
Kourtney glanced at her attacker, spotting Khloe.
They shared an exchange.
Shock on Khloe's face.
Anger on Kourtney's.
She ran, chucking the phone into some bushes.
Disappearing into the night.
Kourtney knew she couldn't return to the condo.
And she certainly couldn't rely on others to help her with the answers.
So she wandered.
Following the cat calls from dozens of strays.
Kourtney found her feline friends coming and going from an old mansion on the outskirts of West Hollywood.
The building was covered in thick vines, and looked like something from a horror flick.
On the porch, sat an old woman in a rocking chair.
Hundreds of cats, cuddled up to her as she silently stared at nothing.
Kourtney approached her.
Who's there? The old woman cried out.
But Kourtney quietly studied her.
Cats lept from her lap, as the woman reached for her cane.
She rose, revealing to Kourtney that she was blind.
Kourtney watched as the old woman tried finding her way back inside.
Pity washed over her, as she approached the crony.
The woman swung her cane at Kourtney, striking her leg.
What do you want? The woman hissed.
Instantly, the cats left the old woman's side, and tended to Kourtney's wound, lapping the blood up.
The woman's nose twitched, as she sniffed the air.
Come here, she demanded.
Kourtney approached the woman.
She, ran her fingers along Kourtney's face.
She sniffed her neck, and tasted her blood from the wound she inflicted.
The old woman purred, leading Kourtney into the house.
Kourtney resisted.
Come, now kitty, the old woman insisted.
You're my sister now.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Kardashians Vs. The Riddler Part VIII: Clayface
No, No, No.
Bruce thought while applying his magic cream.
He sat at wife, Kris Kardashian Jenners vanity, shaping his drooping face so it would appear even.
No matter how long he spent on it, things were never quite perfect.
Creaming, as he called it, was part of his daily regiment.
To smooth out his imperfections.
The chemically treated product was distributed within the black market.
He purchased it from an ancient herbal and medical shop in Thai Town.
Referred by another aging actress friend, Bruce tried a sample back in 1984 after he came out of his plastic surgery nightmare.
He was desperate to fix his problems, and refused to undergo more snips and prods.
While he learned to perfect his face with the cream, he was actually causing more harm to it.
The skin cells in his face began to die, creating dead muscles.
At thirty seven, he had started to look like a stroke victim.
Until he applied the cream.
The mystical mixture had started to bond with him.
And it was reliant upon him.
Bruce began to feel like a junkie, hiding his beauty tips from his family.
The public had become less forgiving, ridiculing his appearance.
No amount of cream could permanently fix the damages the surgery had caused.
So he continued to use.
Left with no choice.
In 1991, he became an honorary Kardashian member, by marrying the love of his life.
Kris Kardashian.
She became a Jenner, and gave birth to two daughters Kendall, and Kylie.
A small part of Bruce had feared his new life with the family.
Mostly because of the cream.
He managed to hide his disfigurements, by drowning himself in the cream early each morning.
The more he applied, the longer his face would hold up.
It began to form a thick waxy mold which the family assumed was make up.
While he struggled to keep his appearance up, he was also thrown under the Kardashian bus that revved through Hollywood.
Kim's sex tape had thrust the family into the spotlight, and their new reality show had begun.
Kris Jenner transformed into Momzilla, throwing her children in front of every and any camera possible.
The woman he fell in love with, was entranced by the falsity of Hollywood, and craved attention.
While the girls glammed up, Bruce felt worse about his appearance.
Once again, he was thrown in front of the cross hairs of the tabloids.
He was under scrutiny about his face.
Kris tried being supportive, by pushing him toward the plastic surgeons, but he refused.
He was afraid the surgeons would learn the truth regarding his magic cream, and blab to Star magazine.
So he continued to mold his face.
One night, Bruce awoke to a startling discovery.
He couldn't breathe through his nose.
Rather than alarm Kris, Bruce, slipped into the bathroom.
In the mirror he discovered that his face had collapsed.
While his eyes remained in place, everything else had sunken in.
The only way he could breathe properly was by swallowing large gasps of air through the hole that used to be his mouth.
In a panic, he reached for his cream, but there was not enough.
He managed to shift his nose back in place, but the rest of him was inverted.
There was no way of hiding this.
He bandaged his face with every gauze strip he could find, racing through the gates of his Calabasas community.
There was no way his supplier would be open at 3 A.M, but he had to do something.
Bruce raced to Thai Town.
To his surprise, the shop was open.
A great amount of shame always washed over him, right before he had entered the run down facility.
The shop was painted with graffiti.
Animal hides hung from the ceiling, while the smell of burning flesh permeated the air.
Disturbing paintings of crying children murdering their parents hung on the walls.
This was one of those places you certainly wouldn't want to be in at this time of hour, but Bruce was desperate.
He called out for the shop owner, but there seemed to be no one around.
Behind the counter was a tub of the cream he wanted.
Typically the old Thai shop owner would scoop the contents into a smaller container for Bruce, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
He popped the top off the container, and scooped the thick cream out with his hands.
Bruce applied a heavy dose to his flesh, inverting things back to their place.
A small shop mirror helped him smooth out the imperfections.
He smiled, causing his flesh to crack.
More cream was applied, but his face wouldn't take.
The skin began to ooze and droop.
He ruthlessly applied more, hoping the entire container would fix it, but his skin transformed to putty.
Bruce screamed at the horror, prompting the shop owner to appear.
The owner began shouting in Thai, cursing him.
Bruce pleaded for help, but when the owner saw the half empty container of cream he became vigilant.
He took Bruce by the scalp, which nearly ripped off, and poured the remaining contents down his throat.
Bruce gagged as the thick substance clogged all major arteries instantly.
He dropped down dead.
The Thai man began stepping on Bruce's body, but instead of crushing his bones, the body squished into clay.
The owner rolled the remnants of Bruce into a tight clay ball and tossed it out his front door.
The ball rolled down the street, and slipped down a sewer drain.
The pile of clay splashed into a vile mix of Los Angeles toxic spill, and sewage, bringing the old man back to life.
First a hand.
Then an arm.
Then the rest of him grew.
Rats feared the pulsating pile of garbage, which grew by the minute.
Before long, Bruce had fully regrown.
He found his way out of the sewer, unsure of how he had gotten there in the first place.
Back in Calabasas, he showered off all the grime from the city.
He towled himself off, which mushed his entire body.
Before he could shift everything back to normal, his body snapped like a tight rubber band.
Everything was as it was, before he started using.
He gasped at the perfection.
The beautifully clean lines.
His flawlessly smooth skin.
No amount of cream had done this good of job.
He wasn't quite sure what had changed, but he felt different.
Poking his skin, he watched it dip, then snap back in to place.
He smiled, waiting for a crack.
Nothing.
All was perfection.
But perfection never came without a price.
Bruce was anxious to see what was in store for him.
So he went back to bed.
Hoping his beauty wasn't temporary.
Unaware, that his daughter Kylie had just seen everything.
Bruce thought while applying his magic cream.
He sat at wife, Kris Kardashian Jenners vanity, shaping his drooping face so it would appear even.
No matter how long he spent on it, things were never quite perfect.
Creaming, as he called it, was part of his daily regiment.
To smooth out his imperfections.
The chemically treated product was distributed within the black market.
He purchased it from an ancient herbal and medical shop in Thai Town.
Referred by another aging actress friend, Bruce tried a sample back in 1984 after he came out of his plastic surgery nightmare.
He was desperate to fix his problems, and refused to undergo more snips and prods.
While he learned to perfect his face with the cream, he was actually causing more harm to it.
The skin cells in his face began to die, creating dead muscles.
At thirty seven, he had started to look like a stroke victim.
Until he applied the cream.
The mystical mixture had started to bond with him.
And it was reliant upon him.
Bruce began to feel like a junkie, hiding his beauty tips from his family.
The public had become less forgiving, ridiculing his appearance.
No amount of cream could permanently fix the damages the surgery had caused.
So he continued to use.
Left with no choice.
In 1991, he became an honorary Kardashian member, by marrying the love of his life.
Kris Kardashian.
She became a Jenner, and gave birth to two daughters Kendall, and Kylie.
A small part of Bruce had feared his new life with the family.
Mostly because of the cream.
He managed to hide his disfigurements, by drowning himself in the cream early each morning.
The more he applied, the longer his face would hold up.
It began to form a thick waxy mold which the family assumed was make up.
While he struggled to keep his appearance up, he was also thrown under the Kardashian bus that revved through Hollywood.
Kim's sex tape had thrust the family into the spotlight, and their new reality show had begun.
Kris Jenner transformed into Momzilla, throwing her children in front of every and any camera possible.
The woman he fell in love with, was entranced by the falsity of Hollywood, and craved attention.
While the girls glammed up, Bruce felt worse about his appearance.
Once again, he was thrown in front of the cross hairs of the tabloids.
He was under scrutiny about his face.
Kris tried being supportive, by pushing him toward the plastic surgeons, but he refused.
He was afraid the surgeons would learn the truth regarding his magic cream, and blab to Star magazine.
So he continued to mold his face.
One night, Bruce awoke to a startling discovery.
He couldn't breathe through his nose.
Rather than alarm Kris, Bruce, slipped into the bathroom.
In the mirror he discovered that his face had collapsed.
While his eyes remained in place, everything else had sunken in.
The only way he could breathe properly was by swallowing large gasps of air through the hole that used to be his mouth.
In a panic, he reached for his cream, but there was not enough.
He managed to shift his nose back in place, but the rest of him was inverted.
There was no way of hiding this.
He bandaged his face with every gauze strip he could find, racing through the gates of his Calabasas community.
There was no way his supplier would be open at 3 A.M, but he had to do something.
Bruce raced to Thai Town.
To his surprise, the shop was open.
A great amount of shame always washed over him, right before he had entered the run down facility.
The shop was painted with graffiti.
Animal hides hung from the ceiling, while the smell of burning flesh permeated the air.
Disturbing paintings of crying children murdering their parents hung on the walls.
This was one of those places you certainly wouldn't want to be in at this time of hour, but Bruce was desperate.
He called out for the shop owner, but there seemed to be no one around.
Behind the counter was a tub of the cream he wanted.
Typically the old Thai shop owner would scoop the contents into a smaller container for Bruce, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
He popped the top off the container, and scooped the thick cream out with his hands.
Bruce applied a heavy dose to his flesh, inverting things back to their place.
A small shop mirror helped him smooth out the imperfections.
He smiled, causing his flesh to crack.
More cream was applied, but his face wouldn't take.
The skin began to ooze and droop.
He ruthlessly applied more, hoping the entire container would fix it, but his skin transformed to putty.
Bruce screamed at the horror, prompting the shop owner to appear.
The owner began shouting in Thai, cursing him.
Bruce pleaded for help, but when the owner saw the half empty container of cream he became vigilant.
He took Bruce by the scalp, which nearly ripped off, and poured the remaining contents down his throat.
Bruce gagged as the thick substance clogged all major arteries instantly.
He dropped down dead.
The Thai man began stepping on Bruce's body, but instead of crushing his bones, the body squished into clay.
The owner rolled the remnants of Bruce into a tight clay ball and tossed it out his front door.
The ball rolled down the street, and slipped down a sewer drain.
The pile of clay splashed into a vile mix of Los Angeles toxic spill, and sewage, bringing the old man back to life.
First a hand.
Then an arm.
Then the rest of him grew.
Rats feared the pulsating pile of garbage, which grew by the minute.
Before long, Bruce had fully regrown.
He found his way out of the sewer, unsure of how he had gotten there in the first place.
Back in Calabasas, he showered off all the grime from the city.
He towled himself off, which mushed his entire body.
Before he could shift everything back to normal, his body snapped like a tight rubber band.
Everything was as it was, before he started using.
He gasped at the perfection.
The beautifully clean lines.
His flawlessly smooth skin.
No amount of cream had done this good of job.
He wasn't quite sure what had changed, but he felt different.
Poking his skin, he watched it dip, then snap back in to place.
He smiled, waiting for a crack.
Nothing.
All was perfection.
But perfection never came without a price.
Bruce was anxious to see what was in store for him.
So he went back to bed.
Hoping his beauty wasn't temporary.
Unaware, that his daughter Kylie had just seen everything.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Kardashians Vs. The Riddler Part VII: Brody, Boy Wonder
Hollywood party boy claimed sole conservator and guardian over Jenner girls!
Brody Jenner.
Bruce's pride and joy.
And son with wife Linda Thompson.
He was well known and reveled by the paparazzi, long before the Kardashians took the spotlight.
He co-starred in series like the Hills.
And was guilty of capturing a few starlets hearts.
Nothing could have prepared him for fatherhood.
Brody should have gotten the entire city of Los Angeles pregnant, long before a conservatorship was assigned to him.
But Bruce had always had high hopes for his son.
Bruce had lived the lifestyles of the rich and famous, seventies and eighties.
The only thing learned was that cocaine and steroids don't mix.
He wanted more for his glory boy.
There was nothing worse than a scandalous career as an heir.
Bruce watched as the press had gotten less forgiving over the years.
Seeing Brody in the Hills was one thing, since it was scripted.
But the tabloids was another.
Bruce knew he wouldn't be around forever.
And had high expectations.
Once Kylie Kardashian was born, Bruce made the erratic decision to file legal papers making Brody the legal guardian and sole conservatorship over Kendall and Kylie.
If ever there was trouble.
This was, of course, information he kept secret from the rest of his family.
He hadn't worried about wife, Kris, since she had signed the paper work during one of her infamous red wine and Valium stupors.
Like most night, she had forgotten the entire engagement.
The day after the Riddler murder/kidnapping took place, the Kardashians mighty estate lawyer was summoned.
He wasn't much of a superhero, but was all the family had.
He alerted the clan of the Jenner girls new father.
Brody.
Brody had hoped the older sisters would take on the responsibility.
And for a while they did.
Kylie and Kendall were shuttled from Khloe's, to Kim's, to Kourtney's.
But the girls began to fear Kourtney's mental instability and called in the others for reinforcement.
Brody wasn't prepared for real life.
Not long ago, he was piss drunk at Kims nuptials.
Now he was held responsible for the well being of his half sisters, that he barely knew.
The only thing he had cared about, was whether Bruce was alive.
After Kourtney's death, the family hardships continued.
Kendall began acting out, citing the emotionally damaging environment changes as her reason.
This infuriated Khloe, who was busy fighting the LAPD on a daily basis on his behalf.
Rob was lost in a drug fueled frenzy.
While Kim unsuccessfully picked up the pieces of the families foundation.
Brody fled Los Angeles, and spent many months at his families private villa in Cabo San Lucas.
There, he partied.
Drank.
And fucked.
But soon he grew tired of it.
Nothing seemed to lift his spirits.
His overall mood had become black.
He learned to calm part of the ferocity with surfing.
The ocean reminded him of Bruce, who taught him how to shred.
His favorite memories flooded his mind.
He often thought of the day he watched the sun set with Bruce while they floated on their boards.
Bruce lectured Brody, spitting some inspirational verbiage.
What haunted Brody was Bruce's razor sharp tone confiding him to Take Pride In Something.
One night, during a drunken surf, Brody lost his balance and hit his head on a rock.
His body was tousled in the ocean, in hopes to swallow him whole, but he managed to break free.
He floated back to the surface and lie on the beach, mending the crack in his head.
Whether it was the rock, or Bruce's guilt, Brody wasn't sure.
But finally he had broke.
The entire night was dedicated to his lost feelings and hidden tears.
He cried, like no man had ever dared, hoping the pain would heal.
In the morning, everything was clear.
He returned to Los Angeles and moved Kendall and Kylie into his West Hollywood condo.
It took a while for Kylie to adjust to her new lifestyle at Brody's.
His condo was in no shape for two young girls.
And they were used to Bruce.
Kendall on the other hand, had made herself right at home.
Due to space limitations the girls shared a bedroom, which did not sit well with Kendall.
Brody tried cleaning up his bad boy past, by working full time in MTV's development department.
Since the girls were at a respectable age, his role as conservatorship was fairly simple.
He played an active role in the girls personal lives.
He drove them to school every morning.
He attended Kendall's football games where she cheered.
Kylie was involved in her schools drama department, which Brody fully supported, despite his disgust with Hollywood.
One night, after feeding the girls, an exhausted Brody fell in to bed.
A movement startled him.
Under his sheets was Kendall, who had hoped to surprise him.
She held his bedsheets over her body, but he could tell there was little underneath.
He distanced himself from her, demanding she get dressed, but she dropped the blankets anyway.
She explained that she was too old to share a bedroom with her younger sister.
That it was time he treated her like the woman she was.
Brody found it hard, both literal, and figuratively, as she was his half sister.
But Kendall hadn't cared.
She slithered toward Brody, seducing her prey.
Is suddenly dawned on Brody how forward she had become over the last few months.
He recalled her sexy routine performed at a pep rally.
Her eyes focused purely on him.
Or when they were at MTV premieres.
The way she would hold his hand while they walked the red carpet.
Cornered, Brody tried talking Kendall down, but she would have no part in his excuses.
A kiss, was all she asked for, but he knew it was wrong.
His libido palpated in sync with his heart.
He tried thinking of anything except sex, but since his full time dad stint he hadn't bed a single starlet.
He became too exhausted.
And didn't even masturbate.
Kendall kissed Brody, dipping her tongue in and out of his tightly pressed lips.
When he opened his eyes, she was gone.
Horrified, he left the condo for a drink at Teddy's.
As he arrived, the paparazzi were waiting.
It had been nearly a year since his last drunken stint and he vowed not to relapse.
Instead, he raced toward Kim's Beverly Hills mansion, in hopes of pawning off Kendall.
Nervously fidgeting with the radio, he drove, unaware of the figure in his back seat.
With lightning speed, the mysterious person covered his mouth with a liquid soaked cloth.
The chemicals made Brody delirious, as he swerved his car off the road.
It eventually slowed to a stop.
Brody's body had become numb.
The figure from the backseat rolled his body into the passenger seat, and resumed driving.
Barely conscious, he got a good look at his captor.
Of all people he didn't expect it to be her.
But it was.
Smiling, with her little Bambi eyes.
Kylie Jenner blew him a kiss, before putting the car in drive.
And peeling out.
Brody Jenner.
Bruce's pride and joy.
And son with wife Linda Thompson.
He was well known and reveled by the paparazzi, long before the Kardashians took the spotlight.
He co-starred in series like the Hills.
And was guilty of capturing a few starlets hearts.
Nothing could have prepared him for fatherhood.
Brody should have gotten the entire city of Los Angeles pregnant, long before a conservatorship was assigned to him.
But Bruce had always had high hopes for his son.
Bruce had lived the lifestyles of the rich and famous, seventies and eighties.
The only thing learned was that cocaine and steroids don't mix.
He wanted more for his glory boy.
There was nothing worse than a scandalous career as an heir.
Bruce watched as the press had gotten less forgiving over the years.
Seeing Brody in the Hills was one thing, since it was scripted.
But the tabloids was another.
Bruce knew he wouldn't be around forever.
And had high expectations.
Once Kylie Kardashian was born, Bruce made the erratic decision to file legal papers making Brody the legal guardian and sole conservatorship over Kendall and Kylie.
If ever there was trouble.
This was, of course, information he kept secret from the rest of his family.
He hadn't worried about wife, Kris, since she had signed the paper work during one of her infamous red wine and Valium stupors.
Like most night, she had forgotten the entire engagement.
The day after the Riddler murder/kidnapping took place, the Kardashians mighty estate lawyer was summoned.
He wasn't much of a superhero, but was all the family had.
He alerted the clan of the Jenner girls new father.
Brody.
Brody had hoped the older sisters would take on the responsibility.
And for a while they did.
Kylie and Kendall were shuttled from Khloe's, to Kim's, to Kourtney's.
But the girls began to fear Kourtney's mental instability and called in the others for reinforcement.
Brody wasn't prepared for real life.
Not long ago, he was piss drunk at Kims nuptials.
Now he was held responsible for the well being of his half sisters, that he barely knew.
The only thing he had cared about, was whether Bruce was alive.
After Kourtney's death, the family hardships continued.
Kendall began acting out, citing the emotionally damaging environment changes as her reason.
This infuriated Khloe, who was busy fighting the LAPD on a daily basis on his behalf.
Rob was lost in a drug fueled frenzy.
While Kim unsuccessfully picked up the pieces of the families foundation.
Brody fled Los Angeles, and spent many months at his families private villa in Cabo San Lucas.
There, he partied.
Drank.
And fucked.
But soon he grew tired of it.
Nothing seemed to lift his spirits.
His overall mood had become black.
He learned to calm part of the ferocity with surfing.
The ocean reminded him of Bruce, who taught him how to shred.
His favorite memories flooded his mind.
He often thought of the day he watched the sun set with Bruce while they floated on their boards.
Bruce lectured Brody, spitting some inspirational verbiage.
What haunted Brody was Bruce's razor sharp tone confiding him to Take Pride In Something.
One night, during a drunken surf, Brody lost his balance and hit his head on a rock.
His body was tousled in the ocean, in hopes to swallow him whole, but he managed to break free.
He floated back to the surface and lie on the beach, mending the crack in his head.
Whether it was the rock, or Bruce's guilt, Brody wasn't sure.
But finally he had broke.
The entire night was dedicated to his lost feelings and hidden tears.
He cried, like no man had ever dared, hoping the pain would heal.
In the morning, everything was clear.
He returned to Los Angeles and moved Kendall and Kylie into his West Hollywood condo.
It took a while for Kylie to adjust to her new lifestyle at Brody's.
His condo was in no shape for two young girls.
And they were used to Bruce.
Kendall on the other hand, had made herself right at home.
Due to space limitations the girls shared a bedroom, which did not sit well with Kendall.
Brody tried cleaning up his bad boy past, by working full time in MTV's development department.
Since the girls were at a respectable age, his role as conservatorship was fairly simple.
He played an active role in the girls personal lives.
He drove them to school every morning.
He attended Kendall's football games where she cheered.
Kylie was involved in her schools drama department, which Brody fully supported, despite his disgust with Hollywood.
One night, after feeding the girls, an exhausted Brody fell in to bed.
A movement startled him.
Under his sheets was Kendall, who had hoped to surprise him.
She held his bedsheets over her body, but he could tell there was little underneath.
He distanced himself from her, demanding she get dressed, but she dropped the blankets anyway.
She explained that she was too old to share a bedroom with her younger sister.
That it was time he treated her like the woman she was.
Brody found it hard, both literal, and figuratively, as she was his half sister.
But Kendall hadn't cared.
She slithered toward Brody, seducing her prey.
Is suddenly dawned on Brody how forward she had become over the last few months.
He recalled her sexy routine performed at a pep rally.
Her eyes focused purely on him.
Or when they were at MTV premieres.
The way she would hold his hand while they walked the red carpet.
Cornered, Brody tried talking Kendall down, but she would have no part in his excuses.
A kiss, was all she asked for, but he knew it was wrong.
His libido palpated in sync with his heart.
He tried thinking of anything except sex, but since his full time dad stint he hadn't bed a single starlet.
He became too exhausted.
And didn't even masturbate.
Kendall kissed Brody, dipping her tongue in and out of his tightly pressed lips.
When he opened his eyes, she was gone.
Horrified, he left the condo for a drink at Teddy's.
As he arrived, the paparazzi were waiting.
It had been nearly a year since his last drunken stint and he vowed not to relapse.
Instead, he raced toward Kim's Beverly Hills mansion, in hopes of pawning off Kendall.
Nervously fidgeting with the radio, he drove, unaware of the figure in his back seat.
With lightning speed, the mysterious person covered his mouth with a liquid soaked cloth.
The chemicals made Brody delirious, as he swerved his car off the road.
It eventually slowed to a stop.
Brody's body had become numb.
The figure from the backseat rolled his body into the passenger seat, and resumed driving.
Barely conscious, he got a good look at his captor.
Of all people he didn't expect it to be her.
But it was.
Smiling, with her little Bambi eyes.
Kylie Jenner blew him a kiss, before putting the car in drive.
And peeling out.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Kardashians Vs. The Riddler Part VI: Daddy's Little Girl
Kendall Jenner's sheets swished and swayed, until they were kicked to the floor by a pair of mans legs.
She had become very good at getting what she wanted.
And since mom, Kris Jenner's death, she acquired everything she dreamed of.
Everything, except revenge.
While her older sisters, Kourtney, Kim, and Khloe gathered media attention, Kendall was forced to play with baby Kylie in the sandbox.
Over the years they learned to survive, and play "house" with the others while the cameras rolled.
Often times the Jenner girls were forgotten at red carpet premieres, or lavish parties.
Bruce became a full time nanny, while the Kardashian empire was built.
Kendall always took pity on the old fool.
She saw his love for the entire family.
She also saw through his facade.
Behind his disfigured scars was a man crying to get out.
A man who ached to be the great Olympic figure he once was.
To be respected.
And reclaim the empire as his own.
As Kendall got older, she saw this dream die a slow and painful death.
The fire behind Bruce's eyes was almost non existent.
While Bruce ran on embers, Kendall sparked a flare.
She had developed a particular blood lust at an early age.
While most kids held magnifying glasses over ants, Kendall preferred torturing stray cats.
It was easy.
The cats were naturally drawn to her.
Who wouldn't be?
The Jenner-Kardashians own Venus fly trap.
She would smize the cats toward her, bewitching them.
As soon as they were in her grasp she would smother them with a pillow, or drown them in the pool.
No one expected foul play, because she was just a child.
The older she got the more intense her boredom grew.
Cats had stopped crossing the Kardashian property.
Perhaps they had wised up.
None the less., Kendall needed to feel something again.
All that time, killing cats or wild animals that crossed her, she had begun to feel something.
It was an animalistic instinct, similar to sex, but with an easier pay off.
She lost her virginity when she was thirteen to a boy from Sierra Canyon, the private school she attended in Chatsworth.
She was at a bonfire in Malibu with a group of older and richer students.
Just your typical senior party.
Bottles of Patron.
Vintage scotch.
Coke ridden mirrors.
And free passing joints.
Kendall refused to partake in the festivities.
Mostly because she had decided to go all the way.
She even knew with who.
Dave Price.
A random face in the popular crowd.
He was particularly quiet.
And hadn't garnished a reputation, like most of the other boys.
She knew he'd be pure.
Something she expected from her victims.
The party began to wind down.
The students started coupling up, drunkenly returning to their SUV's.
Kendall, played Dave for all he was worth.
She gave him the longest eye fuck of his life, before he finally got the hint.
He followed her down the beach.
Alone, she forced him to strip, and watch her seductively take her clothes off.
Something about the delay made her feel powerful.
Unlike other girls, her age, Kendall showed no fear.
Her femininity took over, until she stood in front of him, bare.
She had hoped he would make a move.
But she knew from her mother, that a Kardashian, or in this case, a Jenner, holds all the power.
Kendall thought of Bruce's sad eyes while Dave had his way with her.
She had hoped to enjoy it.
Instead it was painful, and degrading .
Fortunately, it didn't take long.
Instead of climaxing, Dave passed out.
The fire she had missed began to twist her heart into knots.
She dragged his body into the ocean and held his head under the tide.
The current pulled them in, but Kendall refused to let go.
Half concious, Dave squirmed, unaware of the situation.
Kendall dug her fingernails into the flesh of his neck, screaming in pleasure.
Dave wiggled like a fish on a hook, longer than he had when he was inside her.
It wasn't long before his body stopped convulsing.
Dave was cast into the ocean.
Kendall returned to the shore, trembling.
Unsure if it was the ice cold water.
Or the fresh death in her hands.
A smile warmed inside her.
She giggled, returning home.
No one seemed to care where she had been.
No one asked why she was soaking wet.
The only concern from the family was her five minute shoot for the new episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians tomorrow.
On her vanity was the 2010 Christmas card framed, featuring the entire Kardashian clan.
Kendall administered a pair of scissors to the photo, placing it back in its frame.
In her hand she held her mothers face.
She lit a cigarette and took a puff before stubbing the butt out on Kris's cut out.
The fire Bruce had carefully hidden had suddenly erupted inside Kendall.
And hell hath no fury like a Kardashian sister, unless you're a Jenner.
She had become very good at getting what she wanted.
And since mom, Kris Jenner's death, she acquired everything she dreamed of.
Everything, except revenge.
While her older sisters, Kourtney, Kim, and Khloe gathered media attention, Kendall was forced to play with baby Kylie in the sandbox.
Over the years they learned to survive, and play "house" with the others while the cameras rolled.
Often times the Jenner girls were forgotten at red carpet premieres, or lavish parties.
Bruce became a full time nanny, while the Kardashian empire was built.
Kendall always took pity on the old fool.
She saw his love for the entire family.
She also saw through his facade.
Behind his disfigured scars was a man crying to get out.
A man who ached to be the great Olympic figure he once was.
To be respected.
And reclaim the empire as his own.
As Kendall got older, she saw this dream die a slow and painful death.
The fire behind Bruce's eyes was almost non existent.
While Bruce ran on embers, Kendall sparked a flare.
She had developed a particular blood lust at an early age.
While most kids held magnifying glasses over ants, Kendall preferred torturing stray cats.
It was easy.
The cats were naturally drawn to her.
Who wouldn't be?
The Jenner-Kardashians own Venus fly trap.
She would smize the cats toward her, bewitching them.
As soon as they were in her grasp she would smother them with a pillow, or drown them in the pool.
No one expected foul play, because she was just a child.
The older she got the more intense her boredom grew.
Cats had stopped crossing the Kardashian property.
Perhaps they had wised up.
None the less., Kendall needed to feel something again.
All that time, killing cats or wild animals that crossed her, she had begun to feel something.
It was an animalistic instinct, similar to sex, but with an easier pay off.
She lost her virginity when she was thirteen to a boy from Sierra Canyon, the private school she attended in Chatsworth.
She was at a bonfire in Malibu with a group of older and richer students.
Just your typical senior party.
Bottles of Patron.
Vintage scotch.
Coke ridden mirrors.
And free passing joints.
Kendall refused to partake in the festivities.
Mostly because she had decided to go all the way.
She even knew with who.
Dave Price.
A random face in the popular crowd.
He was particularly quiet.
And hadn't garnished a reputation, like most of the other boys.
She knew he'd be pure.
Something she expected from her victims.
The party began to wind down.
The students started coupling up, drunkenly returning to their SUV's.
Kendall, played Dave for all he was worth.
She gave him the longest eye fuck of his life, before he finally got the hint.
He followed her down the beach.
Alone, she forced him to strip, and watch her seductively take her clothes off.
Something about the delay made her feel powerful.
Unlike other girls, her age, Kendall showed no fear.
Her femininity took over, until she stood in front of him, bare.
She had hoped he would make a move.
But she knew from her mother, that a Kardashian, or in this case, a Jenner, holds all the power.
Kendall thought of Bruce's sad eyes while Dave had his way with her.
She had hoped to enjoy it.
Instead it was painful, and degrading .
Fortunately, it didn't take long.
Instead of climaxing, Dave passed out.
The fire she had missed began to twist her heart into knots.
She dragged his body into the ocean and held his head under the tide.
The current pulled them in, but Kendall refused to let go.
Half concious, Dave squirmed, unaware of the situation.
Kendall dug her fingernails into the flesh of his neck, screaming in pleasure.
Dave wiggled like a fish on a hook, longer than he had when he was inside her.
It wasn't long before his body stopped convulsing.
Dave was cast into the ocean.
Kendall returned to the shore, trembling.
Unsure if it was the ice cold water.
Or the fresh death in her hands.
A smile warmed inside her.
She giggled, returning home.
No one seemed to care where she had been.
No one asked why she was soaking wet.
The only concern from the family was her five minute shoot for the new episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians tomorrow.
On her vanity was the 2010 Christmas card framed, featuring the entire Kardashian clan.
Kendall administered a pair of scissors to the photo, placing it back in its frame.
In her hand she held her mothers face.
She lit a cigarette and took a puff before stubbing the butt out on Kris's cut out.
The fire Bruce had carefully hidden had suddenly erupted inside Kendall.
And hell hath no fury like a Kardashian sister, unless you're a Jenner.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Kardashians Vs. The Riddler Part V: Khloe's Klaws
Bruce Jenner was no where to be found, and no one seemed to question it.
Except Khloe.
While the rest of the family exploited themselves for the camera, became drug takers or ex-communicated themselves from the Kardashian name, Khloe remained persistent.
Even though Bruce wasn't her biological father, he was the closest thing to it since her father, Robert, died.
She already lost her mother.
She wouldn't lose another father.
The LAPD knew her on a first name basis.
Or better know as K.K.
The Kardashian Kunt.
The city grew tired of her constant nagging, and barrage of questions.
Police headquarters became a weekly sitcom featuring K.K. and the LAPD.
She would burst into the building in a frantic tizzy, while cops rolled their eyes and turned the other way.
A back and forth between the police chief and K.K would take place, while a laugh track played over the uncomfortable shouting and silent answers.
In Khloe's eyes, the police weren't doing much to solve the Riddlers Puzzle case.
The FBI briefly investigated the crime, and took the family into questioning after Kris's death, but the case remained an unsolved mystery.
A year and a half of dead end clues and no lead, the case was dropped and shuffled back to LAPD.
Soon after, Kourtney had killed herself separating the family more than ever.
Sister Kim tried staying strong and running the empire, but her attempts were useless.
Khloe's father was missing, her mother was dead, and her best friend and sister selfishly took her own life.
Rob had become a junkie, and Kendall and Kylie wanted nothing to do with the family.
Lamar, Khloe's husband tried being as supportive as he could.
The press berated him with questions regarding the reality family.
He was publicized for his violent outbursts toward photogs and paparazzi.
The negative publicity began affecting his performance.
He was ultimately dropped from the Lakers and black listed from most NBA teams.
Avoiding more bad press, Khloe distanced herself from Lamar, hoping to separate briefly.
Khloe moved in with Kim, who was equally unsatisfied with her marriage.
They became each others support system.
Khloe was dependent on Kim.
And vice versa.
One night, Khloe made an impromptu visit to her her home with Lamar to talk about their marriage.
The Beverly Hills mansion was packed with party goers.
Hip hop echoed through the yard.
Khloe, was appalled at the video ho's and random strippers working the party.
Lamar was obnoxiously drunk, while two girls drank champagne and straddled him.
Never the wall flower, Khloe slid her 9-karat diamond engagement ring to the inside of her palm.
The champagne twins were the first to go down.
Each received a shiny hello from Khloe before knocking them out cold.
Her phone rang.
It was Kim.
Now was not the time for a chat.
Lamar, jumped on the defensive and became shouting racial slurs at her.
Whether it was the aggression toward the LAPD, or the pain from the past year and half, wasn't clear.
What was evident, was that nobody fucked with a Kardashian.
Especially Khloe.
Lamar continued to belittle her, shouting obscenities, while party go-ers helped the champagne ho's off the ground.
Khloe responded by kissing her diamond ring, and round housing Lamar in the head.
She finished off her new move with an uppercut, sliding her diamond across his chin.
A path opened up from the by standers, as Khloe exited the house.
Clearly her mixed martial arts classes were paying off.
And reaped more benefits than her hour of yoga.
She returned to her temporary home at Kims, feeling invigorated.
Her key entered the front doors lock.
The door was already open.
Khloe entered, feeling a horrific case of deja vu.
The apartment had been ransacked.
Her gut told her to run.
Her heart told her to fight.
She readied her 9-karat ring and removed a baseball bat from the coat closet.
Khloe wanted to call out to Kim, but was too afraid of the silence.
She scoured the home, finding an open box with the words BEWARE THE RIDDLER written on the bottom.
Her rage erupted.
Khloe began smashing anything in her path in order to call out the captor.
Glass sculptures.
Lamps.
Art work.
Nothing was saved.
She wouldn't become a victim.
A scurry in the back bedroom, shocked her senses.
Khloe rushed to the room, ready for combat.
Glass from a broken window littered the floor.
Bloody footprints had danced through it.
Something was outside the window.
Khloe followed the noise.
A woman was shimming down a drain pipe that lined against the building.
Khloe wasn't going down without a fight.
She thrust the bat at the woman's head.
She missed by an inch, but got her attention.
The woman below was covered in blood and filth.
She wore a tattered silk dress, and ran barefoot.
The woman appeared savage and foreign, until Khloe locked eyes with the creature.
They locked eyes, before she ran off.
Her breath escaped her body.
She wheezed, having a panic attack, for the woman below was no stranger.
In fact the dress the woman wore belonged to her sister.
And eyes belonged to her best friend.
It was Kourtney.
Except Khloe.
While the rest of the family exploited themselves for the camera, became drug takers or ex-communicated themselves from the Kardashian name, Khloe remained persistent.
Even though Bruce wasn't her biological father, he was the closest thing to it since her father, Robert, died.
She already lost her mother.
She wouldn't lose another father.
The LAPD knew her on a first name basis.
Or better know as K.K.
The Kardashian Kunt.
The city grew tired of her constant nagging, and barrage of questions.
Police headquarters became a weekly sitcom featuring K.K. and the LAPD.
She would burst into the building in a frantic tizzy, while cops rolled their eyes and turned the other way.
A back and forth between the police chief and K.K would take place, while a laugh track played over the uncomfortable shouting and silent answers.
In Khloe's eyes, the police weren't doing much to solve the Riddlers Puzzle case.
The FBI briefly investigated the crime, and took the family into questioning after Kris's death, but the case remained an unsolved mystery.
A year and a half of dead end clues and no lead, the case was dropped and shuffled back to LAPD.
Soon after, Kourtney had killed herself separating the family more than ever.
Sister Kim tried staying strong and running the empire, but her attempts were useless.
Khloe's father was missing, her mother was dead, and her best friend and sister selfishly took her own life.
Rob had become a junkie, and Kendall and Kylie wanted nothing to do with the family.
Lamar, Khloe's husband tried being as supportive as he could.
The press berated him with questions regarding the reality family.
He was publicized for his violent outbursts toward photogs and paparazzi.
The negative publicity began affecting his performance.
He was ultimately dropped from the Lakers and black listed from most NBA teams.
Avoiding more bad press, Khloe distanced herself from Lamar, hoping to separate briefly.
Khloe moved in with Kim, who was equally unsatisfied with her marriage.
They became each others support system.
Khloe was dependent on Kim.
And vice versa.
One night, Khloe made an impromptu visit to her her home with Lamar to talk about their marriage.
The Beverly Hills mansion was packed with party goers.
Hip hop echoed through the yard.
Khloe, was appalled at the video ho's and random strippers working the party.
Lamar was obnoxiously drunk, while two girls drank champagne and straddled him.
Never the wall flower, Khloe slid her 9-karat diamond engagement ring to the inside of her palm.
The champagne twins were the first to go down.
Each received a shiny hello from Khloe before knocking them out cold.
Her phone rang.
It was Kim.
Now was not the time for a chat.
Lamar, jumped on the defensive and became shouting racial slurs at her.
Whether it was the aggression toward the LAPD, or the pain from the past year and half, wasn't clear.
What was evident, was that nobody fucked with a Kardashian.
Especially Khloe.
Lamar continued to belittle her, shouting obscenities, while party go-ers helped the champagne ho's off the ground.
Khloe responded by kissing her diamond ring, and round housing Lamar in the head.
She finished off her new move with an uppercut, sliding her diamond across his chin.
A path opened up from the by standers, as Khloe exited the house.
Clearly her mixed martial arts classes were paying off.
And reaped more benefits than her hour of yoga.
She returned to her temporary home at Kims, feeling invigorated.
Her key entered the front doors lock.
The door was already open.
Khloe entered, feeling a horrific case of deja vu.
The apartment had been ransacked.
Her gut told her to run.
Her heart told her to fight.
She readied her 9-karat ring and removed a baseball bat from the coat closet.
Khloe wanted to call out to Kim, but was too afraid of the silence.
She scoured the home, finding an open box with the words BEWARE THE RIDDLER written on the bottom.
Her rage erupted.
Khloe began smashing anything in her path in order to call out the captor.
Glass sculptures.
Lamps.
Art work.
Nothing was saved.
She wouldn't become a victim.
A scurry in the back bedroom, shocked her senses.
Khloe rushed to the room, ready for combat.
Glass from a broken window littered the floor.
Bloody footprints had danced through it.
Something was outside the window.
Khloe followed the noise.
A woman was shimming down a drain pipe that lined against the building.
Khloe wasn't going down without a fight.
She thrust the bat at the woman's head.
She missed by an inch, but got her attention.
The woman below was covered in blood and filth.
She wore a tattered silk dress, and ran barefoot.
The woman appeared savage and foreign, until Khloe locked eyes with the creature.
They locked eyes, before she ran off.
Her breath escaped her body.
She wheezed, having a panic attack, for the woman below was no stranger.
In fact the dress the woman wore belonged to her sister.
And eyes belonged to her best friend.
It was Kourtney.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Kardashians Vs. The Riddler Part IV: Riddlers Ritalin
Sex and drugs.
Two things that go hand in hand.
Unless you're Rob Kardashian.
Since his mothers death, and sisters suicide, Rob had chose to numb himself with a variety of illegal, or prescription drugs.
You name it, he'd done it.
He wasn't particularly fond of needles, or something you have to smoke, but if it could go up your nose, he was your man.
Most people he knew that experimented with drugs had wound up dead or in a downward spiral.
Rob had aceepted either.
Every morning after a black out bender he would wake, and ask himself why he was still alive.
His sisters tried to turn the other cheek to his wild and innapropriate behavior, but it had only worsened since Kourtney's death.
Kim devised an intervention, but the family had long gone their sepearate ways.
Kylie and Kendall sent him their best wishes via twitter, while Khloe nearly bust down the door to his condo in an attempt to kick his ass straight to rehab.
Money was dwindeling with his new drug fueled hunger, and fame had deduced to page eight of the National Enquirer, reporting:
Reality Prince falls hard, after drunken night with Lindsay Lohan.
At least the Kardashian name was back in the papers.
Rob had developed a more than platonic relationship with Lindsay, mostly because she could score the best drugs.
The more he hung around her, the better he felt about his own life.
She often spit sage advice while they snorted her famous drug salad she concocted.
During his euphoric highs, he wandered Venice Beach blending in with the local art freaks and homeless junkies.
Occasionally a tourist would recognize him and ask for a picture.
This usually set him off on a tirad.
Which further developed into a law suit.
And a broken camera.
Rob was sick of Hollywood.
Sick of the bullshit.
And sick of snorting his dreams away.
Waking from a mad hang over, Rob noticed he was surrounded by two topless junkies under a palm tree.
The beach was unfamiliar.
He wandered the foreign board walk, hoping to spot Lohan's place.
He was lost.
He wandered for what felt like days, before stopping outside a local freak show.
A voice beckoned for people to enter, for a mere dollar, but no tourist took the bait.
Rob thumbed his temples hoping the splitting detox, would stop.
The voice to the freak show revealed himself to Rob.
He was a tall, thin man, dressed in bright green latex.
His face was covered with a cheap translucent mask.
His head was shaved.
A giant question mark was tattooed on it.
He continued shouting to passing tourists, while Rob became entranced.
The Riddler, flashed a smile and stuck out his tongue.
On the tip was a green pill with a question mark on it.
He motioned for Rob to come inside.
With nothing to lose, he followed the latex freak inside.
Passing through a red velvet curtain, the sound of carnival music haunted the room.
The lighting was dim.
The floor sticky.
The Riddler hadn't spoken a word.
He led Rob through it's gimmicky attractions.
They passed by glass cases featuring a mix of live actors and taxidermy creatures.
At the end of the attraction was a green door with a question mark.
The Riddler turned to Rob and smiled.
He opened his palm, revealing the infamous green pill.
Rob asked what it was.
The Riddler smiled, and told him it was his famous Ritalin.
That all of the answers to questions untold were behind the green door.
That if he took the pill, he'd become omnipotent, and fall down the rabbit hole .
Robs cell phone rang.
A call from Kourtney's cell.
This jolted him back to reality.
He wanted to answer, but was too afraid of its caller.
The Riddler placed the small pill in Robs hand.
Rob contimplated the severity of his situation for all of one minute before popping the pill and giving in to the Riddlers Ritalin.
The Riddler laughed manically, opening the green door.
From Robs perspective, there was nothing but blackness in front of him.
That is, until he got closer and saw his identical twin with green glowing eyes.
Robs body shook maliciously.
Green acid dripped from all orifices.
He fell to the floor, shriveling into a pile of thick green goo.
His doppelganger stepped out from the black void, avoiding Robs decomposition.
The Riddler careslessly mopped Robs remains across the green doors threshold, slamming it shut.
Two things that go hand in hand.
Unless you're Rob Kardashian.
Since his mothers death, and sisters suicide, Rob had chose to numb himself with a variety of illegal, or prescription drugs.
You name it, he'd done it.
He wasn't particularly fond of needles, or something you have to smoke, but if it could go up your nose, he was your man.
Most people he knew that experimented with drugs had wound up dead or in a downward spiral.
Rob had aceepted either.
Every morning after a black out bender he would wake, and ask himself why he was still alive.
His sisters tried to turn the other cheek to his wild and innapropriate behavior, but it had only worsened since Kourtney's death.
Kim devised an intervention, but the family had long gone their sepearate ways.
Kylie and Kendall sent him their best wishes via twitter, while Khloe nearly bust down the door to his condo in an attempt to kick his ass straight to rehab.
Money was dwindeling with his new drug fueled hunger, and fame had deduced to page eight of the National Enquirer, reporting:
Reality Prince falls hard, after drunken night with Lindsay Lohan.
At least the Kardashian name was back in the papers.
Rob had developed a more than platonic relationship with Lindsay, mostly because she could score the best drugs.
The more he hung around her, the better he felt about his own life.
She often spit sage advice while they snorted her famous drug salad she concocted.
During his euphoric highs, he wandered Venice Beach blending in with the local art freaks and homeless junkies.
Occasionally a tourist would recognize him and ask for a picture.
This usually set him off on a tirad.
Which further developed into a law suit.
And a broken camera.
Rob was sick of Hollywood.
Sick of the bullshit.
And sick of snorting his dreams away.
Waking from a mad hang over, Rob noticed he was surrounded by two topless junkies under a palm tree.
The beach was unfamiliar.
He wandered the foreign board walk, hoping to spot Lohan's place.
He was lost.
He wandered for what felt like days, before stopping outside a local freak show.
A voice beckoned for people to enter, for a mere dollar, but no tourist took the bait.
Rob thumbed his temples hoping the splitting detox, would stop.
The voice to the freak show revealed himself to Rob.
He was a tall, thin man, dressed in bright green latex.
His face was covered with a cheap translucent mask.
His head was shaved.
A giant question mark was tattooed on it.
He continued shouting to passing tourists, while Rob became entranced.
The Riddler, flashed a smile and stuck out his tongue.
On the tip was a green pill with a question mark on it.
He motioned for Rob to come inside.
With nothing to lose, he followed the latex freak inside.
Passing through a red velvet curtain, the sound of carnival music haunted the room.
The lighting was dim.
The floor sticky.
The Riddler hadn't spoken a word.
He led Rob through it's gimmicky attractions.
They passed by glass cases featuring a mix of live actors and taxidermy creatures.
At the end of the attraction was a green door with a question mark.
The Riddler turned to Rob and smiled.
He opened his palm, revealing the infamous green pill.
Rob asked what it was.
The Riddler smiled, and told him it was his famous Ritalin.
That all of the answers to questions untold were behind the green door.
That if he took the pill, he'd become omnipotent, and fall down the rabbit hole .
Robs cell phone rang.
A call from Kourtney's cell.
This jolted him back to reality.
He wanted to answer, but was too afraid of its caller.
The Riddler placed the small pill in Robs hand.
Rob contimplated the severity of his situation for all of one minute before popping the pill and giving in to the Riddlers Ritalin.
The Riddler laughed manically, opening the green door.
From Robs perspective, there was nothing but blackness in front of him.
That is, until he got closer and saw his identical twin with green glowing eyes.
Robs body shook maliciously.
Green acid dripped from all orifices.
He fell to the floor, shriveling into a pile of thick green goo.
His doppelganger stepped out from the black void, avoiding Robs decomposition.
The Riddler careslessly mopped Robs remains across the green doors threshold, slamming it shut.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Kardashians vs. The Riddler Part III: Honey Bee
Eldedst Kardashian found dead after traumatic year for the family. We are told camera's will be present to record the remaining clans painful good bye's to their sister. The funeral will be held on a private beach in Malibu, per Scott Disicks request. Kourtney's body will be cremated. When asked about the decision to cremate over a burial, the family refused to comment. They released a brief statement via twitter stating"The Kardashians are fighters, yet we need time to reflect and re cooperate. Please respect our privacy during this horrible tragedy."
Kim always loved the press.
The media always loved her.
She never expected fame would drown her, like it had in the past year.
Guilt resided inside her for leaving the country on an exotic honeymoon, days before her mothers death.
Mostly because of the pain she felt in her families hearts.
Kim knew she had to be the new Queen of the household.
While new husband Kris Humphries was always away training, or endorsing a new product for basketball, she became lost in the Kardashian empire.
Taking over the business wasn't as easy as it appeared and she wondered how her mother managed her children's lives and the upkeep of a household.
Kims sisters insisted she hire a new manager or at least an assistant to help with the heavy work load, but she refused.
There was a certain amount of pride associated with the Kardashian crest.
Kim refused to give up.
She saw it as a personal debt owed to the late Kris Jenner Kardashian.
To topple the world as a professional business woman with no help, but her own.
Unfortunately, she wasn't ready for the pitfalls.
With the demise of sister Kourtney's sanity, and their publicity fading after her mothers funeral, Kim struggled to keep the family relevant.
She endorsed their name to any brand that would have them, but became entangled in bad business contracts and shady dealers.
The Kardashian name became smeared with the suicide of her sister, and no one wanted anything to do with them.
The family had become a reality curse, dropped from Ryan Seacrest, and once again over shadowed by the rise of the Hilton family.
Khloe had separated from Lamar, while brother Rob experimented with drugs.
Sisters Kylie and Kendall were now in the emotional teenage phase and placed in guardianship of brother in law and party boy Brodie Jenner.
Everyone had seemed to go their separate ways, while Kim struggled to hold an interest in husband Kris.
The beautiful, star player she once met, had grown many undignified mannerism after they married.
The man she loved was now a giant neanderthal addicted to steroids and lithium laced protein shakes.
She was waiting for the right moment to divorce him, with the potential of thrusting the Kardashian empire back into the spotlight, but there was no way of getting around the bad publicity from Kourtney.
Six months after her sisters death, a strange package arrived at Mrs. Kimberly Kardashian Humphries, Beverly Hills mansion.
It was wrapped in bright green paper with a lime green ribbon tied in the shape of a question mark.
Hesitant to open, she called her sister Khloe.
No answer.
Kris was out with some friends, a strip club no less, so she started to slip the bow off.
She carefully unwrapped the package, careful not the detonate anything, and slipped the colorful paper off.
A green box sat on her lap, while she thought about the possibilities inside.
The phone rang, startling her for a moment before she realized it was from Kourtney's cell.
She answered, at first hearing nothing.
Then, frantic screams and heavy breathing scowled into her ear.
Kim hung up and slid the phone across the floor.
She decided to postpone the big reveal, and open a bottle of 1945 Mouton Rothschild to calm her nerves.
It was an odd experience for Kim, being alone.
No cameras.
No bodyguards.
No husband.
Just her and her thoughts.
After a generous guzzle from her wine glass she returned to her phone, calling Kourtney's cell back.
It went straight to voicemail.
Hearing her voice brought tears to her eyes, and a heart ache she thought she had mended.
No one sees a Kardashian cry, was her mothers motto, but she couldn't help but feel lost and scared without her mother around.
Kim swallowed her pride, and a few more sips of wine, before reaching for the box.
Inside she found a variety of colorful tissue paper, but nothing inside.
The bottom of the box was a message : BEWARE THE RIDDLER
Suddenly, she felt a sting on her neck and pulled a green bee away from it.
She watched as the insect flailed itself in her palm, eventually dying.
Her neck began to itch, suddenly puffing, as if the stinger had infected her skin.
She ran to a mirror, but felt light headed.
She wondered if it was the wine.
Unlike any buzz she had before, Kims legs gave out.
She was paralyzed.
Her eyes rolled in the back of her head.
Everything was black.
When she awoke, she felt drowsy, and unable to move.
The sound of wasps surrounded her.
The occasional stinging reminded her she was alive.
Her vision cleared revealing her location.
An abandoned warehouse.
She tried to move, but realized she was stuck.
Her body rested against a giant honey comb while millions of green bees flew in and around her.
Kim screamed, but the bees flew inside her mouth like suicide pilots.
They consumed her one by one, violating her body as if it were a flower.
Stingers began leaving their marks.
She no longer felt pain.
For a moment she envisioned Kourtney before her, until the little green bees took over her pupils, and swallowed her whole.
Kim always loved the press.
The media always loved her.
She never expected fame would drown her, like it had in the past year.
Guilt resided inside her for leaving the country on an exotic honeymoon, days before her mothers death.
Mostly because of the pain she felt in her families hearts.
Kim knew she had to be the new Queen of the household.
While new husband Kris Humphries was always away training, or endorsing a new product for basketball, she became lost in the Kardashian empire.
Taking over the business wasn't as easy as it appeared and she wondered how her mother managed her children's lives and the upkeep of a household.
Kims sisters insisted she hire a new manager or at least an assistant to help with the heavy work load, but she refused.
There was a certain amount of pride associated with the Kardashian crest.
Kim refused to give up.
She saw it as a personal debt owed to the late Kris Jenner Kardashian.
To topple the world as a professional business woman with no help, but her own.
Unfortunately, she wasn't ready for the pitfalls.
With the demise of sister Kourtney's sanity, and their publicity fading after her mothers funeral, Kim struggled to keep the family relevant.
She endorsed their name to any brand that would have them, but became entangled in bad business contracts and shady dealers.
The Kardashian name became smeared with the suicide of her sister, and no one wanted anything to do with them.
The family had become a reality curse, dropped from Ryan Seacrest, and once again over shadowed by the rise of the Hilton family.
Khloe had separated from Lamar, while brother Rob experimented with drugs.
Sisters Kylie and Kendall were now in the emotional teenage phase and placed in guardianship of brother in law and party boy Brodie Jenner.
Everyone had seemed to go their separate ways, while Kim struggled to hold an interest in husband Kris.
The beautiful, star player she once met, had grown many undignified mannerism after they married.
The man she loved was now a giant neanderthal addicted to steroids and lithium laced protein shakes.
She was waiting for the right moment to divorce him, with the potential of thrusting the Kardashian empire back into the spotlight, but there was no way of getting around the bad publicity from Kourtney.
Six months after her sisters death, a strange package arrived at Mrs. Kimberly Kardashian Humphries, Beverly Hills mansion.
It was wrapped in bright green paper with a lime green ribbon tied in the shape of a question mark.
Hesitant to open, she called her sister Khloe.
No answer.
Kris was out with some friends, a strip club no less, so she started to slip the bow off.
She carefully unwrapped the package, careful not the detonate anything, and slipped the colorful paper off.
A green box sat on her lap, while she thought about the possibilities inside.
The phone rang, startling her for a moment before she realized it was from Kourtney's cell.
She answered, at first hearing nothing.
Then, frantic screams and heavy breathing scowled into her ear.
Kim hung up and slid the phone across the floor.
She decided to postpone the big reveal, and open a bottle of 1945 Mouton Rothschild to calm her nerves.
It was an odd experience for Kim, being alone.
No cameras.
No bodyguards.
No husband.
Just her and her thoughts.
After a generous guzzle from her wine glass she returned to her phone, calling Kourtney's cell back.
It went straight to voicemail.
Hearing her voice brought tears to her eyes, and a heart ache she thought she had mended.
No one sees a Kardashian cry, was her mothers motto, but she couldn't help but feel lost and scared without her mother around.
Kim swallowed her pride, and a few more sips of wine, before reaching for the box.
Inside she found a variety of colorful tissue paper, but nothing inside.
The bottom of the box was a message : BEWARE THE RIDDLER
Suddenly, she felt a sting on her neck and pulled a green bee away from it.
She watched as the insect flailed itself in her palm, eventually dying.
Her neck began to itch, suddenly puffing, as if the stinger had infected her skin.
She ran to a mirror, but felt light headed.
She wondered if it was the wine.
Unlike any buzz she had before, Kims legs gave out.
She was paralyzed.
Her eyes rolled in the back of her head.
Everything was black.
When she awoke, she felt drowsy, and unable to move.
The sound of wasps surrounded her.
The occasional stinging reminded her she was alive.
Her vision cleared revealing her location.
An abandoned warehouse.
She tried to move, but realized she was stuck.
Her body rested against a giant honey comb while millions of green bees flew in and around her.
Kim screamed, but the bees flew inside her mouth like suicide pilots.
They consumed her one by one, violating her body as if it were a flower.
Stingers began leaving their marks.
She no longer felt pain.
For a moment she envisioned Kourtney before her, until the little green bees took over her pupils, and swallowed her whole.
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