Z-Man: He's not just movies anymore!

So I grew tired of waiting for my screenplays and comic book scripts to be made into consumable media. Movies are expensive and artists are involved in their own projects. I'm reading more these days, trying to remember how to write prose. I'm really enjoying it: written fiction allows for much more creativity than film for the writer. The governing rules are more lax. A movie is a protagonist who undergoes a change, three structured acts, and a love story with a happy ending. Lame. Predictable.
In my build-up to completing a novel I'm doing some short fiction to flex my muscles, and to see if there is, in fact, any muscle tone left. Below is a piece I did for an NPR contest. The only stipulation is that it be able to be read in three minutes. Have a look and tell me what you like (and more importantly, what you don't like).



He was nearly out of breath by the time he got to agriculture headquarters. The receptionist, tinted red by the light of her tiny window, eyed him with professional indifference, waiting for him to state his business. His hand, over his heart, covered the name tag on his grey uniform.

Impatient, she started, “how may I hel...”

“I need to see the head of agriculture right away!”

A slight grin twitched to life. “Name and appointment time?”

“I don't have an appointment. This is very important! Tell him that I've figured out the soil degradation problem!”

“I'm Clerical class; I don't know what you're talking about.”

He huffed and turned his gaze to the window. Outside, miles of shriveled crops languished under artificial skies. “Produce prices are through the roof. We have to throw out twice what makes it to market.” He waited for a glint of recognition in the woman's eyes. “I can fix it.”

“Oh,” she said absently. Something on her monitor had drawn her attention away. “Would you like to make an appointment, then?”

“I would like,” he said with bewilderment, “to speak to the head directly! This is a dire situation!”

“The head is booked solid until March eleventh.” Her grin was gone. “Would you like to make an appointment?”

“Fine, then. But could you tell him... all the sod we put down... the Martian soil is leeching off the minerals.”

“If I could just see your Science Division I.D. I can schedule you in.”

“I'm not Science Division,” he admitted, knowing what was coming. “I'm a Soil Man.” But she had to have seen the dirt under his nails; she had to know.

“I'm sorry,” she lied, as she was deriving some morbid pleasure from his failure, “but the head doesn't converse with anyone under Level 6.”

“I know, but this is an emergency! The colony could be without vegetation in two months!”

Finally the false professionalism dropped from her voice. “Science Division solves problems. You're just a Soil Man.”

“I know, but I'm closer to the problem; that's why I can see it better. I tried to contact Science Division, but they don't converse with anyone under Level 5! How am I supposed to get their attention at Level 2?”

She was growing bored. “Tell it to your supervisor.”

Finally the civility dropped from his voice. “I tried to explain it to that pressed-shirt moron, but he had no clue what I was talking about! He only has that position because his parents were Level 4!”

Her hand was on the button before he finished speaking. “Sir, your tone is threatening and your inflammatory statement about a superior individual will be recorded.”

In no time flat a pair of Level 1's, men with unnatural arms and violent eyes appeared and physically removed the Soil Man from the office. On the sidewalk outside, the Soil Man turned his head to the heavens, yelling to be heard on the upper floors of the structure.

“It's the nitrates! Check the nitrates!” He stood there, pleading, for a few more moments before he turned and walked away, picking the dirt from beneath his nails.

>>END>>


Now comes the burden of title. What should I call this one? "Ease of Entry" - "Access" - "The Soil Man" - "(your suggestion here)"
Drop me a line!
- The Z-Man

Welcome to my first blog: People suck all over

Upon Suffering a massive pay cut in Florida, I lit out for the grand, open North: Boston, where incomes are higher and job opportunities abound.

Shit. Only one sentence in and I've already blown my punchline. I've constructed this sucker backwards. Everybody has navigated away, except my mother, who thinks every word is Pulitzer material.

My declaration of intention o move to Boston was met with a combination of confusion ("Why Boston? That's so random.") and outright laughter ("That's ballsy!")

How do you respond to that? I chose, "why, thank you!"

I didn't think it was so unusual to pack up and move to a big city. I'm in my mid-20's; isn't that what we do? ... when we're not busy getting married, reproducing, climbing the corporate ladder, and desperately trying to tell ourselves that our actions and trials have meaning? But people reacted like this was an unheard-of pilgrimage. "Well, I'm packing up the car and leaving for the second moon of Pluto!"

Pluto. No longer a planet. People were furious when that reclassification happened, people who had never expressed outrage at rape or genocide or Spider-Man 3. "This is bullshit, maaan! You can't just say it's not a planet anymore! I'll reclassify you! You're not an astronomer; you're a bitch!"

So, moving to Boston. Right. I'm from the South. I say that without reservation, because like "planet," it's just a label. I don't see much difference in various regions of the country; people are the same all over. They're greedy, manipulative, self-obsessed and scared to death that their creature comforts are going to be taken away from them. And by and large, they think that their way of life is preferable to all others. The reactions I got to my move to Boston were enough to make you think that the Civil War was still raging.

My grandfather is an old southern man. He grows his own crops, has a wife who serves as cook and maid, and has probably never had his hand on a computer mouse. Yeah, I'll put five bucks on that. To quote him, "Bwah. What would you want to go be one of them Yankees for?"

"Yankees." He really said it. Spat it, actually, as if through gritted teeth whilst harvesting corn. "Yankees" are rude, uppity, talk too fast, and live in tiny, expensive apartments. The latter, at least, is true.

Before I forget, a funny anecdote regarding my grandmother. This petite, hard-of-hearing woman lives solely to prepare the next meal, and has never expressed a strong opinion about anything, save for this: We were watching television one day and one of those commercials comes on that features a baby digitally manipulated to appear to be speaking. I hear "grandmar" utter, "oh, that's horrible." What, grandmar? "I can't believe they'd do that to a baby. Babies aren't supposed to talk. That's just wrong." The look on her face is all fear and disgust. I didn't know that she had these emotions. All over a talking baby!

So I get to Boston, and during my first week I'm sitting at lunch with my girlfriend and some acquaintances. I'm asked where I'm from and I respond, "Georgia." Eyebrows are raised. "So, like, Atlanta?" No, actually, a few hours away.

At this point, the guy gets a look on his face, as if to say "Oh dear. I've found cat shit in my burrito." What comes out of his mouth is "Oh. So you're really from the south."

I'm fairly certain that most of America(TM) lives outside of major cities. I'm not positive what northerners think the south is like, but I see them envisioning a Walmart parking lot full of neglected trailer homes populated with unwashed Neanderthals in overalls. I'll have them know that some of us live outside the Dollar Store.

Actually, I'm not sure that anyone in Boston knows what a parking lot is. It's sort of like the side of the road, but parking is free and there are a plenitude of open spots. More of my rants on driving and parking in Boston to follow, believe me.

To a northerner, a "southerner" is rude, uneducated, talks too slowly, and enjoys Nascar. The latter, at least, is true.

Is the great north/south divide really still so obvious? What about people in the Midwest? Do they have stereotypes for us? Do they choose sides in these fights? And where do we get these preconceived notions from anyway? How many Bostonians have ever been to "the south"? Small towns are the same all over, regardless of geographic location. The only things that change are the funny accents, and they're all funny.