Hank and Duke recap Halloween Horror Nights 2012

06 Nov

Hank: “And there you have it, the squire spirit of Halloween lives. We sure did get our monies worth.”

Duke: “Sorry for not cooperating, Hank. I’m a little shell shocked at the moment.”

“What did you think of Si—”

“You promised you wouldn’t say it.”

“Its just an attraction, Duke.”

“That’s what you think, but imagine how I feel—nurses waking up right before my eyes, triangle heads chasing me down halls and little girls glowing behind chalk boards; she wasn’t so nice after all.”

“Halloween is alive and well it seems, which is precisely my point.”

“Where’s a point?”

“That Halloween is alive and well.”

“Lallowheen is live and swell, that’s not what I think.”

“Do you disagree with a man whose face is leather?”

“Whose feathered case?”

“That chainsaw wheeling bigot.”

“Him, well, I think he is a meanie. I didn’t like the way his face slanted.”

“I warned you about calling him Saw.”

“But, I could tell in his cheeks that he liked it. Why did they eat people?”

“Because some are like that.”

“All in all, great show. I hope we never do that one again.”

“Do cover your ears to the bloodcurdling screams of one young lady who had her cereal urinated on this past morning. If you frequent Southern California, make it a point to check out Universal Studios Hollywood during the month of October. It is quite the time.”

“You can say that again, or maybe I can—you can say that again, or maybe I can—you can say that again—”

“Stop it, Duke.”

“Sorry Charlie, but I don’t talk to strangers.”

Hank and Duke from Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios Hollywood

05 Nov

 

Duke: “Looniversal Tutdios LullyHood, California. We’ve made it, Hank, in one piece or something. Let’s hope we never travel through one of them sand things ever again. It really busted my corns and lettuce to travel like that. Why are we here though, Hank, and how come all these people are below us?”

Hank: “Do you recall that one time I asked you about Halloween?”

“Is that the one thing directly before but not after pine tree time where you put on a bunch of faces and eat candy and stuff?”

“I’ll say yes to that.”

“I don’t get it though.”

“This theme park before us hosts one of the best Halloween attractions known to man and, in just a few moments, we will take part in the dark, sinister fun. No longer will heavenly light warm this park but, instead, it will be veiled by erotic, hellish shadows awakening demons from their grave.”

“The sound of that sounds a little too good to be true. How come masked people run around and make threatening promises when they have no reason to be upset? Did somebody yank a teddy bear from their arms, is that why they are upset?”

“Perhaps, Duke, you are on to something.”

“A voice just echoed from the sky people. It said, ‘The park will be closing at 6pm tonight preparing for Looniversal Tutdios Lullyhood Roar Good nights.’ I don’t get it, because you said something like red things will sit up from Hello because a teddy bear was yanked from their hands. They must be upset, but I think I was in a stomachtary.”

“There is no such thing as stomachtaries, nincompoop. The only thing that exists is a cemetery, a place where squires can bury their loved ones. This is obviously not a cemetery, but will soon be turned into an H.P. Lovecraft poem once the fog rolls in.”

“They bury love something like kitties with butt juice, why?”

“Not exactly like that, Duke, for that is a completely different matter. Squires properly place their loved ones in boxes then neatly bury them in the ground.”

“Do they sleep better that way?”

“It is a matter of death, Duke.”

“The sound of that sounds pretty serious if you ask me, so don’t.”

“Are you ready to embark on a grand adventure full of mazes, screams and fun?”

“I’ve always been jealous of mice because they get to run around like that. There’s going to be masses with cheese at the end, right?”

“Of course, Duke, there will be mazes. Squires never disappoint.”

“I know, I admire them because they have kitties and other things of furry fun.”

“Let the smoke from Hell rise out the murky chasms it came and infect all who walk through it. Let the bells from Sheol give breath to those who’ve run astray, allowing them to eat if for only one blustery night.”

“Hank, you’re scaring me. Surely you don’t mean it. I don’t get how that cloud just came to be like that.”

“It is a bowel movement orchestrated from Hell itself. Now that the gates have opened, it is our duty to go in.”

“But what if we get finger cancer?”

“You wanted Hollywood, Duke. Well, Hollywood is here before you now. You best not flinch because we will never again venture up here. This is one of those moments you search yourself to see if you can handle it. I will not let you escape without a sense of adventure and, social status aside, its best we experience this together but keep it between us.”

“I actually wanted LullyHood, the promised place. Something wood is not what I wanted I’ll have you know, but they do have mouse cheese. Let’s go capture them cheeses.”

Hank and Duke inside the Art of the Pacific exhibit at Los Angeles County Museum of Art

30 Oct

Duke: “Why are we shoved in a closet, Hank?”

Hank: “Do not let your troubles cloud you. Keep fear at bay, for I have not tricked you. We haven’t yet left the museum property.”

“Really, well this don’t smell like no CALMA  to me.”

“Stop it, Duke, for this is a room dedicated to the Art of the Pacific. Touch nothing, for we know how squires are.”

“Hang on, Hank, for this is sure fun.”

“What the devil are you doing riding around a handmade bowl? You obviously did not hear my words of warning. Get out of there before I extinguish you.”

“Sorry, Charlie, but my chariot of thought departed a moment ago. I’m just going around and around, and am not caring or something.”

“You’re going to break that bowl, Duke.”

“You know what, you’re right. I’m sleepy because I’m sick of being thrown around.”

“Allow your king to help you up.”

“You mean it?”

“And not another word about it to anyone.”

“Thanks, Hank, you’re a pal.”

“Stop squirming. No, my right. The other right. Great job, buffoon, you managed to destroy an antique. What are we to do?”

“Relax, Hank, and come beat this drum with me.”

“Stop.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you, Hank because I’m singing. ‘In the CALMAS, the mighty CALMAS, Hank is a sourpuss McGittles.’”

“Your voice is like sipping oleander through a straw. You can raise the dead come to think of it.”

“Thanks, Hank, I’ve always known I possessed a hidden talent. My dream is to sing the unsung billboard of tomorrow. I want a billboard label to arrest me to a contract. What are we doing in this Halloween room if there are no producers to hear my beautiful voice?”

“I brought you here for a history lesson.”

“I like Jurassic history, thanks.”

“Not Jurassic history, but rather a study of a people who congregate together far from here in honor of dead ancestors who came before. You see, this culture is far removed from modernized society. It’s important to learn about all kinds of people, Duke.”

“Hang on a minute there, Hank. This kitty face looks like Uncle Carl.”

“Like Uncle Carl, my word.”

“No, my word.”

“Have at it then.”

“Hank, why is that monkey thing fanging us?”

“Because it wants us dead, Duke. We best put this venture to rest. Quick, left turn at lobster-nosed statue then bolt out the door.”

“Why did—?”

“There is no time. Touch nothing else and simply disappear.”

“Like a magician?”

“Like a magician.”

“But, what about Lallowheen?”

“I bet we can find some locations which specialize in that. Let’s hope we leave LACMA with our souls.”

“CALMA can have mine.”

“Oh, Duke.”

Hank and Duke amongst the LACMA lamposts

30 Oct

Duke: “Can’t see me, not even now, can’t see me.”

Hank: “Quiet, you hypocrite insurgent, while I attempt to see where it is we are.”

“I feel rather chipper thanks for asking, Hank. The legs are working well, too, I think? We’re at a place called CALMA, or something. I dislike running errands, so let’s stay here and play. It’s good exorcisms anyhow.”

“You’re making a fool out of yourself by scaling that lamppost like a feral rodent. Do not become an inferior.”

“How can I impossibly do that when I’m here running, or something.”

“It’s a saying, you selfish observer.”

“Shellfish oyster, where? Please tell me the secret hiding place.”

“Now that you’re off the pole, I must omit I was kidding.”

“That was real mean getting my hopes up and all. Look out, I’m going skinny dipping. And around and around I go, like zing and zang quick. Lightning dynamite speedy.”

“Get down, you look like a rodeo clown. You will direct your king on where to go.”

“Which way to Lully Hood?”

“The world may never know, for we are to feast in the valley of bones perpetuated by this tangled mess.”

“It’s like one a them trees filled with kitties, monkeys and stuff. I wished I had my machete. Do you think any a them bad begums are going to bruise myself?”

“With any luck.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a turn on these pole things? It’s like a carousel without a horsey.”

“I decline your offer, thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me a stroke of genius. I now know where we should go. This building is one of them artistic institutions. My personal feelings aside, we must scour the intestines of this decrepit hole and learn about the different transforms so to better relate with ‘L.A. people’. Every nation is represented within this tiny intersection of road so it would suit us best to learn and relearn. What better way to do that then to study the formation that brings society together.”

“What’s a spociety?”

“A society is a population at large. Come, much exploring is ahead of us.”

“But, how do we create movement while we’re still between metallic trees?”

“Push your way through.”

“No, Hank, I don’t want to hurt tree friend’s feeling.”

“Push.”

“Why did you just run me over?”

“Because there are many places needing exploring. For instance, we should really go back and visit our trusty dinosaur friends.”

“You mean it?”

“Fool, the art museum awaits.”

“But, I want to visit sours. Fine, but you owe me a balloon.”

“On your own time. Now, come.”

 

Hank and Duke journey towards the Levitated Mass at Los Angeles County Museum of Art (pt. 2 of 2)

29 Oct

 

[photo courtesy of Janine Saunders Sands]

Hank: “There you have it, genius, nothing to worry about. What did I tell you?”

Duke: “You told me that, I think. No, wait, I told you something then you said back to me something like that. I’m shivering up on the top of this rock thing.”

“Indeed, that is true. Help me understand man’s ingenuity and I might consider releasing your family.”

“Why get my hopes up? That’s why I don’t fuss with engines. I think it’s the best invention yet. The way minerals hit the glowing sun always causes me to speculate on what else is out there. Did you say something, Hank?”

“For those few seconds in time, you had quite the vocabulary and was caught off-guard.”

“Where’s a lifeguard? I can’t see what all the fuzz was about.”

“I mean, a floating rock is suppose to impress me. Are they serious?”

“Bingo the dog was a cereal hound, I think.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if this rock split in two.”

“Why did you have to speak like that, Hank? You hurt the rock’s feeling. See, he’s trembling with madness or something.”

“It might be too late to move. Hold on, Duke, and prepare yourself for much pain.”



“That was fun. Can we do that a second time?”

“We just had a rock split in half beneath our feet, nincompoop. How were you not affected?”

“I’ve been infected many times but have built up an immunity or something, I think.”

“You are easily amused. How about we pull ourselves together and jaunt towards the museum itself?”

“I like field trips, Hank. How did you know?”

“Lucky guess, now can you feel your legs?”

“I know they’re there. Wait, let me count.”

“You are quite the humorist.”

“Only on sometimes. Wait. I could really use some anchovy pizza.”

“How can you think of food while we’re in this predicament?”

“Pretty simple, I just think of how the fishes smile.”

“Oh, Duke.”

 

Hank and Duke journey towards the Levitated Mass at Los Angeles County Museum of Art (pt. 1 of 2)

27 Oct

Duke: “Boy, am I a breath of wind.”

Hank: “We only turned a sharp corner, nincompoop.”

“I seen the wind shift directions, so we aren’t in a cactus no more.”

“Where on earth have our battered feet taken us?”

“To the Yeti monster’s death lair, or something. I don’t want nothing to do with his sharp sharpness let me tell you.”

“I cannot sense foul play, for this place reminds me of artistic expression gone awry.”

“I give lots of expressions I think or, at least, try.”

“Come, let us go sit on that floating boulder and enjoy the view.”

[photo courtesy of Janine Saunders Sands]

“No, Hank, the Yeti monster doesn’t like company. I’ve heard it through the stringy vine or whatever the name squared.”

“Are those squires being eaten?”

“Depends on what you mean. They have them invisibility cloaks so the monster can’t pick up their sense.”

“You mean scent.”

“Like wafting a piece of paper.”

“Hurry before the sun dips low. The mighty boulder should cool by then and will be far too cold to sit on.”

“But, it’s booby-trapped Hank.”

“Grab your king’s cloak and listen.”

“Will you raise my wife and marry my children if I do?”

“Blabbering buffoon, no ill will come to you.”

“All right, but I warned you.”

Hank and Duke on the path to LACMA

26 Oct

Duke: “You think we lost him?”

Hank: “Not a word.”

“But, you said word already so isn’t that one?”

“I said not a word.”

“Then how come I hear you?”

“Not now, Duke. I cannot bear the embarrassment of your nonsense rambling.”

“Look, sour prints. Where do you think they—Smokey the Bear.”

“That’s not Smokey, Duke, for he is real. What you gaze upon is a statue and nothing more. I have always fancied Smokey; he is something to aspire to. I would like to meet him and am hopeful that, one day, I can.”

“Let’s go detective these sour prints and see where they go.”

“You will not catch me dead on these here trails. Even God himself has not a clue as to what lies ahead.”

“And that’s the fun of it, Hank. Adventure feeds into fun, or does fun swallow adventure, or swallows swallow fun’s adventure or something.”

“By God, enough. We understand it.”

“Look, a black building with animal cages around it. Is that a G.I. unit, because it says it on the wall or something. Let’s go say hi to sir G.I. Cage. I bet the sours are washing under their hams in the steamy water just scrubbing away.”

“A G.I. unit straight ahead, are you out of your mind?”

“I think, maybe—yes, dead level. Rock bottom, you sunk my battleship.”

“That is Pit 91, you flea flicker.”

“Sounds spooky, I think.”

“I’d rip my ears off if it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Right on my noggin.”

“That is an active pit where they have found dinosaur bones.”

“Sours did what?”

“Bones are found there daily. Now, I suppose I have to escort you over that way and explain it.”

“They’re like trickless magicians, right Hank?”

“Only if you will it.”

“But then, how do them bones just supercalifragilistic up?”

“Because dinosaurs are long gone. We’re edging closer, now behave.”

“Hank, how dare you. I’m going to my room. Shut the door behind me.”

“Let truth be known.”

“Be known, but to what?”

“To yourself.”

“I’ve agreed with myself many times.”

“Bigot.”

“Not actually, really. It’s more like—”

“It’s quite fascinating how you don’t stop the nonsense even when you are standing in front.”

“My name’s Duke, not sense. I’m going to go swim. Be out in a jiffy.”

“Get your tail down from that god forsaken gate unless you want to burn.”

“Maybe we should tell somebody to turn the jacuzzi down a smidge. The sours did and, see, they’re happy.”

“How many times do I have to tell you dinosaurs are long dead.”

“Hank, do not talk to me the rest of the car ride home.”

“You’ve broken my trust. Could have sworn you disrespected your king and, for that, silence is to be your name.”

“Just don’t wanna walk anymore.”

“Pipe down, you out of shape hawse, and be a man. Come down and continue on the trail with me.”

“But.”

“Not a word.”

Hank and Duke inside the Page Museum

25 Oct

Duke: “I’ve never seen so much blackness in my wildest. I don’t have cat eyes or dog noses. I’m not a sour neither. I’m a McOthers and we stick together.”

Hank: “You’ve blackened and blued your king. I have let it slide due to the dense visibility within its intellectual space.”

“Are we on another planet?”

“Incorrect.”

“I got it—we’re a Moon Men on Man Moon.”

“Have to regret you are wrong. Quit guessing and then maybe I will tell you where we are. The Page-Turner Museum holds special significance to society. Why, dinosaur fossils have been excavated beneath your fat toes.”

“From what cave?”

“Excavated, you fool.”

“I’ve been thinking I’ve been rhinoed about that there one, but maybe I’m wrong.”

“If you come here, I will show you.”

“Where?”

“Take my hand.”

“I already have two, I think, so why would I need another one?”

“It’s an expression.”

“Hank, you never told me we were in a graveyard. Why did you take me here? I’m going to have bad dreams unless this is another pirate riot.”

“I’m sorry to trouble you, but these fossils are on display to show us what the dinosaur really was. Their discovery has prompted the growth in technology, piquing interest in the general germ.”

“They were swimming forty-seven seconds ago, right Hank?”

“I’m afraid not, Duke, for those were images of a past that no longer exists.”

“But, the elephants was bathing and having a grand old time.”

“Wrong again.”

“But, I saw them.”

“Do you see this flavored tooth cat?”

“Yes, I think so. Its so delicious that I want it, but I know taking something that isn’t yours is wrong and stuff.”

“Right you are, Duke. However, I do not believe this feline would be a suitable pet. One false move may spell disaster.”

“See, I like working with you because I am taught lots of things. You just taught me that ‘move’ spells ‘disaster’ and—if you would have told me that yesterday ago—I don’t think I would have remembered it.”

“I am always glad to help.”

“Look, Hank, a limber timber bear. I’m going to ride it.”

“Get off, you irresponsible fool, for that is a blatant show of disrespect. That short-faced bear would have gnawed you to pieces have he lived. You are vandalizing his skeletal remains and are smacking your ankles against his rib cages, as if he were a race horse. Have you no sense of decency?”

“I’m no Nancy, Hank.”

“Quiet, do you hear that?”

“Organ Sturgeon swishing through rat holes. I’ve heard that many times, but never have either.”

“It’s as though this Page-Turner Museum is coming alive.”

“Well, it’s living with us, I think. Muses always keep going. You need a shower or something, because I can smell a wildebeest something McOthers somewhere here.”

“That is not I, genius.”

“Hank, now we both know you don’t bathe yourself. The sours are busy elsewhere and we are alone looking at bony tonsil things, or something belonging to who knows what else.”

“There it is again.”

“I had beans for lunch. I knew if I told, you’d be mad—Hank, how come you didn’t tell me about your big dog?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“The giant dog that’s looking at me. He has these really big teeth and everything.”

“That is no dog of mine, for that is a Woolly Mammoth. I will not remain here much longer. They are vengeful creatures, and you are always welcome to have your fun. So long.”

“He won’t hurt us, Hank; he’s yippy.”

“Yes he will, so either move or be removed. It is sounding its charging trumpet as we stand.”

“Just one last hello.”

“Grab my robe.”

“But, I like mine.”

“Just grab my robe.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Forget this dangerous trip.”

Hank and Duke at the La Brea Tar Pits

24 Oct

Duke: “That desert was sure scrumptious, Hank.”

Hank: “Would you stop spitting flames every two feet? We’ve been in Los Angeles this entire trimester. No squirrel could survive a climate like that.”

“What’s a—”

“I will not have such outlandish tongue in my esteemed presence, for slain wildebeests lay within the black disease just ahead.”

“Is that why the sours are so shy?”

“Dearest Duke, dinosaurs have not trampled this terrain for many a year.”

“How many?”

“Quite a lot.”

“That’s tons of birthdays.”

“Correct, Duke. The earth is happy dinosaurs have been vanquished from existence. Just look at that cowboy singing over there; he seems quite content with the situation.”

“I kind of like his style if you care to ask me, Hank.”

“Figures.”

“How many fingers?”

“Ninety-nine thousand.”

“That’s a lot of palms, right?”

“Good lord.”

“So they say.”

“Nothing can snap you out of this hallucinogenic spell.”

“Maybe a witch who is Jack of all trades or something. Can I go swimming, Hank? It’s awfully hot and the sours seem to be having fun.”

“You dare dip one toe in that swamp and it will be the last you ever take.”

“My dream is to catch fish in a barrel. Olly Olly Oxen Free.”

“Do be careful, Duke, for we both know you cannot swim. As for myself, I will be heading over to the Page-Turner Museum. Meet me there if you survive the plunge.”

“I’ve chickened out, Hank. Those sourpusses don’t seem like they’re having fun. It’s a bubbling mess out here anyways, or something.”

“Then allow me to educate you.”

AS I WALK IN THE SHADOWED VALLEY OF DEATH

23 Oct

As I Walk in the Shadowed Valley of Death there standing by an empty plot is you,

crestfallen and

morose, with not a tear

streaking you grieve.

As I Walk in the Shadowed Valley of Death there standing by a headstone is you

with not a trace of life

within, standing resolute

maintaining religious looks.

As I Walk in the Shadowed Valley of Death I see you out a church window

back towards an eerie, festive breeze

your coattails fluttering like bees

Your face keeping a demon’s pace putting me to rest

As I Walk in the Shadowed Valley of Death.

 

 

Copyright © 2012 J.R. Leyvas

 

J.R. Leyvas

Writer, blogger, aspiring Fantasy author, screenwriter, poet