Recent Changes

Please post homework in the "Discussion" tab above. Thanks.
Stuart & Donald
Course Book: The Writer's Journey. Christopher Vogler. 3rd Edition.

Homework: Mar. 4th - Plot
Zach Dean

No title for this romantic comedy:

Our story begins with Ronald. Ronald is a 42 year old white man from Michigan. He works as a IT manager at a company not far from where he grew up, in fact the house he lives in now is less then fifty miles from the house he grew up in. He married his high school sweet heart, his wife's name is Rachael, they have two kids. A daughter, named Jenna, who is about to leave for college and a fifteen year old son, named Russ, who is too cool for his lame family. Ronald is in a bit of a rut. He spends most nights watching old episodes of He-man and eating at least a pint of ice cream before going to bed. His wife is worried about his health so she tries to get him to stop. But on the nights when he doesn't eat ice cream he ends rummaging through the fridge for food up around three in the morning, while asleep.

Work is suffering also because, just like at home, Ronald seems lethargic and detached. His boss has had to sit down with him to ask him “what's going on?” and see if there is anything he can do to help. Ronald assures him that everything is fine and that he just hasn't been sleeping all that well. His boss takes him at his word, for now, but also plans to keep an eye on him just to make sure.

One day Ronald comes home early and over hears his wife talking to one of her sisters over the phone about the troubles that have been going on as of late. She confides in her sister that Ronald hasn't been himself, she's worried and not sure what to do. Also their sex life has become nonexistent and she feels like he doesn't love her anymore. She begins to cry as she shares the idea that has been swimming around in her head “I feel like our marriage is sinking...and I don't, I just don't know what to do to keep us afloat. I feel like I have to do it all on my own, Ronald is completely checked out. And I don't know how much more of this I can take. I don't want to get a divorce, but I can't live like this.”

Devastated, something snaps in Ronald. He loves his wife and he would do anything to keep her, including what he decides to do next. He goes up into his son's room, wades through the almost endless piles of cloths, books, magazines and plates. He searches through the room for the magazine he saw his son with just the other day. “Ah ha!” he says as he finds the Men's Health magazine with the cover story “10 fail proof new age ways to spice up your love life and keep your woman.” Just what a man in Ronald's position needs to save his marriage.

The first thing he does is start going to Tantra yoga classes at the local yoga studio that just opened up. He stands out like a sore thumb there, but he is determined to make his wife happy again. Unfortunately yoga doesn't work out to well because one, it's incredibly painful and hard. And two, on the third class he runs into his daughter! They have this really awkward moment of discovering each others dirty little secret and agree not to tell on each other.

Although he doesn't rat his daughter out he is still really concerned about why she wants to learn Tantra. So he decides to sit her down a couple of days later and have “the talk” with her and grill her about why she wants to learn Tantra. This back fires on him. One, she has learned all of the stuff in “the talk” from school. And two, she's lets him have it with a “it's none of your business!!” rant and she ends up reversing the line of questioning onto him. He acts like a deer in headlights and from his perspective barely gets out of there with his head in tact.

Next is to get massaged regularly, because stress reduction is a big help in being relaxed and natural with you lady. And the first time he goes is great. He gets a rather attractive woman and he falls asleep half way through, he was very relaxed, so relaxed in fact the massive boner he gets during the massage doesn't wake him up. But is does make the massage therapist very uncomfortable, so uncomfortable in fact that Ronald gets blacklisted from getting a female therapist ever again.

The visit, despite it's bad outcome for the therapist, does give Ronald the brilliant idea to give his wife a massage that night. He goes out and buys some nice massage oil and sets up the room with candles and such. Brings her in blindfolded and surprises her with the massage. But because she's not totally ready for the oil and him being on top of her she freaks out and in her thrashing accidentally hits him in the nuts!...ouch.

He explains what he was trying to do, and that it was all an attempt to help her relax. After that ordeal he figures he needs another massage, which he schedules for next week.

The next day he tries to get his son to go down to the arcade with him for a day of games, skee ball and bowling. Followed by pizza and root beer floats, a guys day, like they used to do when Russ was little. Russ groans and gives him all kinds of teenager attitude while saying no. Hurt, Ronald spends the next day in his pj's doing nothing but watching old episodes of Battlestar Galactica.

The week seems to fly by and Ronald is actually excited about getting his next massage. But because of the incident from before when he goes he gets the biggest burliest man they have...and he is not the kindest with his pressure while working on Ronald. Ronald leaves sore and more stressed out then ever before and promises himself never to do that again.

After giving up on massage Ronald tries the next suggestion which is a change of diet that includes a unique mixture of herbs. He rationalizes this attempt with his family as just being a “diet” because lets be honest he could stand to lose some weight. The “diet” is the thing he tries the longest but is also the most “torturous” experience because well, Ronald loves food! Not nearly as much as his wife and kids but it's definitely a close second. So one night he decides to cheat on his diet a bit and cook a huge dinner for himself and his wife. With all of their favorite foods. It is a great success and it looks like Ronald is going to “get some” that night. But unfortunately for him his body, after not eating that kind of food for quite awhile, can't handle all those calories and maintain normal functions. So he passes out on the couch with the “itis” as the kids these days call it, or a food coma for you older folks.

Also because of the diet he's not getting all the nutrients he usually gets. That coupled with the massive overload on his system from the night before. The two factors catch up with him at work the next day and he has a heart attack.

Ronald is rushed to the hospital where doctors save his life by preforming minor surgery on his heart. Not quite a double bypass but close. Ronald wakes up surrounded by his family and what he sees is “perfection”: his daughter is slightly distraught and talking about staying home for a while longer. His son is actually acknowledging his existence and his wife is so loving.

And that's when it hits him. The rut he has been in is because he has been seeing himself as a failure. As a father, as a husband and as a man. But he isn't. His beautiful daughter is strong and smart and there is no reason for her to delay going to college on his account. With her he also realizes he wasn't ready to lose her, but he now knows he won't. And as for his son Russ, the boy is just growing up and isn't as interested in the same things he was when he was a kid. So Ronald decides to get more interested and involved in what his son is interested in now.





Finally he comes clean with his wife about all he's been trying to do. About how he over heard her conversation with her sister and how he would do anything to make her happy. His wife is touched but lets him know that it's him she loves, just the way he is. But that is would be nice if they went on more dates and maybe tried that massage thing again.

Ronald is eventually allowed to go home. Just in time to take his daughter to college. We see a scene of him and his son hanging out doing things his son likes to do. And a scene of Ronald and his wife in their bedroom with candles and massage oil. Life is good.

The end of the movie show the Men's Health magazine open to the number one thing on the “10 fail proof new age ways to spice up your love life and keep your woman.” list. Which is “just be yourself!” now if only Ronald had skipped to that one first he wouldn't have had to go through all that trouble.

Homework: Mar. 7th - Plot Dialogue
Zach Dean

I did this wrong. This dialogue has nothing to do with my plot. But I really like what I wrote, so enjoy:

Jonathan: Nothing is sacred any more dude.

Zach: No, that's not true you can have something inside of you and hold it as sacred.

Jonathan: Your mom held me inside of her and it was scared last night!...Oh!

Jonathan begins to laugh hardily. Zach joins in but with more of a forced tone.

Zach: Oh yeah? You know what's funny about that?...my mom is DEAD!...asshole! So you fucked my dead mother?

Jonathan: Hey man, what can I say? I like me some decayed ass. I find the squishiness of it very pleasurable. I guess you could call me, ah...oh what's it called, oh right. A necrophiliac.

Zach: Really? Necrophilia? Wow. That was fast. I mean...really? Dead flesh?

Jonathan: Yup.

Zach: Jonathan, you remember how I said friends can tell each other anything? I lied. You. You don't get to tell me shit anymore. That's just, that's just some fucked up shit.

Jonathan: What man? I got bored with sheep! What do you want me to do?! I'm only human!

Zach: Seriously man!? Look. I know times have been tough lately...what with the zombies and all. And I get that there is a huge pool to draw from out here. But dead people? I mean. I know that woman are getting pretty scarce around here, hell I wasn't really getting any before the shit hit the fan. But still. That is not a good enough reason to justify congress with a rotting corpse man!

Jonathan: What can I say, I loves me some of that sweet, slightly bruised, cold meat. Hell! Throw some cowboy chili rub on there and make me some decayed ass jerky!

Zach: That's just gross dude. No man! And I mean no man, needs to stoop that low! For love of “Pete and Pete” man! Use your hand!!! That's one of the many reasons God gave it to you!

Jonathan: Dude! Not cool man! Not cool! You know damn well that I lost my hand in the war! And I ain't no ambidex-jerk guy either! And I don't know if YOU have ever tried to jerk-off with a hook? But that shit hurts!...no wonder Captain Hook was so pissed off all the time. So fuck you! I will fuck what I want! When I want!

Zach: Alright...alright. Drive the fucking car.

Homework: Wednesday, Feb. 23 - Dirty Hippie :)
Zach Dean

The death of a dirty hippie

It's my phone, not my alarm, that shakes me from that dream I've had three times this week. The other difference is it's not six in the morning...it's three. It's my captain and all he says is “ I know your not on the clock, but you're going to want to see this. Get out to 3144 Oak road, now” he hangs up without me uttering a response.
Ten minutes later I am turning right onto Oak road, parking my car, walking past the circle with the stump of the great oak tree that once grew there, pushing past the crowd that had gathered to watch the light show, and flashing my badge to the officer guarding the tape as I lifted it up over my head. I walk up the drive way and am pointed towards the back by another officer. Around back is a green lawn with a stone terrace and an indoor pool surrounded by sliding glass doors and windows. The yard shares it's back fence with a private school's sports fields. Picturesque. Except for the Volkswagen that has driven through the fence into the pool, taking out a good chunk of the terrace on it's way. In the pool room I find the late shift detectives Ellsworth and St. Commons, the CSI team, and my Captain talking to the rather shaken up owners of the house. Their distress is understandable because this is a generally quiet section of the more regularly tumultuous city of Philadelphia. I walk up behind him, making sure to give enough distance for him to notice me but also not to interrupt the questions he is ask. If I get to close to the home owners they may get nervous, rush their responses. It is an art form, the art of questioning and the captain is one of the best I've ever seen. I welcome the time anyway because it gives me the chance to look the scene over, take it in and built my first impression.
The pool has been drained so the CSI team can get at the Volkswagen Rabbit, most likely a '79 or '80 model, that was currently in the shallow end. Inside the Rabbit with an oddly peaceful look on his face is the 60 something looking driver. He is soaking wet and his cloths cling to his body. He has long hair tied back in a ponytail and his shirt says “Nothing to do since '72” and there is an outline of a state, Iowa if I'm not mistaken. In the seat next to him is a nearly empty case of Rollin' Rock beer, in it's famous green bottle. One of the more weird things is the several gallons of vegetable oil in the back of the car. I look over to see the Captain is wrapping things up with the home owners.
When he does he walks over to me with a look in his eye's that says “it to early for this...” and begins. “Mr. and Mrs. Glassman, were sleeping when they heard a loud noise. Came down stairs to check it out and found this.” He sweeps his arm out as to reveal a magic trick over the crime scene. “They have no enemies that they can thing of and are rather shaken, as you most likely saw.” Before I can even ask, he begins again, “Routine, I know, so why are you here? Why can't Ellsworth and St. Commons deal with this? They're good detectives, and you're right...they are. I trust me if I could still be a sleep right now, I would. But the CSI team found something when they drained the car.” He holds up a clear evidence bag and inside is something I was almost certain I was going to see tonight. Because it's the only thing that could be so important about this crime scene that it would warrant waking both the Captain and I up for. A book, more specifically a children's book, and more specifically then that “The Farmer and the Viper” an Aesop fable. The calling card, so to speak, of the nursery rhyme killer. The man I've been hunting since the first murder occurred right here in Philadelphia no more then six months ago.
Since then he has been a busy little psychopath, killing people all over the country from Miami to Chicago. Always leaving that same story of trust, betrayal and the nature of a venomous creature. No doubt he sees himself as one such creature. “Figured as much.” I say in a tone that shows I hope this is a bad dream. “Well your not going to wake up from this one Detective Farrell, trust me, I've tried.” said the Captain with a smirk. I hate it when he reads my mind like that! Gives me the willies. He heads for the door closest to us and begins to tell me what I already know, “I'm going home, to bed, and I leave this in your capable hands. This is your show, I want a name of the victim, where he's from? What the hell is the vegetable oil in the back for? Anything and everything. And then I want you to see what, if anything, he has in common with the other victims we can link to this twisted individual.” He finishes while shaking the Aesop fable in his hand.
“You can count on me sir!” I manage to get out, in a sarcastic “by the book” cop voice, before he is gone around the corner and down the drive way. It's time to get to work, and that is exactly what I do. First I go over and talk with the distraught couple who are still standing by the deep end. I make sure they are doing alright, or as good as can be expected, I also suggest that they may want to go stay at a friend or family members for a couple days. Mostly because we are going to need that time to process the scene and clear the car, but also because getting away from the scene of trauma often helps in the process of dealing with and letting go of that trauma. They appreciate my concern and something in my suggestion wakes the husband up. It's like I've given him the task he was looking for to help him get over the shock. He takes his wife inside of the house and they begin to figure out accommodations for the next couple days.
With the couple properly taken care of I turn my attention back on the crime scene. I walk over to Ellsworth and St. Commons, two good detectives, well one and a half really Ellsworth hasn't ever been the brightest bulb in the bunch. St. Commons on the other hand, she's sharp real sharp but slightly distracted as of late due to the apparent murder of her brother. I know she's not fully here, but that's ok, even on her worst day she's still a good enough detective as any.
“What have you two put together in the time you've been here?” I ask. Ellsworth gives me a look that almost says “seriously?” but he doesn't say that what he says is “We got as much as this psycho usually gives us, damn near nothing. The victim is a 60 something white male, no plates on the vehicle which the boys tell me is a 1980 Volkswagen Rabbit. The victim had nothing on him except his wallet.” he says as he hands me the wallet in a evidence bag. As I look at the wallet Ellsworth tells me “There is was nothing in there, no driver's license, no cash, no cards, nothing except this.” He hand me another evidence bag, this one has a picture in it. One of those ones made for wallets by schools or sports teams on picture day. It's a little damaged from the water but you can still clearly make out a little boy, no more then seven years old, blond hair, blue eyes, wearing a St. Louis Cardinals t-shirt and holding a baseball bat. I flip it over and see there is something written on the back “remember who you are doing all of this for.”. Doing what? It's obvious he's doing it for the kid, but what is the action? “Ok, first we need to get the vin number of the vehicle run it to see what comes up. The victim is wearing a shirt that says “Nothing to do since '72” and what looks like the state outline of Iowa. Check to see if my hunch is right and if so, check to see if the car is registered in the state of Iowa. Ellsworth you take care of that business. St. Commons I want you looking into the vegetable oil in the back of the car, find out what he was using it for. Once we get an idea of where this guy came from we can start looking into where he was going.” I finish telling them what to do and move over to the CSI team to see what they can tell me.
“What have we got Chuck?” I ask the slightly over weight guy who is the head of the CSI team currently assisting with the scene. “Well good morning to you too detective Farrell. We've got quite a bit. Besides the wallet, the picture and the boogie man's calling card. We also found 10 gallons of cheap vegetable oil and a yoga mat in the back. That coupled with the t-shirt, the long hair and the dirt under his nails, leads me to believe this man was a “dirty hippie”.” He pauses for a laugh that isn't coming and then continues. “Right, sorry forgot, my right wing humor doesn't fly with you “intellectual types”.” I smirk, “Chuck your jokes wouldn't fly if you put wings on them and taught them how. Any thing else?” Chuck laughs, he doesn't like the detectives much but he knows I respect what he does, despite his character flaws. “ Everyone's a critic. Anyway that's what we've got so far, not quite done doing a through sweep of the car yet. But you'll be the first to know, if anything turns up.”
Just then Perkins pops her head out of the car and yells “ Hey boss! I think I got something.” as she lifts up a 9mm baretta. “See!” says Chuck, “first to know.”. “Great” I say, “This case just got a little more interesting. Let me guess, the serial number has been filed off?”. Perkins takes a look and shakes her head “No, still here. That's very unlike our killer though isn't it?”. It is, which means it's a new piece to the puzzle, one that might give us some hope. Or it could just be a dead end.

Homework: Feb. 28 - Protagonist/Antagonist
Zach Dean

My name is John Farrell. I am a detective in the 5th Precinct of the great city of Philadelphia. I love what I do, I help protect the good people of Philadelphia. For as long as I can remember I've wanted to help people. See, I was raised by my mom, dad decided he couldn't be bothered when I was six months old. Which was fine because my grand mom and grand pa were around and helped out my mom. My grandfather was a great man, since retiring he spent most of his time volunteering and he would often bring me. I guess that's where I learned it from. I would help elderly ladies with their groceries, stand up against the bullies who tried to pick on the weaker kids. You know, stuff like that. Some kids called me a “goodie, goodie” but I never let it bother me. I was a good guy, I was a hero, and I saw cops as the ultimate superheroes.
Then my whole world got turned upside down. My mom and I came home one night from seeing a movie, and we were greeted by police cars, news vans and flashing lights. Long story short: bad guy broke into my grandparents house, got spooked and killed them both. The cops never found the guy. My heroes, my superheroes, let me down. Turns out they weren't super after all, they're just human, like me. I wanted to be a super hero, but there are no real superheroes in this world. So I settled for being a cop, saving common folks from common criminals. I worked my way up to detective where I could protect people from those who thought they could play god and get away with it.
Like I said, I love my job; but it has it's cost. Work has to take precedent over certain things sometimes, a fact of the job my ex-wife could never understand. She left me three years ago and fought hard to keep my visitation rights meager. She knew I didn't have any money as a cop, so she took the one thing I loved, my kids. I see them as often as I am allowed by the court and I make sure they always know how much I love them, which they do because I call them every night to remind them. They are good kids. Mathew is seven and Rebecca is six, and I promised myself I wouldn't miss their lives. So I make sure I'm around, as much as I can and I try to repel as often as I can. I try to be a good example for them.
This is my life, or was my life until recently when a murder came across my desk that no one else would touch. I soon learned that no one would touch it because, except for a few off details, it didn't look like a murder. But it was, and it was only the first of many throughout the country. Same style of killing, same calling a card, a children's book called “The Farmer and the Viper” from Aesop's fables. Which is actually a play off the story of the frog and the scorpion. Everyone started calling him the “Nursery Rhythm Killer”, I pointed out it's not a nursery rhythm but in fact a fable. Everyone told me to shut it. He, or she, leaves no evidence save the book and items purposefully left to make it look like an accident or suicide. And there wasn't even remotely a pattern or any repeat murders in the same city, until this morning. When a man from Iowa was killed and made to look like a drunk driving accident when his car was crashed into someone's pool.
I set up a collaboration among the detectives running point on the other murders in other cities, but unfortunately it hasn't produced much. And the FBI hasn't gotten involved yet because they're still not fully convinced this is a serial killer. So this is where I stand, searching through the dark trying to catch the boogie man. Hoping I do before more people get hurt, and so I can get back to trying to piece my family back together.

Homework: Friday, Feb. 25. - Observation Homework
It's a busy Friday afternoon in Revelations.

“See didn't I tell you this would be good?”

There is a constant chatter in the room. Various groups of people sharing, communing, teaching, listening and laughing.

“Oh, I heard about that...”

Two older ladies are sitting almost in front of me. Both in different shades of purple. One woman is wearing a dark purple low cut v-neck shirt, a brownish grey leather jacket with what I hope is fake fur on the inside. Her phone explodes into noise, she answers “Hello?”. She's done up in make-up, mascara, foundation and lipstick. She has light brown hair with blond highlights. She is a serious business women.

The table I am writing on is wobbly. A distraction my partner in observation “crime” Jen tries to remedy. We spend a moment figuring out which leg is wobbly, we find the not quite level leg. Jen asks “napkins?”. I'm content to place my foot on the pesky leg, it works just fine.

“She's not a good watch dog.” I hear from the women sitting to my right. She is wearing a white slightly see through zip up sweat shirt with a hood, a bright pink shirt under it, and khaki pants. She has glasses and a stern face that seems softened by the conversation with her friend. Her friend is wearing a light pink long sleeved shirt and blue jeans. As they finish their conversation they both get up throw on scarfs and jackets. The women in pink stops to talk to two gentlemen she knows while the other women checks out books. The women in pink says “She you Sherry, that was fun.” As her friend, Sherry, leaves Rev's. The women in pink heads to the back of the store to do something. I don't see what because I am writing. As she makes her way tot eh door I see she is wearing big round glasses, her face is rather flush and quite full. She is a bit over weight wearing a purple scarf and a turquoise jacket. She has a very friendly open look about her.

Most of the people in Rev's are now either leaving or left. Warren walks into the room we are sitting in and tells us there are a great deal more people in the other room. So we move in here and sit near him to observe some more.

“You figure 80 gigs, where you sell cd's, and other mech on top of what you are already making at the gate. That's not bad. There were making 40,000, on top of having their jobs.” A rather loud man at the table across from me says. I try to keep up with the conversation but they are talking too fast. All I know is they are talking about musical acts and how to go about making money as one. Also today is the birthday of the woman sitting next to the rather loud man.

There is a man sitting by himself at a table to my right. He is clean cut with glasses, a beard and a blue button down shirt. He is absorbed in his laptop, intently working on the project that will put him on the maap in the world of historical fiction. He is wearing a head set that are headphones with a mic attached to them and is listening to classical music through them will he does research on the internet and scribbles down inspirations onto his yellow legal pad. The cup of coffee next to his mouse gets sipped only when his mind stops thinking about any and everything else.

“I was being forced, I couldn't sleep until I sat down and wrote that damn letter. After that I laid down and slept for an hour and a half.”

“Well that's how it goes sometimes. Sometimes you need a push to open pandora's box and be prepared to see what comes out.”

Homework: Mar. 9th - Pick A Clip
Push: Call to adventure example: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zFYfb4OYS_g

Kung Fu Panda: Mentor & Threshold Guardian
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EIXRkShk2V4

Anger Management: Trickster/Shadow Mentor
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-GV46SUcWs

Homework: Mar. 9th - Pick A Clip
Movie Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lSC2U2yYESw&tracker=False

Scenes: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d6cNFTAoLZw&tracker=False


Dirty Rotten Scoundrels:

Freddie (Steve Martin): Protagonist Trickster (embodies mischief and desire for change, comical character but less likeable than his Mentor).

Lawrence (Michael Caine): Mentor Trickster (eventual Shadow Mentor Trickster, when he tries to defeat his student, Freddie)



Freddie is a somewhat unlikable trickster protagonist who works as a small-time con man. He has recently come to the south of France for an adventure and to gain more riches than he was able to find in the States. He is looking for change and transformation when he meets and is tricked by his Mentor, Lawrence Jameson, a very debonair and successful con man who has a beautiful estate in the town of Beaumont Sur Mer on the French Riviera. Lawrence has connections with the local Police Inspector (A Harold and Ally) to protect and help him. They encounter Freddie trying to take over the town with his two-bit tricks and Freddie blackmails him becoming Freddie’s Mentor and teaching him the tricks of the high-end trade.

In the following scene grouping, Lawrence is pulling his usual con, but this time, he will use his student, Freddie, in on the con. Lawrence is lead to a Call to Action by the Police Inspector (who is not shown in the scenes) who keeps up on the local comings and goings of wealthy tourists. They target shallow and/or stupid wealthy American woman. Lawrence plays the same trick over and over which has made him a large fortune: He pretends to be a king in asylum from a small, fictitious nation where he’s the ruler. He tells the woman that his country is fighting for their freedom against communist invaders. He charms the women into his arms, takes their “donations” for his freedom fighters and then carefully sends them packing. Now that Lawrence has a student who wants to learn, he sets up a new scenario where Freddie becomes his mentally handicapped brother, Ruprect, who he uses to make the shallow woman forget about their donations and go back to the US, never to return. Freddie is now on the part of his journey where he is being Tested (as well as used). This is Freddie’s Approach to the Inmost Cave since he has now made the adjustment to the Special World of Lawrence’s Beaumont Sur Mer and is now going to seek what is at the heart of this world.

The men soon after encounter Miss Colgate, who is the Antagonist Trickster and eventually, a Shapeshifter.

Homework: Mar. 7th - Plot Dialogue
Daniel Iwanicki
March 7, 2011
Plot Dialogue

There is sincerity in the eyes of a snake. Transparent eyelids coupled with solid black eyes creates the illusion of complete certainty and the observer trusts the wide-jawed face absolutely. The white and yellow snake twisted confidently through the pile of straw near Hammond. As the snake neared, Hammond could hear it singing an eerie song in a language he did not understand. While watching the intricate creature move, he knew that he was not escaping its beady eyes that sparkled with intelligence and the cheer of song. Suddenly, with acoil, the snake stopped its singing and addressed Hammond with a smooth nod.

“Tell me, traveler, with minimal devise, of which time is more to you a vice. Does your bliss with sun in the sky rise? Or perhaps grow when the light dies?” The snake’s head bobbed with the “s” sounds in an inquisitive manner.

“You mean to ask me which I prefer; day or night?” Hammond straightened his back preparing for the conversation.

“Yes. Now I press, you are a creature that to which either brings success. The matter is surely a trifle contest, but tell me, which to you is best?”

“The answer is simple. It is night. The moonflower opens and the hummingbird sucks nectar in the shade of its petals. The mysterious creatures of the Earth approach, only to still be hidden. Even the snake comes out to catch its prey.” Hammond’s eyes shimmered in excitement. His hands followed the motion of the buzzing hummingbird and the slithering snake he spoke about.

“And what of warmth and clarity? The sun’s ability to bring transparency?” The snake coiled with its question.

“What about life is transparent? The thing that can hide its intentions can more easily meet them. The creature that can hide itself, that can control its visibility, has more power than the thing that is obvious in the light.” He leaned closer to the snake in a crouch. “What others cannot see, they cannot control. The night gives way to those who do not want to be seen.”

“And what of warmth?”

“Warmth and light do not correspond,” Hammond pieced his thoughts together as his hand rubbed his face. “Warmth is determined by the season, not the hour.”

“How ignorant is human skin to not feel the light. The heat of God is true and excites, the senses all turn bright. And what say you to those whose vision is for night?” The snakes tongue moved proudly and surely towards Hammond, whose eyes followed its wide yellow jaw.

“If your vision is for night, then what time could be better for you? Your prey is blind and helpless. And why honor a judging god when the night offers full freedom?”

The snake rose to meet Hammond's face, its unblinking eyes full of fire. “The sun has judged wisely in giving us life as well as all things, although they may pester or provide.”

“It’s not about the judgment of the sun, but how light allows others to see and judge. Why subject yourself to light when you can hide from the glare of the world?”

“I see, yes, I see. There is your own glare in your own eye. A shine that shadows the sun and keeps your reality awry. The shallow human flesh that peels in pry and to honesty is shy. There is no prey, but those who are afraid and that is read from more than the eye.” The snake’s body started to wiggle smoothly in its near-standing position and it began to whisper another song. The song was obscure and in a language Hammond had never heard. It reminded him of quick streams, swift breezes through branches, and the chirp of a distant cricket. It led his mind to landscapes he had yet seen. There is mystery in the voice of the snake.

Homework: Mar. 4th - Plot
Daniel Iwanicki
March 4th, 2011
Plot outline

The main character of the story is a man of undefined age named Hammond. Hammond is a tumbleweed, a vagabond. He was never able to settle and has spent his life jumping trains, couch surfing, and traveling in any means he possibly can. He makes money by working on farms here and there. He enjoys reading, writing, and identifying plants. He is an artist of sorts and enjoys drawing pictures in his notebooks. He is minimalistic, keeping mostly everything he owns in a green canvas backpack.

The story begins with Hammond finding himself in a city at night time. The city is unspecified, but Hammond seems to know it well and has been there several times before and recalls a memory of an ice cream cone he had once while in the city before. There are small clues to the reader that this could possibly be the place where Hammond grew up, both no solid proof.

In the city he finds an alley he remembers as safe and finds shelter from the rain. He begins to draw a picture of a mountain landscape and ponders where he will go next. He didn’t intend to run into a storm that night and is anxious to leave the city because of its stormy disposition. His thoughts are interrupted by a kitten’s call.
Hammond finds the kitten in the alley. It is all black with big yellow eyes. He decides to take care of it and keeps it in his shirt overnight and feeds it a can of tuna he had in his backpack.

By morning time, Hammond feels a responsibility for the kitten and decides to keep it. He has also decided that he must make some money to buy the kitten some food, knowing that “people” food does not contain taurine, an amino acid necessary for cat eyesight. His plan is to hop a train and go south to a farm he knows he can work at. He feels that he could maybe even live in the town he intends to go to. Perhaps the kitten is shaping his life. At this point it is unclear what is changing his vagabond spirit- the kitten or suppressed want for stability.
It is still raining when he walks to the train tracks on the outskirts of the town. He is holding the kitten and on the way a few people look at him as they normally do, thinking about how much of an outcast he is. He hurried to the tracks to protect the kitten from these harmful glances.

He gets to the tracks and waits in the rain, anxious. It is clear that anxiety is something he is used to, but is a feeling he normally suppresses. The train comes and he hops in one of the last boxcars. It is a little dirty with piles of hay and some corn husks laying around. The kitten becomes busy sniffing around the car. Hammond names the kitten Puck. Hammond is getting a sleepy, but is startled when a corn snake (yellow and white) comes out of a near pile of hay and begins speaking to him.

The snake is clever and apparently, well read. They begin to debate- which is better, night or day? The snake argues the “day” side and Hammond takes the “night” side. The snake argues that day is better because the sun is warm and makes the plants grow that he then creates a home in. He focuses on the nourishing aspects of the sun as a Platonic deity. Hammond argues that night is a time of freedom and indulgence and one can choose to be seen, whereas in day they cannot choose this. He focuses on the night as a time of hiding. Both are clever arguers and neither really “win” the debate because Hammond falls asleep.

Hammond wakes up several hours later and finds Puck eating the snake. He opens the door of the boxcar and reveals that it is now night time. He thinks about his position in the debate and the value of being able to hide and choose to be seen. He watches the landscape move by him, but the train eventually comes to a stop. Hammond closes the door and begins to make a place to hide just in case workers were coming to check the cars, but before he can get the door closed, he sees a line of ghosts walking near the tracks towards his car.
The ghosts are that of men who built the railroads. They stop near Hammond’s car and continue their conversation which is a debate- which is better, life or death? The three ghosts that take the “life” side reflect on being with their families, drinking at bars, and having hope for the future. The other three ghosts that take the “death” side argue that they are no longer in pain from hard labor, they no longer have expectations to meet, and don’t have to worry about money. As they leave, Hammond observes that although they may not be laboring, even in death they must haunt the tracks they bent over all their lives.

The train starts again and Hammond falls asleep wondering his own future haunting and petting Puck. He tells Puck about the debate the ghosts were having and tells Puck about the farm where they are going.
The next day Hammond keeps the boxcar door open and watches the landscape go by. He knows that he has to get off in a town that is now getting close. He pets Puck and recites poetry from T.S. Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats. His fun is interrupted when the train slows and he spots the farm he has been planning to go to. This is strange because he thought it was much farther than that and he also did not think is was so close to the train tracks. This is very confusing for him, but the farmhouse fits the house in his memory and so do the barn and the small garden between the two. The train comes to a stop as Hammond is still searching his mind for answers about the farm’s mysterious location. He eventually decides it must be the place and grabs his backpack. He searches for Puck so that he can hold him while they get off the train. He searches the boxcar, but cannot find Puck. He searches frantically and then gets off and searches outside. He cannot find Puck and spends a long time looking.

In despair he takes a few steps towards the farm in which his former goals led him to. As he gets closer to the farmhouse, he notices how it is rundown and the plants in the garden are overgrown with weeds. He sees rocks in the fields. The windows on the house are grey and dangerous. He stands just outside of the farm and watches a corn snake twist around a stock of corn. The story ends with the desolate description of the abandoned house and the farm in disarray. He thinks about how the scene is riddled with snakes hidden in the corn and in the house. He watches white paint peels fall off the house in the breeze.