A scene from The Leopard Man

Chill beneath a cadaverously gray autumn sky, the tiny New Mexico town. That slate moment in the seasons when everything begins to grow dark. The epileptic scratching of fallen leaves hurled along sidewalks. Mad sounds from the hills. Cold. And something else:

A leopard, escaped, is loose in the town. Chill beneath a crawling terror of spotted death in the night, the tiny New Mexico town. That thick red moment in the fears of small people when everything explodes in the black flow of blood. A deep-throated growl from a filthy alley. Cold.

A mother, preoccupied with her cooking, tells her small daughter to go down the street to the market, get a sack of flour to make bread for the father, coming home from work soon. The child shows a moment of fear… the animal they haven’t found yet…

The mother insists, it’s only a few blocks and across the bridge to the market. Put on a shawl and go and get the flour, your father will be home soon. The child goes. Hurrying back up the street, the small sack held close to her, the street empty and filling with darkness, ink presses down the sky, the child looks around, and hurries. A cough in the blackness behind her. A cough, deep in a throat that never formed human sounds.

The child’s eyes widen in panic. She begins to hurry. Her footsteps quicken. The sound of padding behind her. Feet begin to run. Focus on darkness and the sound of rapid movement. The child. The rushing.

The wooden door of the house. The door is locked. The child pinned against the night, with the furred sound of agony rushing toward her on the wind.

Inside, the mother, still kitchened, waiting. The sound of the child outside, panic and bubbles of hysteria in the voice, Mommy open the door the leopard is after me!

The mother’s face assumes the ages-old expression of harassed parenthood. Hands on hips, she turns to the door, you’re always lying, telling fibs, making up stories, how many times have I told you lying will —

Mommy! Open the door!

You’ll stay out there until you learn to stop lying!

Mommy! Mom–

Something gigantic hits the door with a crash. The door bows inward, and a fine spray of flour sifts between the cracks into the room. The mother’s eyes grow huge, she stares at the door. A thick black stream, moving very slowly, seeps under the door.

Annnd.. Scene.
kiki and the leopard

The movie is great. Has one of the best “Trapped in a graveyard” sequences I’ve ever viewed.


latest /. –

Public domain superheroes.

I’ve been hearing the terms shiznit and bling bling waaaaay too often these last two days. They make me laugh, though, so it’s ok. Or should I say “It’s all good”.

Kount von Numbakrunch out. word.

The moon’s lovely tonight. I think I’ll bask.

nigh nigh, dear journal. Off to dream of her and a little glass bottle, filled with exotic, fragrant oils.

p.s. that guy didn’t get suspended… he just got written up.

p.p.s. Holy moley… mskaren911 showed me a link to this gator. This doesn’t happen often, really.

p.p.p.s. A year ago – I f-in’ hate hoboes.

today’s drama.

Kev, Sappho and I sat together in Kev’s office, enjoying a little bull session and lunch. We’re all talking about New Orleans history / Civil War stuff and in walks the Finn. She’s not interested in what we’re talking about (primarily because it’s not about her, natch) and so butts into the middle of our conversation, to make a show of this new CD she bought today. I’m polite enough to look at the cover while she goes through the liner notes. On the inside, there’s a picture of the periodic table of the elements, which spawns a new conversation, science related…(not Finn related) so she starts to get huffy and puffy. She then asks to play a certain song. Sure, ok. We put the CD in and listen for about 20 seconds, and then resume our conversation about whatever we were talking about before… helium-argon lasers or something. My lunchtime was up, so I head back to my desk, after saying my goodbyes, and commenting on the tasty lunch. Four minutes later, I hear a door slam from the vicinity of Kev’s office. Finn walks to my desk, and says (pretty calmly) “No reviews? Not even a ‘This sucks, Marjo.’” My reply was “Nah, I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t love it, either. I’ll give it a straight 5 out of 10. It’s not why I left the office.” She nods, and adjourns to her own office. I return to Kev’s place to get the rest of the skinny, and apparently she pitched a hissy-fit…When nobody gave so much as a critique of the song and instead talked about other, more interesting things, she exclaimed “Well, obviously you guys hate my music!” and left, slamming the door behind her. Sappho made the comment that the maturity levels run really high around here. (Ref: also the Chupacabra/Go Away incident).

I do know that Erica contacted our parent company, and issued formal complaints regarding the Finn’s unproductive, unprofessional behavior. I’ve got to make a point of writing a nice letter to the higher-ups too, reinforcing those statements. (Along with those dealing with Chupa and the Fruit Cup.)

Nice Things – Today Kev got a sea-monkey like critter farm for his birthday- Triops… sort of like a hybrid sea monkey / horseshoe crab. They seem to get larger than monkeys, too. Maybe I’ll give them a shot when my current colony dies off…I wonder if they can cohabitate?