Out-takes

We've been having a lot of fun over at The Misbehaving Mind, and I thought I'd share with you some of the amusing “out-takes” we've done as spin-offs from Shadows Fall.

(Reproduced with full permission from Mike H. - thanks Mike!)

Mike's Alternative Ending:

Trisha sat at Michaela’s computer. She noticed a folder named “When Trish…” Curious, she click on it once and the full name appeared “When Trish is away”. A slow dread came over Trisha. What would Michaela save on her computer that she would only need when Trisha was away? Phone numbers? Addresses? She double clicked on the folder. There was only one file in the folder. From the icon, she could tell it was a video file. She double clicked on it and as she watched it her face went pale.

Standing up with fists clenched she yelled “You said the camera was off!”

* * *

In other Trisha sightings, part one : (Also provided by Mike H.)

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Trisha demanded, reaching over Michaela’s shoulder and pushing the guy away that was standing behind her.

“What do you think I was doing?” he said.

“We were minding our own business dancing and you come over here and hit on us,” Trisha said.

“Well you two were advertising.”

“Advertising?” She looked like she almost swallowed her tongue. At first she seemed dumbfound, then incredulous, “ADVERTISING?! Precisely how were we ADVERTISING?!”

“Well two girls and no guy. You must be looking for one.”

“Did it occur to you that we enjoy dancing with each other and weren’t doing it to fulfill some voyeuristic desire on your part?”

Apparently it did not and still did not.

“Look,” Trisha tried again,”When YOU are dancing with a girl are you ADVERTISING for some sweaty guy to start grinding up against you from behind?”

“No of course not.”

“And neither are we!”

“Why not?”

Words failed her.

She turned to Michaela, “C’mon let’s get out of here.”

When they reached the door, Trisha turned back to the club,”You can put your cell phones away, the lesbians are leaving now. Sorry we didn’t spontaneously fuck for your entertainment. After all that’s what we’re supposed to do in public.”

When they got outside,Trisha suddenly felt herself pushed up against an outside wall of the club.

Michaela had pinned her to the wall with her forearm across Trisha’s chest.

“Michaela, you okay? You’re not mad are you?”

“I’m not mad and I am way more than okay.”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think? We’re going to spontaneously fuck in public. After all that’s what you’re supposed to do when your girlfriend rises to your defense and you know you can’t make it home without tearing her clothes off. Besides, there’s a security camera above us and I need some new footage. Someone deleted my other video.”

Part Two: (provided by Kate Genet)

Trisha leaned back against the wall as Michaela attacked her buttons.
“I always knew I had a dirty mind, but you, Michaela, you take the cake,” she said.

Michaela just grunted as she uncovered the skin she wanted so much.
“And you talk too much, baby,” she said.

Trisha tipped her head back as Michaela grazed her thumb across a nipple.
“Yeah sure. But you not only have a fantastically dirty mind, Michaela, it’s a devious one too,” she said. “I really, really like that in a woman.
But there’s no way in hell we’re getting you another video!”

Part Three: (provided by Mike)

The video game character on the screen was surfing the waves with great precision. Standing sideways in front of the screen with one arm towards the screen and one away was Caro, her posture mimicking the character on screen. She had never been into video games but she really liked the motion tracking surfing simulation.

The onscreen character crashed as she turned around at the sound of the door opening. Trisha entered, her hair rumpled and her shirt missing a couple buttons, which she held closed with one hand.

Caro panicked.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“Oh, I was … uhmm…mugged.”

“Mugged?!” Caro said in disbelief, ”Are you okay, did you call the police, how’s Mich-” her words cut off as Michaela entered equally disheveled. Caro’s eyes narrowed, “Lemme guess. You were ‘mugged’ too?”

“Something like that. There’s been a surge in criminal activity in the region lately.”

“Yeah, apparently public indecency is on the rise,” Caro said, then looking at Trisha, “Apparently your ‘mugger’ wore pink lipstick.”

Trisha blushed, “I think I’m going to take a shower.”

“Try not getting ‘mugged’ in the shower,” Caro said turning back to the television.

“That was yesterday morning,” Michaela whispered to Trisha as they entered the next room. Michela shut the door behind them.

“Hey thanks again for getting Caro the game system. She seems to be having a blast with it. We never could afford one before,” Trisha said.

“Well she helped me with some important computer stuff.”

“Really? What did she help you with,” Trisha asked from the bathroom as Michaela sat down in front of her computer.

On the screen read the message “One deleted file recovered”. Michaela smiled.

“Oh, nothing for you to worry about,” she replied.

(By Kate Genet)

Some characters like to keep on talking outside of their books.

I was outside enjoying the mild evening air one night and admiring the pretty, pearl-coloured moon when Trisha decided to drop by for a chat. We had a most amusing conversation and I just have to share with you the story she had to tell:

Trisha: Hey, you think I could be a writer?

Me: I don’t know. Why, do you want to be one?

Trisha: Not really, I suppose. Don’t think I’d be able to sit still long enough. Besides, I bet you have to know a lot about human nature and shit, right?

Me: I wouldn’t necessarily say that, but you probably need to be the sort of person who thinks about it a lot, at least.

Trisha: Definitely don’t have the patience, then. Hey. I have a hell of a story for you though.

Me: You do? Tell me.

Trisha: All right. No shitting you, this is as true as I’m sitting here, right?

There was this guy used to come into the diner all the time, okay? He killed his wife. You know, murdered her? He got away with it too, but everyone in town knows he’s as guilty as a bear shitting in the woods.

Me: How’d he get away with it?

Trisha: See, this is the story, right? His name’s Pat but everyone calls him Fat Pat. Didn’t used to be fat, was as fit as anything all his life but few years back he started putting on weight. Out of the blue, like, started piling on the pounds, scarfing burgers and fries every night at the diner then going home to eat whatever his wife cooked for him too, I’ll bet.

He got pretty huge all right – not big enough to be stuck in bed all day like those grossly enormous guys you see on TV sometimes, but pretty fucking big anyway. Any time anyone asked him why he was suddenly trying to turn into King Kong, he’d just shrug and order another shake.

It was kinda disgusting but fascinating at the same time, you know? Everyone in town started placing bets as to how much he’d gained and one day they actually brought in some scales and made him get on them.

The needle went right off the dial so no one knew who’d won the bet and there was a big uproar over that but Fat Pat didn’t give a shit, he just went right back to eating.

Me: Is this going somewhere?

Trisha: Shit yeah, give me a minute. Anyway, next thing we all hear is that Maryanne, his wife is dead. Apparently what happened is they were fucking away merrily one night and old Fat Pat he was riding the missionary position and he never notices that his wife’s not enjoying it so much any more. In fact, she’s not moving at all because Fat Pat’s squashed all the air out of her.

He’s happily enjoying playing hide the sausage and thinking she’s thrashing around because she’s seeing Jesus, when in fact, she’s dying of suffocation. Gruesome, don’t you reckon?

The what’s-his-name, medical examiner guy and police and everyone have to call it an accidental death, because being fat and fucking your wife’s hardly a crime, is it?

But we all know it was murder. Everyone in town knew right away it was murder.

Me: How did you all know?

Trisha: Because Old Fat Pat got himself a nice sum of insurance money and has been living the high life ever since.

He’s shacked up with a bimbo from away somewhere and I’ll tell you what – we all still call him Fat Pat, but Pat? He sure as shit isn’t fat any more. That cunning bastard started on a diet before Maryanne was even cold in her grave.

* * * * http://www.themisbehavingmind.com * * * *