How I Would Have Ended "Man Of Steel"

Bonded Universe

The Aston Martin was bigger on the inside as James Bond was crawling towards it. The door was stiff but a quick flash of his Sonic Q-driver was enough and it dutifully popped open. His whole body glowed in a mass of swirling energy.  He was regenerating. This wasn't the first time. In fact he had been through this twice before. The bland and stilted features of the second Agent, Lazenby morphed into the debonair figure of the 3rd Spy. He was James Bond once again. There were still so many mysteries to solve from his last adventure, like the origin of the oldest game in the universe, 'I-Spy'. He felt the top of his head.  "Hair? Check." He placed a hand on his throat, "Suave, urbane voice?" Check. He raised his eyebrow knowingly with a distinct hint of camp. "Eyebrow? Check. I can raise my eyebrow now. Eyebrows are cool."

MoneyPondy was still amazed at the dimensional impossibility of the vehicle. "An amazing car, this!" She rasped in her Scottish accent, scowling a little as she always did. James sighed. "It's pronounced Cardis, Pond." "What? Are we in Cardiff...again?!" she asked.   James shooed away the question.  "Hardly, we can go anywhere on the planet which has a secret underground base or nefarious organisations. But that's most places as you can see." James' movement became erratic as further regeneration energy was still being expelled. "Woah, something is definitely off with this one. I haven't had this difficult a change, in what feels like an EON." He looked at his watch which caused him further pain. He lunged forward and balanced himself on his Cardis steering wheel. Another huge flash of energy started to build up but this was the start of  an even more unusual effect. James began to scream in pain as a distinct figure seemed to splinter off from his own. Bond slumped down again as this new being got its bearings. It was a man whose face was not that dissimilar to an Easter Island statue. There stood the more traditional 11th Doctor.  "Hello everyone!". He looked at MoneyPondy. "Is that you Amy? You're dressed like a secretary. You're not a kissogram again are you?" James Bond thumbed his Walter PPK, eyeing up the intruder. "And you are old sport?" "I'm the Doctor. Call me 0011 if it makes you more comfortable. I'm guessing you're...." Mondypondy laughed. "Hush, he lives to say it." "Bond, James Bond. You can trust me. I'm the Spy. But how did you...come out of..well..me?" "A-ha! I'm the Doctor. I'm bigger than any story. Actually I'm just being facetious. When I realised what was going on and that I would be subsumed into your being, I took a Rolex and fashioned it  into a crude Fob watch.  I used it to store my personality and in a feat of extraordinary metaphysical engineering I tied it directly into the Tardis or Cardis data core to rematerialise me at a certain point. Like an alarm. The next time you checked your watch, the core would pull me apart from you and restore my memories. I'm like the radio that turns on with the alarm." The Doctor trudged around the room in a panic. "Fusion! Franchise Fusion. Of course! The Tardis is trying to import or graft itself on to something else.." Noting Bonds tuxedo attire he paused for a second, "Nice bowtie." "What are you going on about 11?" Bond was confused while the Doctor was in one of his trademark frantic rants. "Usually I'm good with explanations. No, wait. Scratch that. I'm terrible. My two hearts aren't in it when I'm explaining stuff for too long. I'm from another universe. Well, not exactly. Parts of my universe are here." He pointed to his left. "Like I definitely recognise that chair." MoneyPondy grimaced further. "Can you slow down? You're not giving me a chance to insert the right amount of innuendo." James chimed it. "You can always insert my.." The Doctor was exasperated. "Right, right. Ok. You two want to be all humanly with each other. That's great. Put up a balloon. We have bigger things to worry about. Like the end of our two universes." Bond adjusted his cuff links. "To be honest I don't know what to make of any of this. The last time the universe was in danger, I dealt with it, with no small amount of style it must be said. Ernst Davros Blofeld had a giant infinity bomb and..." The Doctor interrupted him. "Look back where I'm from. This girl called River has done a thing and that's caused another thing and basically that whole universe is dying.  So the Tardis has tried to plug the holes of the universe with anything it could find. Every adventure we ever had, as separate beings are being forced together in a total event collage." "An event collage?" MoneyPondy sneered. "Why would that happen?" "Isn't it obvious? Well to anyone 900 years plus, it should be. The Tardis scanned any nearby stimuli to find elements to incorporate into the broken universe. Rory had a James Bond Box Set. In a multi-verse of infinite possibilities a universe where this piece of fiction actually exists must be out there. The Tardis would automatically seek out some sort of commonality. Although we're not that alike are we Mr.Bond?" "Well from what I know Doctor. We both have impeccable style. We are both British Institutions, we go through many female...ahem...assistants and we both..." "Regenerate. We become new people but remain constant! YES! That's it. Oh I am going to bloody kill River..." Bond dropped his wry tone for a moment. "River? I know a River. I mean I knew her. She...passed away. River Lynd. My first great passion." The Doctor smirked and slyly remarked. "First great passion huh? She'd love that..." Suddenly another woman walked into the Cardis front seat room. "James my love...?" MoneyPondy was incensed. "WHO IS THAT?" "That's Ms. Moans. A Ms. Martha Moans." This caused the Doctor to spin off into another tizzy. "NO! No! No! Can't you see what's happening? The deterioration is already beginning. Martha Moans?! That's not even a clever innuendo name!" Bond replied. "I assure you Doctor. Her name is entirely apt." The Doctor exhaled. "Oh Bond. I'm a fan of you as an idea but I can't say I agree with everything about your character. I met your creator once actually. Ian Fleming. Nice fella. Stubborn though. Got angry with me when I told him he shouldn't name that story 'Quantum of Solace'.." "Doctor, we'll head back to M(offat) Branch and await our orders. Brigadier Boothroyd Lethbridge Quebert could be a great asset here..."

Pond mumbled. "That name is quite a mouthful." Bond couldn't resist adding. "I'll tell you what else is a mouthful.." The Doctor was starting to get frustrated at the repartee. "STOP IT! We need to find a way to disentangle our universes. The internal logic of this place isn't strong enough to handle such an awkward amalgamation. Any slight unbalance and we could lose it all." The crackle of a vortex manipulator was heard and Martha was joined  by a shadowy figure. She addressed the visitor. "You're right. They're BOTH here." A maniacal laughter began to sound and the figure stepped slowly into the light. "GoldMaster!" exclaimed Bond. "Oh yes. Fun! Fun! The Doctor and the Spy. From Gallifrey to Skyfall. It's all been leading us to this moment. I've retained my memories of both universes and I have to say this awkward fusion is my kind of world." He held a key with a central locking control and pressed it. The door of the Aston Martin slid open and two Gold-plated Daleks entered the Cardis. The Doctor looked at Martha. "Why are you working for him?" Bond interjected. "It's classic for my universe old chap. There's always a good girl and a bad one. No use in "moan"-ing about it now." Martha taunted her ex lover. "Bet you haven't been this disappointed since Bad Jaws Bay." What happened there?" The Doctor asked. "My..wife Tracy Tyler got trapped in an alternate universe with my Connery incarnation. These things happen." The Doctor nodded knowingly. "Enough of this talk. Doctor, you are going to steer this Cardis back to the creation of the universe. I mean this universe is fine.." He looked around as he continued. "But I think it could use...a Midas touch." "You expect me to do that?" 11 snapped back. "No Doctor I expect you to die! Oh and keep coming back and dying again. I never get tired of that. Now come on. You know what they say 'No guts, no McClory!'" A Gold Dalek fired a beam that knocked MoneyPondy back towards the wall.  "Now drive this Cardis for me or the next time...I'll give her a proper Gold Star." The Spy cradled the wounded MoneyPondy. "You'll be ok." She could barely speak but whispered. "Promise me, I'll be ok. Promise me on something that matters." Bond thought for a second. "I promise on Albert Broccoli and Custard." She gave little smile before falling into unconsciousness. Angered Bond whipped out his gun and aimed it at GoldMaster. "Now there are two things I never miss. A golden opportunity or what I target with this gun. In this case they're the same thing." A serious expression appeared on GoldMaster's face. "None of you understand it. What I go through every day. The music. I hear it all the time. This cacophony of brass and drums. Over and Over again. 'Ba-da ba-da ba ba da dahhh bahhh ba-da bum..' It haunts me." "Welcome to the 'Theme'" came another unseen voice behind GoldMaster and Martha They were were both struck with a sonic lipstick blast.  "Solitaire Jane Smith, to the rescue!" She stood there confident with a robotic dog next to her. The markings on him read MI-6.  He blasted the two daleks. Delighted to see her Bond quipped. "You always were a master of the 'kiss off'." She approached Bond. "Solitaire is tired of playing a lonely game..." "Well Ms. Smith I always did find you...dalek-table." They embraced and began to kiss passionately.  The Doctor ran over to the Cardis controls. "Ok. I have an idea of how to dislodge us but...it's risky." Bond and Solitaire joined him at the controls. "The mistake my Tardis made..,"The Doctor explained, "is that she tried to mix the elements in such a way that they made a bit of sense. And now she's stirring it all in a big pot of narrative nonsense. Our only hope is to drive this Cardis back into our first moments. The opening adventures. The nexus point from where our legends began." He pushed a number of buttons and pulled on several levers. "We're going back to 'An Unearthly Casino'. The shock of us landing right back where it all started should be enough to shake us loose." "So what you're saying Doctor is that this shared universe of ours is a bit like a martini. It must be..." The Doctor and Bond spoke in unison. "SHAKEN NOT STIRRED!!" Bond and the Doctor smiled at one another.  "Geronimo!", they both said at the same time. And with that a flash of light and The Doctor awoke back on the Tardis. He could overhear Amy and Rory arguing about James Bond. "C'mon Amy, we'll just watch one. 'The Spy who Loved me.' It's a good one! Moore is fantastic in it" "Rory, we are in a spaceship that can go anywhere in space and time. Isn't that enough escapism for you? Do we really have to watch Bond?" "You're Scottish. You should love it." The Doctor appeared. "Alright Kids. I'm dropping you guys home for a bit. I have something I have to do." "Can't we help?" Amy inquired.  "Afraid not Pond."  Rory spoke up. "You're saying No, to us Doctor?" "Indeed. you should call me Doctor No!" ****************************************************************************************** River was lying on a bed in her cell at Stormcage when the familiar sound of the Tardis stirred her. "Hello Professor Song." "Doctor," she beamed back at him. "What would you say River, if I called you 'dalek-table'?" River was unimpressed. "What are you on about?" "Ha." The Doctor walked towards her. "I saved the universe again. You messed it up but you don't remember." "I'll take your word for it sweetie. So where are we off to tonight?" He took Rivers hand in his own. "I was thinking we'd stay in tonight." "You realise this is a cell right? I'm not much of a hostess." "Ha yes, but after saving the universe, paying my respects to an iconic character and having to put up with many groan inducing double entendres I was thinking...Isn't it about time I, just to cool off now...I...dove into my nearest River?" He took her in his arms. "Ohhh Doctor..." The Doctor and James Bond will return in... "From Rassilon, With Love"

Blocking out a Scene

There once was a shape a square, geometric Who wanted to escape a dull life he wished was more hectic. He felt in his family, that he was the dumb dunce No social circle to speak of, not even a circumference

His Square parents, (in both meanings of the phrase) they were that shape and painfully un-hip, Decided that maybe he had to get aways and take some sort of learning trip It was the only way they could think to ease some of the tensions Father square to mother, "He's always been angle-ling to get away and discover his true dimensions!" Though as a block he was fairly sturdy his mother insisted he keep warm You know how maternal shapes do worry "Make sure you wear something to match your form!" The whole family saw him off on that Rhom-Bus "I wonder," said his rectangle sister,"will he even miss us?" Choosing some coordinates so far away but keeping the location discrete for certain The block looked back at his family, as if to say I will come back a far more rounded person And what came with this new sense of space Love triangles and some right angles in the wrong place Some errors were made, mostly directional Life can hit you with these types of surprises He realised that he was indeed bisection-al and loved things in all shapes and sizes and in his mind, the words of his family he could hear 'em "You still must prove yourself as a trusted theorum!" He lost his virginity to an acute triangle who smoked a lot of hypot, was real bad nuse the opposite of his next romantic entangle was an algebra-burning mathematical muse He didn't contact his family, he really didn't give a damn Only once every few months, would they receive a cursory parallelogram He had a few part time but big enough gigs Mostly in text books hanging out with some graphs You might have seen him as some numbered Figs He made some cash and had some laughs So for a few years this simple country rube Expanded his horizons and became a cube He wrote a letter to his family one night and hoped they wouldn't be too critical He decided to give paper up and have a bit more byte "Mom, dad, your block son has gone digital!" "I'll be working very closely with new people  you can really bet this, Tomorrow guys I'm trying out for some new game named Tetris!"

The Clock Doctor

I want to hide in an old house

want to lie curled on that kitchen bench

I need to taste the rain, collecting on your hair

I need your voice to wish away the lookalike ghosts

the last few years is the reflection of a laugh

we shared in cruel haste and curtailed sunshine

kept for you, if not by design,

than at least by my own shaky hand

and when we sat together,  how intimate was the arc

that we drew

how the crowd would leave us be How even the most ill informed person

just knew

go back to the wilderness seat

return to that most unsure state of grace

I will not season any of the blunt sentiments the thud of every decision, good and bad have equal weight.

at least give me her in the brief encounter and the poor

resolution of a dream

Let me frame her in that uncertain geography.

Emmet O'Brien takes on Superman.

Here is my review of Man of Steel. I've made it pretty much spoiler free but still approach with caution if you're trying to stay uninformed before the film is released!

A Character design for Magnus the Owl, a character from The Moon Fox, illustrated by Marie Denham. check out her tumblr here: http://mariedenham.tumblr.com/

The House of Words

Like the corner spider unable to understand this city No qualms to the task at hand I'd swear your eyes looked empty. It was a long walk to this place where saints sit in eternal hubris and because these figures never speak their stories will remain forever side-less. A strange fate that does not sit well Something fierce in deeper nature across this patchwork Earth while the mind covets the souls stature. When we are compelled and until truly embraced, even though the tongue is the house of words it still can not explain its taste.

Noteworthy

The character was in searing pain. Thin skinned and only half formed he lay in a foetal position at the bottom of the writers imagination. He needed fleshing out. The oblivious creator was waiting for his next coffee before he'd continue to muse on the brand new being he was willing into existence.  In his local cafe, notepad and pen at the ready, the writer was also hungry. He walked over to the menu and considered the specials of the day. Half jumbled thoughts of a fractured back-story danced around the characters head. It was agony being barely a form but this was the forge all characters had to pass through on their way to either notoriety or obscurity.  He scrambled around in the dark, trying to find a story hook to hold onto but this must have been the beginning. He was being born before the world he had to fit into had been created. He then found himself on an empty white plain. "Hmmm, Should I have soup, or something a bit more tasty...?" The woman behind the counter stood ready but the writer was proving frustratingly slow with his order. Linda, a girl the creator fancied sidled up to him at the counter. "Hey, how is your day going?" The writer smiled, looking down, losing his train of creative thought. The character could see his creator and this woman talk but it was as if they were on the other side of a tunnel, the picture of them getting further and further away... Running one hand down his body he could feel his underdeveloped aspects. His guts were spilling, literally, "out of character". Where were his motivations? His distinguishing features? He kept thinking this was the cruelest way to be. The long wait towards narrative... It was then, he felt a hand grip his own. Looking up through blinkered, squinting eyes, he saw a half familiar face. It looked like the woman his creator had been speaking to, but slightly different. Somehow the figure was more beautiful, like an idealized painting, an unrealistic impression of that person. Linda sat with the writer and they made awkward small talk. He pushed the pen and pad across the table a bit, wanting to give his companion his full attention. The beautiful figure pulled the unfinished character up on to his still unsteady feet. He felt like a deformed creature unsure of what to do in the face of such conventional beauty. He looked away sullenly. The figure put her hands to his face and said in a comforting tone. "I'm the Muse based on that Linda creature out there. I'm here to help you in this strange new world." The character allowed himself a smile as he stared into his rescuers eyes. "Where did you come from?" he asked, his voice feeble, undefined. "From the margin," the Muse explained. "My...I mean her name..was written there and from that I grew. I guess coming from the template of a person has given me a far more solid form than you as an original creation." She beamed a nice benevolent smile at him . She leaned in for a kiss "This is just the beginnin..." Suddenly the two characters found themselves submerged under water. They couldn't breathe and began to thrash around. The Muse frantically looked around trying to find a dry scrap of paper to cling to. 

"Shit!I'm so sorry!" Linda said as she was trying to dry the piece of paper. She had spilled her bottle of water all over it. "I've ruined your work!" "Don't worry about it," the writer said. "It was nothing really, just some random thoughts and notes. Actually my phone battery has died but here...if I could take your number..."

A strange black object with an ink stained nib began to scribble something near the bottom of the page. Cradling the barely formed character, the Muse tried reaching out for what had been written. It seemed to be a collection of numbers but the "0" or the "8" would have been the ideal life preservers for the drowning couple.  "Urgh..." Her hand pushed closer and closer until she could feel the tip of the ink. It was just out of reach. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't close the distance.  Reality itself seemed to fold over as the top of their world began to crumple up. A drop became a wave and bombarded them. The character and the Muse looked back to where their possible salvation had been. The island of numbers was gone. It had been torn away.

For Seamus

Upon the eve of the darkening hue While the greens deepen and the deprived insects rustle, There is now a figure featureless set against a slanted sky. I noted a steady breeze as it was thread through the horizon-less cloud and the air transmuted to a single voice. Its nervous quality borne of surprise Knowing there is no silence rich enough. The shoreline rests upon an empty seabed We will fill the space with the right words, Before returning to the interrupted paths he knew well. the sweep of thorns, When daily toil brushed up against eternal question. A shifting landscape stands still in a soft dusky ardour over the wordsmith, gone on ahead. We peer in from outside immortality.

Suburban One-trick Blues

I love Bob Dylan and decided to write a sort of potted history of key moments in his career using "Subterranean Homesick Blues" as a template. For the record any ribbing is meant as utterly affectionate. It's Alright Bob (I'm Only Teasing).

  Bobby's in his element making a new precedent he sure as hell isn't thinking about the protest movement man from Newport

Wire cut, pissed off

Said Bob's a traitor

Now Judas gone and kissed off

Look out Bob it's something you distort God knows why But the folkies sure got hurt better crash your bike down an alley way looking for time willing The fans in the Royal Albert Hall

wanted folk Zimmerman they got Bob Dylan Bobby in his neat suit Fans full of what the fuck? feeling in a rut

take amphetamines to strut Many later say, they were never that nay in how the band did play but that's retroactive hearsay Rumours from back in the day! Look out Bob next few years gonna be rough going do bad country stuff domestic bliss, you going to bluff but we will get the basement tapes stuff

you don't need the Jokerman to tell you that's more than enough Get married, get divorced Idiot wind such a force Ring them bells, ride that horse Some gospel stuff to endorse Try out Lanois, then Au Revoir Get burnt out, before really fail Fall ill, but then prevail Jack Frost produce, big sale Mumble in theatres, never ending tours in thousand seaters Get medals from world leaders Scorsese film makes him cool Bob then playing the Christmas fool Dylanologists, silly believers Watch the phrasing of his meters Now Tempest, far from his best Dylan shuffle, enunciating trouble Cowboy dressed, some verses he guessed but he's really trying "Aw Bless" Please the die hard, even when he don't try hard Don't download, buy the damn record 50 years of performin' he must be bored Look out Bob, they keep making you hip Better jump into self parody Masked by some senility give the audience mild hostility Keep on keepin' on while you still got mobility And rally against the censors On your never ending tour adventures The man will always work til the end of his mortality...

Left

the first time we hold

on this earth

was to the most perfect

flirty dirge

and blessed are the mixed

signals

because it's where false hope

does flourish

in dreams to the left

and in the most solid gray

the amber eyes of the past

with flies out my mouth when i

should have something to say

I can not speak for too many of

this times so called men

but I echo the thwarted

when I say

get me something sharp that I can wield

again