29 May 2014

THE MONTHLY DOZER I (May) 3/3: Dictated Recording*

14 Dec. C17ODBCY
Walsh L. Scott Memorial Library, Mindora, IL
Silent Loft (overlooking parking lot through frayed yellow glass window panes)

I killed a small one, once, just like that.

With the heel of your boot?

I think it was a sandal.

Sandal shmandal—did it crunch?

If you count audibly exploding as a kind of a crunching, it crunched all around—like, in a five inch radius from the contact point, pieces going out in little vectors of invariable blink-quick magnitude and direction.

Oh golly, as they say, is that impressive!

You could see the little wiry legs of its thorax’s most distal appendages squirming all about post-impact, too, like a sort of a constituent body-piece undeadness—supernaturally animated.

[Whistles in declining octaves.]

I threw them out. The sandals. I threw both the sandals out.

And but who could blame you, boy? I’d have burned the location down and run outside tearing my clothes off in broad daylight.

But, you’re…



Oh, these? Boy, that’s only a mild indicator.

They’re slightly protrusive though, in a noticeably unnatural sort of way.

Well, yes, but it’s nothing like society would have you believe, mind you. Just take a look at the evolution my kind’s stereotype throughout the previous century and a half!

I think you mean with respect to Hollywood and some nauseous and esoterically interesting YA “novels” [finger quotes] that rotted in many of the Used Books sections of early 21st Century America’s bookstores.

My hat goes off.


It’s all a vapid aesthetic, the stereotype, imbued in all those… mid-1900’s black-and-white films with their crude hypnotism and overly protrusive fangs and their black capes and high collars and lusty sacred blood-sucking as if blood-type was never an issue, or even partially relevant! It’s a defacement of what we actually are—an evolving stereotypically stereotypical image that never leaves the public’s mind!

I think you’re referring to the British film company Hammer Productions Limited and their re-visualizations of the American Dracula, most notably with Dracula, 1957; The Brides of Dracula, 1960; Dracula, Prince of Darkness, 1965; Taste the Blood of Dracula, 1969; and The Satanic Rites of Dracula, 1973, the former three of which were all directed by Terence Fischer, geared toward American audiences with B movie-style sets and acting far too asphyxiated by its own melodrama to seem halfway alive now, but classic acting nonetheless.

Again, my hat goes off.


* T'wall's dialogue is colored in pale blue; Dr. Epiphantifang's is a pale purple.
† Cluck 17, Original Dairy-Based Cinnamon Yogurt.

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