Friday, September 12, 2003

I always like putting in a little Johnny Cash when I'm working. Tonight I'll listen to RING OF FIRE, DADDY SANG BASS, SUNDAY MORNING COMING DOWN, I WALK THE LINE, FOLSOM PRISON BLUES, a lot more.

I haven't finished the DEMONS ON A DEAD END STREET rewrites, so I'm hitting that this weekend, and starting PETER ROTTENTAIL. Hopefully next weekend I'll be doing some networking at a con in Akron. Stay tuned.

Here's some AMONG US for ya; have a good weekend.

DEBBIE, an attractive woman in her 30s, is standing on the expansive deck of an upscale summer home.
John and I came up here on a lot of weekends. And despite it all I still love it up here.
The weekend it happened was just a typical stay. John was grilling steaks, we sat outside and listened to the trees, a little bit later we watched a movie on TV.
I guess it was about two a.m. when Rob heard something and woke up. We kept a shotgun in the room. I hated it, but John always know. Well, John went all over the house and didn't find anything.
Until the morning.
They were right over here.
(she points)
Footprints. Muddy footprints. Of a bare foot.
How big?
Debbie considers, then holds her hands a considerable distance apart. She shows this distance to the camera for a moment before she continues.
I thought we should call somebody. The police. Or a park ranger or a professor or something. But John said no. He just hosed the footprints away.
He was always good at that. Not wanting to look at things that happened. Not wanting to look at things...accept things.
Debbie looks off into the woods.
Are you afraid to be out here?
Debbie thinks.
A lot of people think I should be. But it's the only thing I really got out of the divorce. His lawyers made sure of that.
(beat, thinking)
But no, I'm not afraid. I wasn't afraid that night, I'm not afraid now. I mean, I know it wasn't some bum trying to squat. And I would bet it wasn't a bear, either. But I can't say what it was. If anything it was just curious about us. And who isn't curious about things?
Wayne is ushering the camera into a shabby office cluttered with many unique items. Wayne showcases a large wooden foot with a snowshoe strap across the top.
Now this one is a favorite. A debunker's favorite. They say that because someone made this and tramped around in a cornfield, that the bigfoot does not exist. That's like saying just because Ed Wood threw a pie plate in front of a camera that there are no UFOs.
But of course, there are those that would say that as well.

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