Unfolding above me like some kind of sculpted clay

were towers that stretched beyond the clouds.

Overshadowed were the mountains,

once proud and stoic now insignificant,

worthless.

Crystal-like natural rock formations which reflected the light of the suns in the sky

hummed in harmony playing some immortal

song that i’m sure predates time.

And through them I see the distorted horizon

now tinted purple through my new lens.

It is boundless and foreign

opportunity ahead, and behind?

Nothing.

Walking toward them I notice their position is firmly rooted away

as if they slid across the landscape, expanding it beyond its natural borders.

I cannot tell whether I am making progress, yet I continue.

I never feel tired in the presence of this song which reverberates in my skull

and commands the tide of chemicals in my brain to make me stay awake.

And I am awake.

So I keep moving, despite the fact that I have no idea why or how;

or even if I’m meant to be here.

Breathing steadily, one foot in front of the other, the gravity here is intense

and I feel it in my spine.

I am drawn forward.

If it bleeds, we can kill it.

The Predator is the newest entry in the Predator franchise, featuring everyone’s favorite intergalactic trophy hunter, the Predators (otherwise known as the Yautja). This time around, an army sniper (played by Boyd Holbrook) comes in contact with a pair of Predators—one normal and one that’s much bigger and upgraded—that are wreaking havoc on suburbia, USA. He teams up with fellow soldiers that are a bit unstable (featuring the likes of Keegan-Michael Key, Alfie Allen, and Thomas Jane) against these hunters. Also Olivia Munn is in here as a scientist studying the Predators, and Jacob Tremblay is here as Boyd’s autistic son that can understand languages.

As much as I’m a huge fan of this creature and of the original Arnold Schwartzneggar movie, I definitely had some concerns about this film. Watching the trailers didn’t put my mind at ease, and what’s worse is that the film is written and directed by Shane Black. Let’s talk about him for a minute. Shane Black was actually one of the original actors in Predator, playing as Arnold’s glasses wearing, girlfriend’s vagina joke making commando Hawkins. You’d think this would give the film an edge. Heck, he’s proven to be a capable film director and writer having made great films like Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and The Nice Guys. But he also wrote and directed Iron Man 3, and I personally disliked that movie, believing it to be the worst of the Marvel Cinematic Universe films. So yeah, you can understand my concern.

The Predator movies need a serious kick to get them back to the original film’s glory. That, or a new Predator/Alien game. Not one film in the series, including the two AVP films, have been able to match up to the original. So maybe this will be the one to do so. So, how does this one hold up? To borrow a quote from Arnold from the first Predator, “YOU SET US UP! It’s all bullshit! All of it!”

I remember an interview that featured director Shane Black, and there he stated that this sequel was going to be the scariest one of the bunch. He lied. There is nothing scary about this movie, mainly because there’s absolutely no suspense in this movie at all. Hell, the movie is played more as a comedy than an action horror. Seriously, there are one too many jokes made in this movie, and that’s where it suffers the most. The jokes made in this movie are not funny. Well, technically. I did laugh at a couple jokes, mainly of how cheesy they were. There’s one in particular where the regular Predator slaughters a truck full of soldiers, and the driver asks if everything was alright back there, and the Predator takes this severed arm and gives the driver a thumbs up. That was a little funny to me. But why did this movie have to be a comedy? There’s a space alien that skins people and rips their spines out. That should be shit-your-pants scary!

But my biggest gripe is its overall story. So this new Predator, dubbed the Upgraded Predator, is some kind of experiment done on his own people and he has the DNA of multiple species to be the ultimate hunter. I seriously doubt any member of the Yautja species, especially from the clan elders, would ever allow such a thing to happen. Not only that but Jacob Tremblay’s character manages to crack the Predator code in a matter of minutes? Look, I don’t doubt that because of his form of autism that he’s likely to do so. I’m autistic myself. But I have to call bullshit because it really does not fit in something like Predator. Hell, there was a moment where the Upgraded Predator is hunting down Tremblay, and that’s a huge violation of the Predator’s code of honor. Not to mention that none of these Predators are doing their shit stealthfully. So basically the secrets out that there are Predators existing, which is another violation of their code. My point is that much that goes on in this movie shits on the lore, and it’s just overall bad storytelling.

There is also little characterization in this movie. All of these characters only have quips and querks. Even the ones that are suppose to be intimidating and serious, but they make one too many jokes that you cannot take them seriously. Hell, I don’t even remember their character names, mostly because I really didn’t care for any of them.

And the ending... oh my god, that fucking ending is just stupid. Just... fuck!

But is there anything good I can say about this movie? Well, despite have little characterization, the acting is pretty good. I mean, the all deliver believable performances. And the Predators are still cool. They’re doing what they usually do. I especially like the design for the regular Predator. And there were some pretty cool, gory kills. That’s all I got, I’m afraid.

Guys, this movie was a huge disappointment, and is definitely the worst of the Predator movies. The only other positive to come out of this movie is that I got to see it with my dad, who is a fan of the original film too, and he thought this movie wasn’t too bad. He actually gives the movie a C, and I respect that. He got more enjoyment in this movie than I did. If you’ve seen it by now and like it, more power to you. I just really didn’t like this movie, and I don’t think Shane Black should be allowed to do any franchises after this one.

Positives:

-Acting

-Some cool kills

Negatives:

-The comedy

-No suspense

-Bad story

-Weak characterization

-Craps on Predator lore

-The ending

Final Grade: F

It’s a little sad that the only worthwhile sequels of the Predator series is Alien vs Predator and Predators, which, in truth, aren’t bad movies at all. I just wish that the Predator franchise had a movie of their own that was like how Aliens was for the Alien franchise.

So that’s my disappointed thoughts on The Predator. A movie so disappointing that The Nun is actually better. I fucking kid you not! Have you seen it? What were your thoughts? Please be kind, leave a like and comment, and check out more reviews here on Prose!

Also, thank you to all those that followed and read my Predator Countdown reviews, leading up to this movie. If anyone is curious about my thoughts on those movies, you can check out the following links to those reviews below:

Predator: https://theprose.com/post/205724/harry-situation-s-countdown-reviews-predator

Predator 2: https://theprose.com/post/211579/harry-situation-s-countdown-reviews-predator-2

AVP: https://theprose.com/post/214160/harry-situation-reviews-alien-vs-predator

AVPR: https://theprose.com/post/218179/harry-situation-s-countdown-reviews-aliens-vs-predator-requiem

Predators: https://theprose.com/post/222936/harry-situation-s-countdown-reviews-predators

Best Quote:

Quinn McKenna: “What are you?”

Ultimate Predator: “What are you?”

Quinn McKenna: “Shut the fuck up.”

#harrysituationreviews #predator #scifi #action #horror #film #opinion #thismoviesucks

There's nothing more painful than Immoblizing Depression. Self-deprecating words marathon through your brain. Inward rage, uselessness and shame are your closest emotional companions. A long list of memories recall what you have wasted and squandered throughout your life. You wretch at what you once loved most in the world and firmly believe both your minuscule accomplishments and yourself belong in oblivion.

Beyond the guilt-ridden heart and dried-up tears, is someone numb to everything.

“I can’t wait for this bloody thing to end,” muttered Robert Duff. His fingers twitched over the loose ends of a cigarette. It folded over, and he gripped it between two yellowed teeth. Fumbling with the matchbox, Duff struck a light. His companion, a young immigrant who introduced himself as Alexi, struck it out of his hand.

“What the bloody hell, you foulgone inbred?” Duff stiffed the boy over the head.

Alexi lifted a quiet finger to pursed lips, and then gestured out over the foxhole. “They told us: No lights, no noises. When darkness falls, so do we.”

“What kind of blasted– When darkness– Bloody hell, the monitors really did a number on you, eh?” Duff stuttered. He crouched in the mud and struck another match. Before Alexi could react, Duff elbowed him in the knee. Satisfied the recruit wouldn’t interrupt him, Duff lit the roll. After a few puffs, he rose again.

“That the sort of propaganda they drown you in these days? Nursery rhymes?” Duff poked Alexi in the chest.

Alexi shrugged. “It is what we were taught. This era preferred sharpshooters at night. Fire is not allowed. Neither is talking for that matter.”

Duff rolled his eyes. “This your first game, then?”

Alexi nodded, watching the horizon.

“An’ you think you’re ready for this? After a month an’ half of marching an’ shouting?” Duff whispered, not for Alexi’s sake but out of actual caution. He was a cynic, not an imbecile.

Alexi shifted uncomfortably. The rookie kept peering down the sights of his rifle, as if willing a Mowbray soldier to appear. Duff’s rifle leaned against the side of their embattlement. It stood next to an equally neglected haversack. Alexi hunched over before answering. “We did not just march.”

“No, lad, you’re right. Shooting a target at hundred meters is exactly like war.” Duff glared at the lad. “Good to know your bayoneting a dead pig has gotten you ready to kill.”

“How many games have you been in?” Alexi ignored the animosity. At least, he seemed to try.

“Listen, boy. I fought back in Glory of the Romans Three. Don’t go goosing me up like the village elder. If you want quiet, then be fucking quiet. I don’t need some grassy green ogling me like a statue.” Duff picked up his rifle and leaned in its place.

“You don’t have to be rude,” muttered Alexi.

“Why not? You’ll be dead by tomorrow. Opening Hostilities always culls the herd. This ain’t a Skirmish, you know. We won’t be leaving in an hour an’ lining up for the showers.” Duff, after a few drags on the limp gasper, spat in the dirt. He eyed Alexi. “Seen plenty of you, boy. I’ll see plenty more.”

“It’s only a week,” Alexi started to protest. Duff began laughing but it quickly turned into coughing and hacking. Alexi shrunk further down beneath the dirt wall with each cough. His eyes shot from side to side searching for someone who might have heard the noise.

“Lad, it used to be two weeks. But then, the League decided that was inhumane. Can you imagine? An’ in those days, playing a Seige had no time limit.” Duff recalled each little detail with scorn. “An’ my training camp was only two weeks. They didn’t care for historical accuracy; the audience only needs to see you carry a weapon.”

“What changed?”

“Lords an’ Ladies began fighting alongside their pawns. Many wanted more realism, the bluntbrains.”

“Basketcases,” murmered Alexi.

“Excuse me, lad?” Duff glared.

“Basketcases. We’re supposed to use their words.”

“Their?– Oh, you blasted grass. Does it look like I got Lord Latymer on my shoulder?” Admonished Duff. “No one speaks the old jabber unless a Lord or one of his bots is eyeing us. You’d have to learn fresh every year. You can’t do that, lad.”

Alexi fell silent again. The two men continued in the uncomfortable silence for quite some time, each one watching in different directions. A flare shot up from the hills where the Mowbray’s Men had been sighted. Both soldiers pushed themselves into their defenses. Light illuminated the field. White shafts danced along the dips and curves of the battlefield. It glided along on the wind for a tenuous moment.

Duff grumbled as he picked up the small shovel from its spot and began deepening their foxhole. Each lump of dirt tossed out strained his back even more. Alexi watched for a moment before disentangling his own tool from his pack and joining.

“Why do you dig?” Alexi whispered.

“Sky’s about to fall,” grunted Duff. He focused on his shovel swing instead of talking. Above them, the flare faltered and blinked out of sight. All brilliance disappeared with as if a cloth had been dropped over a napkin.

“I do not hear anything.” Alexi pointed out.

“You will,” Duff grunted again. “Might be the last thing we hear.”

“What is it like?” The question paused Duff in mid-swing. He carefully reset himself and considered the new soldier. Words, barbaric and crude, percolated at the back of his throat. Duff took a deep breath before answering.

“It doesn’t matter what it sounds like, lad. You only hear it for a moment; you’ll feel it for the rest of your life.”

“They told us to open our mouths when artillery is to hit near us.”

“Oh, they did, now did they? Is that the only thing they said? Did they tell you what to do if it hits you? Keeping your maw open does very little. Instead, get as near the earth as you can. Even if you’re breathing dirt, you’re more likely to live,” offered Duff. He signaled to their hole. “You see this? We should dig it longer an’ wider. Get some sandbags. Make it real an’ proper.”

“Will they bring us bags of sand?”

“Doubt it. I’ve been in Latymer’s Legion forever now; the Lord rarely gets off his arse to order supplies once a game goes long. We fought a Siege during Sea of Tranquility where my cavalry regiment ran out of power cells. Didn’t see action for the rest of the game because we were stranded in the habitat module.” Duff rested from digging. Nothing else had followed the flare. Or at least, nothing that affected him. Away went the shovel and out came his ration can. Alexi made a show of digging for a few more minutes before stopping as well.

“You were in the cavalry?” he asked after a breath.

Duff shrugged. “I tested high enough for any division. I’ve tried most of them over the years. I prefer the ranks of the infantry.” His ration can popped open. The smell of preserved beans and sausages pinched at Duff’s nose. He stuck his bayonet into one small specimen and raised it up for examination. “Three cheers for historical accuracy, lads.”

“The money is good here,” agreed Alexi. Someone shouted far off in the distance. A few whip cracks of rifle fire echoed from the disturbance. Alexi grabbed his weapon in a hurry. As Alexi brought it to bear on the Mowbray line, Duff chuckled.

“It ain’t about the mone– Here, put that down– Not about the money. Everyone joins for the money, but that’s your first mistake. If you want mo– I said put that thing down, lad– you want money, you should have become a miner. You can’t spend money if you’re dead. Will you put that blasted thing away already? No one from our own side even knows we’re here; I doubt the enemy does.” Duff signaled to the spot next to his own rifle. Alexi sheepishly retired the self-loader. Duff shook his head, gazing off towards the opposing side.

“You don’t want the money? Why else then be infantry?” Alexi restarted Duff’s thinking after a restless moment. The older man looked back at his young compatriot.

“We’re the most free. When’s the last time you seen a Lord marching with us? Shite, I ain’t seen one seen since I was in the battery during Fall of New York. Little puke just sat back in an air-conditioned rig while the rest of us hustled around gun emplacements,” Duff reminisced as his guard continued to fall. The long night begun to wear on him. He continued picking at the cold contents of his rations.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Lord,” contemplated Alexi. His face pinched as he thought.

“You would know if you did. They prefer wearing all the fancy ribbons an’ flash.”

“And you have use the campaign’s language around them?”

“Ah, naw. You just stay real quiet an’ give a mean eye when they’re around. They’ll think you’re a crazy one.”

Alexi laughed. “You must play that well.”

Duff allowed himself a short chuckle. “You’ll get there in time.”

“I thought I was going to be dead by the end of the game.” Alexi’s challenge caught Duff up. He squinted at the foreigner before taking a deep breath.

“I’m only passing the time with you, lad. I signed on the day after my secondary graduation; everyone I entered with has either retired or gotten themselves killed. No matter the year’s campaign, whether it’s sticks an’ stones or microrailers, plenty of the young ones get themselves killed. That’s just the game.”

“Teach me to survive, then,” Alexi suggested before Duff had even finished. Duff sneered at the thought. Silence fell between them as Alexi waited. Duff turned back from watching the wilderness to find the boy’s eyes piercing through him.

“How long is your contract, lad?”

“One campaign.”

“Why? You get off the boat and realize you have nowhere to sleep at night?”

Alexi ignored the verbal blow. “Not everyone who signs on are destitute.”

“Sure they are. Why else would they be playing for blood?”

With a shrug, Alexi forged on. “I’m only here to get enough money for uni.”

Duff’s eyebrows raised at that. “Oh, a smart one? How come you aren’t waiting tables or driving a cab?”

“Will you teach me to survive the night then? If I'm supposed to die here?”

“No.”

"Why not?"

"No."

Alexi humphed and inspected the ground beneath him with disinterest. He rose back up. "Why not?"

"Lemme guess, lad. You were born in the colonies an' grew surrounded by gearheads an' smog. Your parents scrap together just enough to put you on a ship, but you never thought you'd make it that far. An' when you reached your utopia, it turned out to be just as shitty as the frontier. So you got no money, no way home, but everyone has sacrificed everything to get you here. Ob-li-gay-shun, it's called. Just another anchor to hang round your neck." Duff fished another cigarette out of his pocket it. He stuck it in his mouth and talked around it as he searched for matches. "You ain't got money for classes— though you grew up being told you was bloody well smart enough for it. You get looped into the League because the recruiter promised thousands of tics and a warm bed each night. Course, they never tell you it might be a hospital bed. The papers are signed an' you show up for training camp expecting glory. Seven weeks later, you're stuck in a foxhole with me. Me. Someone who's been fighting for more than a baker's dozen. Take it from me, lad—" Duff found a match. Striking it on his helmet, he gingerly set the cigarette off. "— The League is your life now. My family stopped responding to letters during my second campaign. They moved an' never told me. The last friend I had on the outside transferred away for a new job. The last friend I had from my training camp got his intestines flattened and divided piece by piece across fifty meters a königstiger during Blitzkrieg Seven. You even seen intestines, lad?"

Alexi switched positions, looking across the battlefield as he listened. Duff continued watching him, despite the sudden lack of eye contact. He spoke faster and faster as the young man shirked away from him.

"You're dead. You're dead. You're bloody well gone, dead, cold, an' buried. New guys come and go all the damn time to play for the Lords. You want money? I could buy the moon. You don't come back for the money," Duff hissed between small whisps of tobacco cloud. The meager light from the cherry lit up his aged beard and jowls. Hollow eyes drilled into Alexi from the cigarettes shadows. "You come back because you never left, lad. No one's going to hire a gladiator; we're bluntbrained. The longer you're here, the more of your old life dies. Forget uni. Forget Mum an' Da. You take one good look at—" Duff was stopped by a flury of sparks and launches from the Mowbray line. Both soldiers stopped and focused.

A line of flares rocketed up above no man's land. Their phosphorus halos crackled and fizzed as bright as day. Beneath them, the entirety of the battlefield revealed itself. Duff snatched up his rifle and checked its chamber. Alexi followed suit after a profane prompting from his superior. The Mowbray Men screamed that war cry they were reknowned for. The entire offensive line leapt up out of fortifications and sprinted with all abandon at the Latymer's Legion.

"You're dead, lad," repeated Duff as he zeroed down his sights. "Forget about surviving the night. You have to survive the hour. Each hour." Alexi anxiously aimed, lowered, and aimed again as the might of one Lord was brought to bear on another. He ducked down and hastily attached his bayonet to the rifle barrel.

Duff spoke again, louder as the nearing rally contested his voice. "You're dead, lad. If you survive the campaign, get out. Get out and go home. There's no surviving this, alive or dead." And with that final line, Duff fired a bullet into the fast-approaching mob. Cacophony drowned around them as the battle crescendoed into frenzy. Through it all, Duff's words echoed through Alexi's mind.

You're dead, lad. You're dead.

Last weekend, I gave you are review featuring a crossover of beloved characters. And in this review, I’m continuing that trend by reviewing a crossover of two beloved monster aliens... that were featured in a movie most folks found mediocre. At least it’s considerably better than Batman v Superman.

Continuing on with my Predator Movie Countdown Reviews, I feel it is time to finally talk about the AVP films, as I promised last year during my Alien Movie Countdown Reviews.

Alien vs Predator (or AVP) is the science fiction horror crossover movie fans having been wanting to see for a while. Released back in 2004, the story takes place in Antarctica where people have discovered an ancient pyramid hidden underneath the icy surfaces. Upon exploring the unknown pyramid they come across the two iconic monsters: the Alien (Xenomorph) and the Predator, and the human survivors find themselves caught in the crossfire of these two deadly, intergalactic species. Can they escape alive?

I remember seeing this film as a kid all the way back in 2004, and I remember enjoying it for the most part. Alien and Predator were on the big screen together. It was the best crossover idea since Freddy vs Jason. And since then, I’ve been a fan of the AVP franchise. I read some comics and I played a couple of the games. Now that I’m older and have started viewing movies more critically, I find that the movie is okay for the most part.

I’m gonna talk about one huge negative first, then go back to talking about the other positives and negatives. Both Alien and Predator come from hard R-rated franchises, yet for some unexplained reason, this movie is rated PG-13. Why? That takes most of the kills out of the movie. I shouldn’t be too surprised since this film was directed by Paul W.S. Anderson, the guy who turned Mortal Kombat into a PG-13 movie. Luckily, there’s an unrated version on DVD that has more blood and gore, and serves as a much better improvement than the theatrical cut.

Also, one of the most laughable reasons why AVP is PG-13 is because it contains slime. Oh no! Not slime! But in all seriousness, slime? Really, MPAA?

Another issue I had was that the film was set in 2004. You might not think that is a big deal, but it made more sense when the franchise was set in the future. You know, some time after the events of Aliens (while wiping Alien 3 and Alien Resurrection out of existence). I want to see an AVP film where the Aliens and the Predators combat the Colonial Marines. That’s what we all want. It’s been a big staple for the AVP series since the 1990s. Not to mention, there’s a huge hole in the timeline. The first Alien film took place in the year 2122, and they’ve stated that they’ve never encountered the xenomorphs in Aliens. But later, I found that the AVP films take place in their own universe, so they’re not canon to either the Alien or Predator series, which only creates more problems and timeline holes.

Now jumping to the positives, I will say that seeing the Alien and the Predator onscreen, fighting it out, was a treat. It will take some time to get there, but once it happens, it looks cool. While there are moments of that irritating shaky-cam action, but seeing all the practical effects done for both alien species, and how they were utilized fairly well in the fights was a treat. And some of the CGI used also looked good, and it was only used when the scene requires it.

I also liked that they cast Lance Henriksen in this movie as Charles Bishop Weyland, founder and CEO of Weyland Industries. Basically, he serves as the precursor to the android Bishop, and his company will give rise to Weyland-Yutani, the bad guy company of both series. I also found it interesting that his character was killed off by the main Predator character named Scar. This makes Lance Henriksen the second actor to have been attacked by the Alien, the Predator, and the Terminator in three seperate franchises, other than Bill Paxton. The rest of the cast is fine. I just didn’t really care about their characters enough to hope that they live in the end.

Yet the praise this film does deserve is that it’s got a good setting. The setting is Antarctica, which creates that sense of isolation in the film. These people are alone with these intergalactic monsters, and help is nowhere to be found. Also, I like the idea of a pyramid that was built by the Predators being hidden underneath the ice. And the look of its interior is really amazing. It adds to the sense of claustrophobia that the first Alien film had. Nice touches like those are greatly appreciated.

The concept is good too. I really like this idea. It is later revealed that these Predators are actually young adults undergoing a manhood ritual, and the pyramid was built to test their skills as well as house the xenomorphs they are hunting. It is established throughout the AVP franchise that the Predators consider the xenomorphs as the ultimate and most dangerous prey. It wasn’t a coincidence that the human characters found the pyramid. They’re being used as cattle for slaughter, or in this case hosts for the Aliens. What a great idea for a film. And, it also builds more lore on the Predator culture with their relation with the Aliens.

However, there is one other negative I need to address. When the fight between the Alien and the Predator does happen, it looks cool, but for the most part it’s okay. I mean if you’re someone who is on the outside of both these series, you’re going to find the film to be a little underwhelming. And rewatching this, that was kind of the feeling I got.

Don’t get me wrong, I do like this movie. I rewatch it now and then just for fun because I like seeing both the Alien and Predator clash. But all in all, it’s just a decent film. It’s not going to be something as groundbreaking as The Avengers. If you’re looking for a weekend movie, this film is for you. Yet I recommend that you check out the unrated cut because that’s a much better version of the film than the theatrical one.

Positives:

-Alien & Predator together and fighting

-Setting & atmosphere

-Good special effects

-Concept

-Unrated cut

Negatives:

-PG-13 rating

-Slow first half/pacing

-Can be underwhelming

Final Grade: C+

So there’s my review of Alien vs Predator. Have you seen it? What were your thoughts? Which species would you root for? Please be kind, leave a like and comment, and check out more reviews here on Prose!

Also tune in next time as I cover its sequel. Oh boy... that one is gonna be a treat.

Best Quote:

Adele: “What did you say this room was called?”

Thomas: “Sacrificial chamber.”

#harrysituationreviews #countdownreviews #alien #predator #crossover #film #opinion #horror #scifi

Hours upon hours I play.

Until the break of f*cking day.

Hoping to achieve that beautiful 1st place.

But wait here is a freaking red shell to blast upon my dreams.

Angerly spouting and shouting at Mario

There will never be enough four letter words to satisfy my need for all the stars oh no.

Only completion of the game will do.

If it doesn't make me wanna throw my wii at you.

Shouts of success as I get 1st in a race.

During the next round, if only I could keep up my pace.

So I'll grind and I'll grind hoping to speed up my game.

Only to be wrecked by the blue shell of destroying my dreams.

#comedy

#angry

#poetry

Unite the right. Stand with the left.

It's the same old arguments all over again.

Do black or blue lives matter?

Why must it be either or?

Every human being matters.

We let our differences take hold of us.

Why do we make such a fuss?

Instead of being proactive, we sit and complain.

Waiting for the next "outrage" to disdain.

Real change doesn't happen with only our screens.

We gotta get out and bring forth the change.

But do not haste to blame other sides.

First look at yourself and make it all right.

We should be good to eachother not evil.

Let us come together to save the peoples.

#politics

Momma always told me I was such a good little helper. Those pats on the head. Those hugs. My heart was a stone warmed by the high noon sun of Momma's kindness. But I didn't understand. Momma wasn't the only one in our rundown, bleached-paint single wide. And my father was not nearly as compassionate.

I am told that other children received toys and candies for their birthdays. I didn't. Lashings, cuts, bruises. All those were my presents. And what a lucky child I was. My father would come home some nights smelling like the bar. Other nights, he wouldn't. Some nights, I slept. Other nights, I couldn't. Momma told us to hide when he came. Which was silly. We only had three rooms in that trailer house. Of course he would find us, sooner or later. And hiding only made it worse.

That man. Yellow, broken teeth grinned in the darkened room when he found us. Those empty, bedamning eyes hardly moved when he glared at us. We weren't even there. Whatever demons he thought he was battling, his own children bore the brunt of his pointless crusade. The belt or his hand, it didn't matter. I learned to hide when I saw the outline of his greasy, main through the window. A closet was not my refuge. My mind shielded me from each wound. I hid in that golden box my mind crafted for me. No horror reached me there. I watched him throw around Momma. Just picked her up and flung her into a cabinet for some minute reason. Momma would begin her weeping when his car pulled into the driveway. Sometimes, she'd wince when any car drove by. When the man wasn't around, I'd leave my golden box to go to her. I'd pull on her sleeve and beg.

"Momma, let's go."

"Go where, sweet thing?"

"Anywhere."

We never went.

But then it happened. I was twelve when things became worse. He struck her, throwing her down. The smack echoed in the cramped space. She just lay there whimpering. I couldn't see her face through those beautiful auburn locks. My little brother cried in the corner of the room. My father ordered us to stay quiet. He reached down, grabbed a tuft of her hair, and began to pull her back up. She pleaded with him.

And that was it. I leapt out of the box in my mind. I rushed at him. I helped Momma. I helped Momma. My little brother muted in an instant. Momma struggled to stand up, looking at me with wide eyes. Oh, those beautiful hazel irises thanked me with their teary, translucent stare. She reached for the landline. People came. Men came. Large men entered our home. My brother and I rode in a pearly white car. A man with glasses spoke to me. They never asked me if I helped Momma. We stayed with a new mother and a new man. I only saw Momma a few times. They took away her apron and flats. She only wore orange when we talked.

Eventually, my brother and I grew up. We grew apart, as siblings do. He went his way and I went mine. I didn't help anyone until my final year at college. Surrounded by all these jackals and hectors, the anger that appeared when I heard the way they talked to these women. These ladies. They deserve your respect, you cad. But I didn't do anything. I retired to the golden box. I kept my head down. I studied other languages, other cultures, other worlds. Their men weren't such beasts of burdens. Why can't you be like that? Those boys cat call at ladies or make them laugh with underhanded jokes meant to bluff. Flirtations hid those animals' true spirit. I thought nature would take care of them. Evolution or another process would pluck these neanderthals from among us.

But then it happened. I was leaving the tutoring center one night, finished with study for the evening. And I heard the shriek. My head swiveled. There, right under the light of a street lamp, stood two people. A young lady and a brute. He was holding something high in the air. The lady tried reach for it, but he'd jerk it back at last second. She demanded it back. But he laughed haughtily and refused. She protested more, only provoking more guffaws from the oaf. No one else sees this?

And that was it. I was called from within my golden box again. I threw down my books. I had to. No one else would. I ran to the lady. I helped her. I helped Momma. We stood there, in the orange light, staring. She said nothing. The young woman didn't even say thank you. She snatched the purse she had lost from my hands and retreated. But that was all right. Momma thanked me. I gathered my things and continued on to my dorm.

My first job after college suited me well. I helped the local librarians with their tasks. Stacking books, organizing shelves, dusting here and there. That place truly felt like home. Not my home, but an actual home. The older ladies welcomed me each day when I showed up to help. They appreciated me for helping. I helped. Sometimes, one librarian couldn't reach the top shelve or another would need someone to carry the book return bin to the back counter. I could do it all.

I didn't even need the golden box. The toys of my childhood were left in it to gain dust. Seldom would a man enter into our library. And when he did, I simply moved to another section of books. Out of sight, out of mind. If they approached me with a question or some other annoyance, I slipped back inside the golden box. Everything was going so well. And then he came in.

He would stop by the front desk to speak with one lady each day. He'd lean over the desk, invading our space. They'd speak in diminished tones, but every once and awhile a laugh would puncture their conversation. I'd check on her every once and awhile, peeking out of my golden box. She returned his smiles and affections, but I could see the panic in her eyes. The cold, heart-throbbing dread. Each day, she'd laugh. But those crystal baby blues, undiminished by age, cried for help.

Each night at closing, he'd be waiting outside for her. They'd link arms and walk away. I'd spy over my shoulder while locking up. My sorrow for her grew deeper and deeper each time I watched him drag her off.

But then it happened. I couldn't do it anymore. Momma weeped in agony as each day repeated. He came in. He smiled. She laughed. Help me. They walked away. He smiled. She laughed. Help me. They walked away. I came up with a plan to help her. I brought out two boxes of books a few minutes before closing time. With both of them in my arms, I pretended to struggle and falter. He offered to assist me, which I of course accepted. I brought the man behind my car. Away from the windows, outside of the light.

And that was it. I sprung from the golden box. I helped her. I helped that poor old librarian like I did every day. I helped her. I helped Momma. I didn't need the lady to thank me. I merely got in my car and left. I never looked back.

I've helped many others over the years. I've helped mothers, daughters, sisters, girlfriends, wives. And each time I do, I help Momma. I'm a good little helper. No one understands that. I'm just helping people. No one wants my help. But, I'm too compassionate to not help. That's all I'm doing. Helping.

Does this help you, at all? Thinking that I'm on some crusade? I must remind you, doctor, I'm already in here for life. At this point, these sessions are more for you than for me. They're for the whole world, in a way. Everyone simply refuses to believe a monster such as I exists without cause. I just appreciate the chance to practice my storytelling. I'm not a sick man. There is no golden box. I knew I wasn't helping; I killed those men. No, I don't care about reasons. There's no rationalizing the past. My father was who he was. Oh, my Momma? I've never even met the woman.

Cringing does not do enough to express how poorly this went. I had just gotten an account on Zinder. It was going ok. I only posted three photos of myself, but didn't upload a genetic sample (what happened to romance, right?). I chatted with a couple humans and even one very extroverted fembot. And then I met her.

Our tastes fit together like puzzle pieces. 22nd Century literature and three-dimensional movies gave us endless discussion. I would hum through my shift at the zavod, counting the minutes until I could message her. Metro rides to and from work no longer punished me; it was merely more time to talk. This girl had seen all twenty four Pirates of the Caribbean movies. She owned her own paperback copy of The Old Moleman and the Cyber. I woke up one day, picked up the phone and sent her the message:

"Hey. Dinner tonight?" I waited, excited but confident. Surely, I wasn't the only feeling this. She had to sense this connection too. I sat up in bed, staring at the screen. Each moment stretched out into an empty abyss. My foot nervously wagged at the foot of my bed. But before pessimism could creep in, her reply popped up.

"Absolutely."

That night, I nervously fiddled with my tie. And then with my belt. And my shoes. But I was sure it wouldn't matter. She wouldn't care what I looked like. Despite my rationalizations, I still felt bad for not ironing my shirt. Part of me wished I still had that old road runner. I wanted to drive up, wind in my hair and sunglasses on. But all those were foolish thoughts.

I strolled into the lobby, confident. A waiter approached me; she was already here. I was led over to a small, decorated table. There sat the most gorgeous being ever. Her hair, her eyes, her smile, they all sparkled like stars over Olympus. I approached her, trying to contain my glee.

"Jeremy?" She asked.

"Yes," I replied. "Have you been--"

"-- Jeremy Wilder?"

"Yes, I am! Here to--"

And she disappeared. The hologram of my infatuation disappeared to reveal a smaller, humanoid android. On its chest plated read Tharsis Municipal Court

The droid slapped a manila folder on the table.

A mechanical voice scolded me. "You have been served. Please arrive at court on the scheduled date."