Knock Knocks are for creative development. It's a no holds, no bars, hell in a cell of Knock Knocks. Creative dumps while I'm working on other projects and in between other posts where I can play around with formats, tone, genre, and styling. Some stories continue, some don't. Some are random characters I wanted to explore. Some are exercises, some are quick reviews, some are jokes, and some are poorly constructed jokes. Knock Knock.
Mindhorn
Just fuckin' review it
Mindhorn
A virtually unemployable actor, Richard Thorncroft, previously played Detective Mindhorn in the titular show. After suffering a horrible accident, Mindhorn is gifted a bionic eye that allows him to know if people are telling the truth. Years after the show ends, a murderer demands to only speak with Mindhorn, and amidst his wailing career and the desire to see his old flame, Patricia, Thorncroft decides to help the authorities. Good twists and turns. Nice parody of the 70's detective lifestyle. It's a wacky, British comedy with heart.
Grass Eating Szn
The Les Miles story
Clank
I stalked up the dimly lit hallway of the ship's corridor. Ravaged by the cat and mouse game played by the mechanized horror hunting me. A brief hint of light from a falling fixture offered a faded edge at the dark end of the hall. The imagination using the blank canvas to paint a portrait of fears supporting the underlying threat of certain death. The short, silent puffs of breath cycling through my nostrils trying to get enough air to steady the thumping of my rapid heartbeat. Echoing like a shout into an open cave, the successive bumps cut out the silence surrounding me.
What felt like a march of confrontation, in reality had to be much more silent, but could that machine still pick it up? I closed my eyes and slowed my breath. I want to accept my fate knowingly. It'll give me the self-satisfaction of being right one last time. My eyelids flickered open, and the hall remained still, beckoning me forward.
I balanced my weight onto the side of my foot and rolled through the heel as I inched into the shadow. I tried to listen to the quiet for any signs of danger, thump thump thump, but the thunderous bang in my chest continued to fill the void. The edge of the fold was a short step away. The hard line of the shadow giving into a dense extension worsened by the contrasts of the bright light. The bits of flickering fuzzy specs in my vision danced to reveal purported outlines of the mech creature.
The sleek, square plated armor detailed with small blue, red, and green stripes hanging above its birth name "0-01". Given a consciousness all its own, and yet morality escaped its clutches. No reason would justify his murderous inclinations, just as no reason would justify my death stepping into the darkness.
My eyes began to adjust, but as the shape of ruins formed, the creak of a joint pierced my hearing. I could feel the bead of sweat pool and fall down the side of my face. I stretched my jaw forward to pull lose my tense muscles reeling for retreat, but there was nowhere to go. I froze mid-step. My breath slowed, but the Thump Thump Thump of my heart demanded more air until I felt the pull of my lungs and involuntarily let it shudder out. The creak announced itself once again.
My legs quivered as they remained still in stride. I felt the shake extend into my core. My lip now in pain as I tried to distract myself from revealing my false statue. The small specs I saw attempted to spark an outline of my predator. The hull of the light lines grew more defined. The shaking is growing unbearable. My muscles are screaming for release. My eyes are closed tight to shift focus to the slow incision of my bite. The specs remain on the inside of my eyes. Thump Thump
To Go
Norton clocked into The Pizza Manor and picked up a freshly prepared order for delivery. The smooth sting of the cardboard box sliding against the soft, nylon sheeting to keep the food warm preceded its placement in the passenger seat. When the police don't find him in his home the next place they'll look is work.
Norton wanted to create a false trail they could follow while he actually escaped. He'd steal different vehicles to make the authorities believe he'd just left north of the city. Currently, a 9mm rested in the glovebox of his car as a precaution of his occupation. If someone called a false delivery to mug him, he needed a defense. Now, he'd use it to reverse the roles.
The Orderer would give him the keys to their vehicle before reporting the mugging to the authorities. He would make his way to the edge of the city where a bridge led to fabricated freedom. Norton would steal another vehicle by mugging, and with the police thinking he'd left the city, he'd ditch the vehicle under the bridge and sink it. He'd steal another car and head the opposite direction. It would be hours or even days before they found the car in the river, if ever. By then it would be too late. He'd be long gone.
Hooking a right, Norton's headlights reflected off the single-story houses lining the block. The light illuminated sections of the building as the shadows stretched into narrow pathways. A quick left and another right positioned him in front of the order address. Norton killed the engine and reached over into the compartment for the glock. Tucking the gun into the back of his pants, he grabbed the insulated carrier and walked past a car parked in the driveway to the front-door.
At first, the pathway was dark, but suddenly the lights came on to confirm his location. Norton jolted upright as his neck tightened his facial muscles back. They had been watching him. He tried to calm down, but the moment of confrontation dawned on him. Stiffly shuffling his way up the small step to the porch, the locks had already begun undoing themselves as the door creaked open.
A man of average height stood in the doorway, alone, wearing a pair of well-worn jeans and a loose fitted, cotton shirt.
"Hey man, how much do I owe you?" were the words he said looking down at his wallet.
Norton twisted his body to grab the pistol snuggly positioned in his belt. The thermal container began dropping to the ground, alerting the man to the developing situation. Dumbly raising his head, the image of a weapon sent an instant fear shaking through the man's body. His fight or flight sense decided to soar when he threw his wallet at Norton's face. The immediate threat incoming stiffened Norton entirely, and as the gun rose, a bang drove a crash drowning out the plop of leather.
Wisps of smoke disappeared into the glow of the porch light, while blood began to push towards the doorframe. Norton remained still as the escalation started to register. Panic immediately began driving. He patted the warm sides of the still figure's pants. No luck of the keys. Taking a quick surveillance of the inside domicile, Norton discovered them resting on the wall. Ripping them from a hanging ring, Norton pressed the button repeatedly to call multiple flashes of light from the car parked in front. He stepped over the mess before him and bolted through the forming puddle.
The wet marks of his footprints led to the screech of tires while Norton prepared to try again.