Yes from the worlds latest student slayer we have two of his plays it seems. And they really are quite a frightening insight into a very troubled mind, and I'm pretty sure, if I was the tutor, I'd be packing him off quite quickly for an assesment with someone in a psychiatric unit.
Interestingly, he quotes Guns and Roses Lyrics in the second play, maybe denouncing immediately what I said about rock music not making you violent in the music thread.
quote:Originally posted by Waynster: And they really are quite a frightening insight into a very troubled mind, and I'm pretty sure, if I was the tutor, I'd be packing him off quite quickly for an assesment with someone in a psychiatric unit.
Really? I thought they were pretty banal - really very typical of what most teenagers who wanted to write angry stuff end up creating. I thought it was interesting that both pieces actually bottle out of showing any violent resolution. There's lots of threats and talk about violence, and an implied death at the end of the first one, but the violence against the hate figure is actually frustrated in both instances.
The other thing is a sense of someone trying to pin their anger on something - the whole Mr Brownstone thing is just like... it's creating something to be angry about, deliberately setting up a scene of injustice just so the characters can scream and shout about the unfairness of it all. Like, someone who's mad angry and is now trying to to find things to be mad angry at. Scary? I dunno. Sounds like a fairly typical teenager.
Obviously, this guy isn't completely typical, but I don't think the plays offer much insight. It's pretty chilling reading them, but any power or interest they wield comes exclusively from the fact that the author went on to become a mass murderer. Without that knowledge, I don't think the plays really demonstrate someone that unhinged. A creative writing tutor probably sees the same emotions expressed from dozens of students who don't go on to be mass murderers. I don't think there's a genuine indication there that he was going to flip out and kill a bunch of people.
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posted
The short stories I wrote whilst at school piss on Seung-Hui's in terms of violence, but I have yet to kill somebody so he's stumped me there.
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quote:Let me explain! John is a rambunctious pubescent boy.
Excellent. If I hadn't known who the author was I'd have thought that the piece was a knockabout satire on US family values, like something out of Burroughs or the 'I Love Mallory' segment in Natural Born Killers. 'Mr Brownstone' was more like a Larry Clark/Harmony Korine thing.
On a lot of the news blogs yesterday the pro-gunners were going on about how the killer was 'not actually American' - though at that point they thought he was a Chinese student on a visa. Reading those plays (and given that he moved to the US when he was 8 years old) it strikes me that, for better or worse, he was American through and through.
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quote:Originally posted by ben: it strikes me that, for better or worse, he was American through and through.
Why is this relevant? Don't understand. What does it matter where the dude was from?
I'm not trying to be antagonistic, I just wonder what your train of thought is to consider it worthy of mention.
edit; oh hang on, something about pro-gunners. right, can imagine where this would be going. sorry, didn't read properly. eyes like a pair of spastics, brain like an arsehole
quote:Originally posted by Black Mask: Maybe TMO could produce a genuinely 'troubling' playlet?
Dave Sunshine
By
Nathan Bleak
Characters
Dave Sunshine 17
Annie Sunshine 13
Mike Sunshine 46
Susan Sunshine 39
Scene - A large, clean kitchen. A table is at the foreground, laid out with cereal, a teapot and a coffee pot. Mike Sunshine sits at the table with a newspaper. He is wearing suit trousers, an immaculately ironed shirt, and a pair of slippers.
Susan (offstage): Annie, darling, please! You'll be late for school!
Annie (offstage): Mother, I am coming!
Mike cocks an eyebrow at the audience and smirks
Susan enters
Susan: Morning Mike!
(she kisses him on the head)
Mike: Morning my sweet love, my angel, my poppet. How did you sleep?
Susan: Like a dream, my precious darling, my knight in black Brookes Brothers.
(she stoops down to kiss him passionately. Unacknowledged Dave Sunshine enters. He has long greasy hair hanging over his face, baggy clothes and walks with a stooped shuffle. As Mike and Susan kiss he walks over to the refrigerator and takes a carton of orange juice. Mike sweeps Susan onto his lap, continuing the embrace. Dave takes a glass, pours his drink and watches. Finally the embrace breaks.)
Susan: (to Mike) You're a naughty boy! Behave yourself, or I'll have to punish you!
Mike: Yeah? Not if I punish you first!
(He smacks her on the behind with the paper. She laughs and goes to the fridge. Dave steps to one side to let her pass)
(Annie Sunshine enters the room. She's blonde, angelic and wearing a tight vest top and a pair of children's knickers.)
Susan: Good morning sweetheart!
Mike: Good morning baby! How's daddy's little angel?
Annie: Oh, daddy! I think I feel a bit sick! I'm not sure I should go to school today.
Mike: Is that right?
(he sweeps her up onto his lap, putting her in the same position Susan occupied just moments before)
Mike: So what's wrong with you, eh?
Annie: My tummy hurts.
Susan: Really? Nothing to do wiht the Maths test today.
Mike: You little rascal!
(He slips his hand up her vest top and tickles her, making her giggle. In the background Dave moves to the toaster and places two slices of toast in, then rams the mechanism down. He stands over the toaster and watches the bread heat up. Annie wriggles and laughs on her father's lap.)
Mike: Stomach ache! You naughty girl! I know what you're like... I know you inside out!
(Annie laughs louder at this, breaks free of his grasp and clambers onto her chair. She pours her cereal, tops it up with milk and eats it while watching her father. Susan takes a place at the head of the table, opposite Mike. Dave remains standing at the back.)
Susan: I think we need to go to the shopping centre on Saturday. Pick up some new clothes.
Mike: Fair enough. Might be time to get some - women's clothes for Annie here, too.
Susan: Really? Annie put your arms up.
(Annie puts her hands in the air. Susan smooths the front of the girl's vest)
Susan: Gosh yes. Looks like our little girl's starting to change shape!
Mike: Becoming a woman. I remember when your mother was that age. That was when I met her. Beautiful girl, she was. Just like you, Annie!
Susan: You're such a rascal, Mike.
(Susan beams adoringly at her husband. Annie looks, smiling, between the two of them. In the background, Dave puts his glass in the sink and leaves the room)
posted
The Telegraph has run a piece on the 'chilling insight' these playlets 'provide', but I think Nathan's skit highlights how silly this approach is. It's interesting that something he's thrown together on spec is considerably tamer than most of the murder/torture stuff that usually appears on tmo (there was even a 'killing spree' thread a couple of years back... as I recall, Benway's entry was genuinely chilling).
Am I mistaken in detecting irony or subversion in McBeef/Brownstone? There's something repellent about the idea that a mass-murderer would ever have the wit or imagination to self-satirise, but I remember one of the creepiest moments in Brian Masters' book about Dennis Nilsen was when Nilsen produced a spoof tabloid splash about his own arrest and crimes which at least as droll as anything appearing in The Onion.
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posted
I was reading a short article about Ian McEwan the other day in which they went on about how he was on Malcolm Bradbury's creative writing course in the 70s and used to submit absolutely horrific stories apparently. The article referred to one story which was later published in First Love, Last Rites:
quote:Homemade, which begins the collection, is an unsettling tale of a self-satisfied teenager, confident in his ability to outperform his friend in every 'adult' discipline: drinking, smoking, etc., until he realises he is still a virgin. The protagonist then sets out to have sex with his ten year old sister, whom he does not find in the least attractive ("you could almost pass her off as plain"), under the grotesque pretence of playing 'Mummies and Daddies". We get the impression that the narrator wants to lose the shameful tag of virginity above everything else, and is desperate to assert his masculinity on something, anything. This criticism of male thinking is best summed up in the narrator's thoughts as he "felt proud, proud to be fucking, even if it were only Connie, my ten-year-old sister, even if it had been a crippled mountain goat..."
Was this Virginia Tech guy really referred for psychiatric help because of his made up stories?!?!
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quote:The mood yesterday on The Tmo Talkboard was subdued but unrepentent. Some of Cho's one-time cyber-friends made jokes, while others expressed dazed indifference.
Discussing his reaction to the news that they all, in some small way, had blood on their hands, Tmo regular Mart gave the equivalent of a cyber shrug: "Me: dunno, really. A bit, kinda, "wow, freaky". But that's probably all."
quote:Originally posted by mart: Here's a thought: how would we be feeling about everything we've written if it turned out he'd been a TMO lurker.
Well, the newspapers seem to have got much of their biographical detail about the victims from places like MySpace and Facebook.com. It won't be long before absolutely everyone who isn't actually famous but happens to end up involved in an incident like this finds quotes from their online personas being repeated in the world press. I'm certainly going to be smartening up a bit with that thought in mind.
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A horrifying thought. I can just imagine the killer responding to the wails of "What are you doing you madman?" by shouting, "I imagine a number of the people in this building are mentally ill, or 'madmen' as you ignorantly call it, and your comments have probably made this situation pretty unpleasant and uncomfortable for all of them." Then blowing them in the gut with a shotgun, and as their entrails shower down, quipping "You've just been unpacked".
Small Doctor's surgery. The bespectacled Doctor Schweinsteiger is sitting comfortably in a high-backed leather chair behind his well-organised desk, twiddling his thumbs and chatting to Nurse Dupont about the dribbling spastics on last night's Weakest Link. The Nurse is sat at her smaller desk, alongside the examining table/bed which is hidden from view by a thick green curtain.
Nurse Dupont: [chuckling] That was the icing on the cake, really it was! I mean, do these freaks know anything? [laughs out loud] My six year-old son answered more questions correctly than that fat lard-arse from Kent! Incredible.
Doctor Schweinsteiger: Yes, it is indeed a terrible state of affairs isn't it. I might have to resort to watching Home & Away instead, such is my anger towards these brain-dead toe-rags that litter the show. I'm astounded that Anne Robinson has yet to throttle any of them. I can just see it now - Anne dashes to "Mike, the postman from Sussex", thrusts her hands around his neck and shakes it backwards and forwards until saliva is seeping from the sides of his mouth, drops of blood pitter-pattering onto his answer board.
Nurse Dupont: [now crying with laughter]
[KNOCK! KNOCK!]
Doctor Schweinsteiger: Ah. This'll be my 11.15 appointment. I believe the patient's name is 'Clare'. [looks at computer screen] Hmm. Been complaining of extreme vaginal pains during orgasm. Hmm. Interesting. What a bloody shame, eh Nurse?
Nurse Dupont: Oh crikey. Sounds horrific. I can't bear to think about it. During orgasm? Fucking terrible shame. Usually takes such great efforts to get to that stage too. [shakes head sorrowfully]
Doctor Schweinsteiger: [turns head 45 degrees to look towards door] Come in.
[Clare pops her head tentatively into the office, looks at the Nurse then peers towards the Doctor]
Clare: [blushing] Erm. Hi. I have an appointment at 11.15?
Doctor Schweinsteiger: Yes, indeed. Do please take a seat. [points at small chair to his right]
[Clare scurries around and sits in patients' chair]
Doctor Schweinsteiger: So... [glances at computer screen, reading the notes] You've been experiencing a few problems of late... during sexual intercourse I gather?
Clare: [steals a glance at the Nurse, then angles her head downwards in an attempt to hide her embarrassment] Yes. That's correct. Everything is fine until, you know, I can feel myself reaching orgasm, then, suddenly, it feels like there's a fire being ignited deep within my womb. The pain subsides about an hour after sex, but returns whenever I am on the verge of orgasm again. It's horrible and I've been losing sleep over it. I'm worried about what's causing the pains. Really worried.
Doctor Schweinsteiger: [strokes chin] Hmmm. Have you been taking any drugs or drinking much alcohol recently?
Clare: No, not really.
Doctor Schweinsteiger: What do you mean, "not really?"
Clare: Well... I... erm. I took some strange pills last weekend and the problems have started since then.
Doctor Schweinsteiger: I see. [tries to look unconcerned by this news] Well, obviously that won't have helped the situation. Have you been sleeping with the same partner recently?
Clare: [face turns bright red] Well... erm, not really. You see, I took some ecstasy tablets on Saturday night and I've never felt as horny in my entire life. I mean, I was literally running around the dancefloor and hugging and kissing every man in sight. Everybody just looked so gorgeous and sexy. I nearly came on the dancefloor such was the vigour with which I was writhing around amongst everybody. It was soooo sexy. [grins seductively at her recollection of the memory]
Doctor Schweinsteiger: Okay. So you're telling me that you might have had sex with more than one individual last Saturday?
Clare: Yes.
Doctor Schweinsteiger: How many? [raises left eyebrow and looks knowingly at the Nurse] Did you use any protection?
[Nurse Dupont frowns and squints her eyes, awaiting Clare's response]
Clare: Eight. I fucked eight of them back at the afterparty. Okay? And, before you say anything, it was MY decision and MY decision alone. Okay? It was a liberating experience and one that I do not regret in the least and I won't hesitate to do it again should a similar situation arise in the future. Except next time, I'll probably use condoms, although I fucking hate the bleeding things.
Doctor Schweinsteiger: Right. Okay. Now that we've established that, please would you care to go over to the examining table, pull the curtain around and remove your clothes. I shall have to examine you.
Clare: [still grinning] Yes, certainly Doctor. I'll be waiting for you. [licks lips erotically, stands up and saunters towards examining table, hips moving from side-to-side]
Nurse Dupont: [sighs]
[Doctor Schweinsteiger makes some notes and presses a few keys on his keyboard, before glancing at Nurse Dupont, who looks away in disgust]
Ten minutes later:
Doctor Schweinsteiger: Are you okay in there Clare?
Clare: [chuckles] Yes, I'm ready Doctor.
Doctor Schweinsteiger: [gets up from desk and walks into the examining area, behind the curtain] Okay, if you'd like to just hoist yourself up on the bed and relax. This won't take a moment.
Clare: [still staring into the Doctor's eyes] Yeah sure. You have the most beautiful eyes, you know? [the Doctor ignores this comment and starts his investigation]
Doctor Schweinsteiger: Clare. You really must stop moving around whilst I'm doing this. This is a very intricate task and your gyrating hips is not helping.
Clare: [frowns] Okay. No problem. Whatever.
Doctor Schweinsteiger: Right. All done. You may get yourself dressed now. I shall speak to you when you get back to my desk.
[the Doctor slides in between the curtains, sits down at his desk and makes some more notes]
[Clare emerges from the examining room and smiles exaggeratedly at the Nurse, who ignores this puerile gesture]
Doctor Schweinsteiger: Okay Clare. I have considered all the elements of what you've told me and I am 100% certain of what is wrong with you.
Clare: Oh. Really? What is it then?
Doctor Schweinsteiger: You have a condition known as Dyspareunia. Because the pains are felt deep in your pelvis, we refer to your illness as 'Deep Dyspareunia.
Clare: Oh right. Is that bad?
[Nurse Dupont shakes head and places it in her hands]
Doctor Schweinsteiger: Well, yes, of course it is. If you continue to have unprotected sex with strangers, the chance of your recovery are extremely slim, whilst on the other hand your chance of contracting further diseases is increased dramatically.
Clare: Uh-huh. How do I get rid of these fucking pains then. This Dysp-whatever-it-is-you-call-it?
Doctor Schweinsteiger: Well, your "Dyspareunia" was set off by other sexually-transmitted diseases. I suggest that you abstain from any sexual activities and come back and see me in four weeks' time. Once the pains subside, which they will, given time, only then can we tackle the other problems head-on. Is that okay, Clare?
Clare: [frowns and fold arms] Hmpf. Alright then. Fine. I'll just have no more fun for a month. Great. I can't wait.
[Clare shoots up, frowns at the Nurse and makes for the door]
[Door slams shut]
Nurse Dupont: Stupid fucking slag.
Doctor Schweinsteiger: [sighs] Yes, it's certainly a bit of a pickle. Hopefully one day she'll learn. One day...
Nurse Dupont: I doubt it. She's from Moston - what do you expect? Filthy, flea-ridden cunt.
Doctor Schweinsteiger: Hmm. I'm hungry. Fancy a kebab? That Paki - oh sorry, that 'Pakistani' place over the road is pretty good.
Nurse Dupont: Yeah, it's nearly 12 now. Let's go.
[Doctor Schweinsteiger and Nurse Dupont stand up, grab their coats and leave the office]
posted
I dunno man, it's a good effort but it doesn't really do it for me. Maybe it went over my head, but, there's nothing really shocking in it, apart from the racism at the end which seems to be stuck on for effect.
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quote:Originally posted by Tilde: I dunno man, it's a good effort but it doesn't really do it for me. Maybe it went over my head, but, there's nothing really shocking in it, apart from the racism at the end which seems to be stuck on for effect.
posted
right, I've got something else to throw on the pile. Sorry, it's not really any good.
HAVING SOME WORK DONE
Patrick Doegen (40) James King (50) Robert King(45) Paul King (17) Ryan Pryce (67)
PATRICK pulls up into the drive of a mock tudor house in a silver BMW. He walks to the front door where he fumbles with keys. He has some difficulty opening the door. Eventually he rings the bell, and JAMES opens the door. He is wearing a football shirt and paint spattered jeans. He lets PATRICK into a hallway that is scattered with painting and decorating equipment.
James: Sorry mate, we didn't want Paul to get out into the road, you know.
Patrick: Right. Paul...?
James: Oh, Paul's the lad. My nephew. He's come along to help out with the painting.
Patrick: Ah, ok. How's it going?
James: Alright, yeah. Still got some of the upstairs to do and...
Patrick:...I was hoping to get the downstairs finished by today too...
PATRICK motions to the equipment.
James: Oh, we can clear this up before we leave.
Patrick: Right, right.
LAUGHTER COMES FROM UPSTAIRS
Patrick: So, how long....?
James: (laughs) Don't worry mate, we'll be out of here in an hour or so.
Patrick: Ok, great. Well, don't let me get in your way! I'm just going to pop into the shower. You...need anything?
James: Nah, it's alright, we know where everything is.
Patrick: Of course, of course.
Robert appears at the top of the stairs, dressed in the same way as his brother
Patrick: Hello! How's it going?
Robert: Everything's under control Pat!
Patrick: Yes, good.
James: Mr. Doegen is going to take a shower in a moment, Rob
Robert: Right, ok
ROBERT remains at the top of the stairs
PATRICK walks through the hallway. In the kitchen he reads a note on the fridge, and grabs a box from a cupboard near the sink. It is dog food. He moves to the corner of the room and fills up a bowl with the food, before opening the back door
Patrick: (shouting) TIMBER! TIMBER! COME ON LAD! (aside) dinner is served, your highness...
Patrick walks back through to the hall where James is still standing
James: You..want that shower now?
Patrick: Yes...why is....?
James: Bob and Paul are just finishing up. Won't be long.
Patrick: Right, it's just that I've got to go out in a bit
James: Anywhere nice?
Patrick: Ahh...yes, look, I really do just need to jump in, would you mind...?
James: No, let me just go and see how they're getting on.
Patrick: Ok, thanks. I appreciate it.
JAMES walks up the stairs and enters a room.
PATRICK uses his mobile phone
Patrick: Hello it's me, just saying that I got back early so I'll sort out dinner, so you can just get back and change... Don't be angry, but it's still a bit of a mess downstairs... Dread to think what the bedroom looks like! Anyway, see you later, remember, eight o'clock.
PATRICK moves back to the kitchen. He looks around before returning to the hall and walking up the stairs to the bedroom door. He tries to open the door but it is jammed.
Patrick: Hello? Hello?
Robert: Pat?
Patrick: Ah...yes..ah...do you know where Timber is?
James: Mr. Doegen?
Patrick: Yes... is...Timber up there with you?
James: Nah, he's out the back
Patrick: OK. Look, I really do want to get into the shower.
James: Yep, just need to move some things here
Patrick: It's fine, honestly
James: Yep, yep, if you could just hold on a tick.
Patrick: Right.
PATRICK waits outside the door
James: Mr. Doegen?
Patrick: Yes?
James: We'll be a few more minutes here, so...
Patrick: Okay, okay.
PATRICK heavily walks back to the kitchen and out to the back door and into the garden. He inspects the area, and eventually finds a hole in the ground near the fence. Shaking his head, he returns to the house. In the kitchen he then begins preparing dinner, but finds a scarf that interests him. He picks it up and walks to the bottom of the stairs
Patrick (shouting: HELLO? JAMES?
Robert appears at the top of the stairs
Patrick: Oh, Robert, look, has Lucy come back with the kids already?
Robert: Lucy?
Patrick: Yes, Lucy my wife?
Robert: No, no, we haven't seen her Pat.
Patrick: Right. It's just... Well. No, it's fine. Also, has the neighbour, Mr. Pryce come round?
Robert: Pryce?
Patrick: Yes, it's just I think that Timber has escaped again. He sometimes gets out.
Robert: No, nobody came round. I can ask James if he's seen anybody.
Patrick: Could you? Actually, No, it's fine. I'll go round in a minute. You keep working. How long until I can jump in the shower?
Robert: Not long, Pat. 5 minutes.
Patrick: Right, thank you.
Patrick: (To self) fucking hell...
Patrick goes out the front door and casually walks to his neighbour's house. He rings the front door bell.
Ryan: Ah, Mr. Doogen!! Lovely to see you!
Patrick: Hello Ryan. Look, Timber hasn't been round again has he?
Ryan: No, no, I don't think so
Ryan (shouting into house): LOVE? IT'S MR. DOOGEN - HAS HIS DOG COME UNDER THE FENCE AGAIN? NO? OKAY, THANKS.
Ryan: Sorry Mr. Doogan, we haven't seen him today. Everything alright? Is the work going ok?
Patrick: Yes, look, so you haven't seen him all day? Oh christ. Sam will be beside himself. Listen, thanks, and if you do see him, give me a shout would you?
Ryan: Of course, Mr. Doogan. Bye now!
Patrick: Bye Ryan.
PATRICK walks back to the house, and uses his mobile phone. As he calls, a phone is ringing nearby.
Patrick: What the....
We hear his phone go to voice mail and the ringing stops. He calls again. The ringing starts again. Eventually he locates the ringing to the transit van outside the house.
Patrick: Of all the....
PATRICK runs back into the house and stands at the bottom of the stairs
Patrick: James! James! Please can you come down here.
James (muffled): TWO SECS MR DOEGEN
Patrick runs up the stairs, angry. He stand outside the door and turns the handle. It is still jammed.
Patrick: No, this is important. I'm sorry James, I'm sure that it's happened by mistake but...I don't know how to put this... my wife's phone has found it's way into your van. I think it's probably best if you come down here and return it to me.
James: Oh, I'm sorry mr. Doegen. That would be Paul. PAUL!
sound of muffled banging
James: PAUL, did you take Mrs. Doegen's phone?
muffled talk
James: I'll come down now Mr. Doegen.
Patrick waits by the door.
James: Are you waiting by the door? It's just that I'm going to bring some equipment down and I'll need a bit of room.
Patrick: James, I want you out the room.
James: Right.
The door opens a small amount and James slides through the gap, carrying a paint bucket. Patrick sees a shaven headed boy in the room. As the door closes again, there is a thump against the door
Patrick: James, just what -
James: Okay, let's go and get that phone. Sorry about the confusion.
Patrick: No, this is too much now, I need to -
James grabs Patrick's arm
Patrick: What are you doing? What -
James: Let's go and get that phone.
Patrick: You -
PATRICK attempts to swing at JAMES. He misses. JAMES pulls PATRICK as he moves down the stairs. They are struggling, and PATRICK is lashing out.
Laughter comes from behind the bedroom door. The door opens for a moment and then slams shut. JAMES pulls PATRICK out into the street.
Patrick: YOU WON'T GET- TAKE YOUR - THIS -
James opens the van door
Patrick: Oh my -
JAMES throws PATRICK into the back van and walks back into the house, closing the door behind him.
fin
apologies if you found that boring, badly paced, or embarrasing.
[ 18.04.2007, 09:08: Message edited by: Jimmy Big Nuts ]
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