June 7, 2010

All new Otis Rex Private Detective episodes
available on the curseofthederse youtube channel.

May 6, 2010

April 29, 2010

April 24, 2010



Here are my first two short films created on the amazing website xtranormal.com
they make Avatar look like dog crap

April 23, 2010

They sat in the panel van waiting. He looked at his watch for the fourth time in as many minutes. It was 11:32 pm. They had been sitting in the van for over an hour. There hadn’t been any activity in the parking lot for a while now. Most of the stores in the strip mall had closed well before they’d arrived. “It’s time,” he said sitting up. The others snapped to attention and grabbed the heavy duffle bags filled with equipment. They stepped out of the van and into the dark parking lot. He nodded to the man who would be staying behind as lookout. “He probably thinks he’s getting an even cut,” he thought to himself. The man nodded back as if reading his mind. “What a dumb fuck,” he thought. “Let’s go,” he said to the other two men. They started towards the bookstore.

At the backdoor the man with the sledgehammer went to work on the door knob. The hammer had been wrapped in a bath towel to muffle the sound. With every hammer fall there was a cloud of what looked to be dog hair. The knob fell to ground after three swings. He waved the man aside and the other man stepped in and popped the door open with a crowbar. They stood in the doorway looking into the quiet blackness of the bookstore.


Officer Murray and the other policemen stood silently in the storage area. “Holy fucking Toledo,” Officer Murray said breaking the silence, “How in the fuck did you guys miss this?” The officers looked at one another not wanting to be the first to speak. “It’s a goddamned man-sized hole in the fucking wall!” Officer Murray shouted beginning to shake.

“I guess we didn’t check the storage area sir,” one of the officers offered. “Fucking-A right you didn’t or I’d hope one of you worthless shit heels would’ve stumbled on this crime scene!” The other officers went back to staring at the ground and fidgeting.

“So what’s on the other side of that wall, what’s the business next door?”
“It’s a License Bureau. A DMV, sir.”
“Should we call it in, sir?”
“Call what fucking in? We’re already here. Get your ass through that hole and see what those motherfuckers stole!”


143 License Plates, 2 Photo ID Printers, 300 State Hologram Strips, 1 Vision Test machine. “This is an impressive score,” Ernie said as he counted out the money. Ernie was well over 300 pounds. He slowly laid out the hundred dollar bills on the desk. Ernie did everything slow. Except when it came to moving stolen merchandise. Ernie did that fast. That’s why his nickname was Ernie the Fence rather than Ernie the Fat Man which would have been equally descriptive.

“Where did you come across all this equipment?” Ernie the Fence asked wheezing from the slight physical activity he had just struggled through, “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” “Oh, we just happened upon it while visiting a bookstore,” he replied as a smile grew on his face, “The Reading Railroad.”


April 9, 2010

“Good, it’s settled then. We do it tomorrow night,” he said quietly. There were four of them tightly packed in the ’89 LeBaron idling in front of the strip mall. The parking lot was empty. The store fronts had been closed for hours. He closed his eyes and pictured how it would all go down. Then he put the car in gear and pulled out of the lot. They drove in silence.


“Bbbbrrring, bbbbrrring!” Her eyes snapped open. “Bbbbrrring, bbbbrrring!” She slapped at the nightstand for the phone. “Hello?” she said to the other end wiping the sleep from her eyes. “Hello, is this the owner of The Reading Railroad at 6600 Saxon Square?” the unfamiliar voice said. “It is,” she responded sitting up.

“Well ma’am this is the Sylvania police department and I’m sorry to have to inform you, it appears there’s been a break-in at your bookstore.”
“I’m sorry ma’am, like I said there’s been a break-in. We have officers at the scene now.”
“Well was anything taken? Was anyone arrested?”
“I can’t say ma’am. I was only instructed to contact you. How quickly can you be there?”

“Give us twenty minutes,” she said hanging up the phone. Her husband was already awake; fumbling for his glasses on the dresser. “The store?” he asked. “There’s been a break-in. The police want us to come in,” she said glancing at the digital clock. It was 3:38 am.


He turned the nozzle. The water slowed to a drizzle. He pulled the shower curtain open and grabbed a towel from the rack. Wiping his face he pulled the towel back in disgust. Dog hair. “Genie, god damn it! Did you wash that fucking dog and hang the towel back on the rack?” he yelled through the door. “What baby?” he heard her say. He threw the towel on the floor and grabbed for another. “The rack is for people,” he muttered to himself and started violently drying his hair. “What’d you say babe?” Genie said again this time closer. He could hear her yappy little dog following behind her. The bathroom door knob slowly turned.

“Don’t open the door,” he screeched, “I don’t want that dog coming in. Not while I’m naked.”
“Oh stop it. Get over yourself.”
“I don’t want that little fucker hopping up and biting my penis!”
“What? Mr. Pickles isn’t gonna do that. Don’t be silly.”
“I’m not being fucking silly, I don’t wanna tease him.”
“Fine I won’t let him in. Why’d you call me over anyways?

“Nevermind,” he said opening the door holding the towel around his waist. Genie picked up Mr. Pickles and followed him into the bedroom. “We going out tonight?” she said trailing behind him. “No, I’ve got some things to take care of tonight,” he grumbled, “In fact I’m already running late.” He put on his watch. It was 8:17 pm.


They pulled into the strip mall parking lot. Their store was the only one with its lights on. The other storefronts were dark. For good reason it was still very late. Or very early. Her husband turned off the car and they got out. One of the officers walked up to them. “You must be the owners,” the officer said, “I’m Officer Murray.” The officer shook both their hands. “We should go around back,” he said, “it looks like they came in through the rear door.” They followed the officer around to the back entrance. The metal door was bent open. “It looks like they pried it open with a crowbar after beating the doorknob off,” the officer said. “Let’s go in,” he said waving them forward. There were half dozen police inside. Snapping photos. Looking around. Paging through books. Several of the tall book shelves were on the floor with their contents scattered everywhere. They stepped over copies of Judy Bloom and Baby Sitter Club paperbacks.

“Well the good news is the cash register is still here,” one of the other officers said to them. She walked over to the register and keyed in the code. The drawer sprung open still filled with cash. “So these guys broke in but forgot to take the money?” she asked looking around at the officers. “Looks like it,” Officer Murray said, “These guys were smash and grab types. Drug addicts aiming for a fix. Junkies. Probably were going for the register but got spooked for whatever reason and split.” “But why didn’t they just come in through the front, its glass?” her husband asked.

“They probably were scared of setting off an alarm. Who knows? They’re low-life drug addicts.”
“It just seems like a lot of trouble to go through and then leave empty handed.”
“Folks we see this all the time, this isn’t TV crime this is real life. Real life criminals are stupid.”
“So who called this in?”
“A night watchman across the street saw a flashlight inside, got suspicious.”
“Lucky break. I’m gonna check to see if everything in the storage room is okay.”

“I’m sure my guys have been back there,” Officer Murray said to him as he passed. “Well I think it’d be best for you to come to the station in the morning so we can start on the paperwork,” the officer said to her, “You know for insurance purposes and what have you.” The officer trailed off as he and the other officers began filing out the front door.

Their exit was interrupted by a shout from the storage room, “Holy shit!” they heard him yell, “Uh, officer I think you might wanna come back here and see this.”


March 23, 2010

This past weekend my grandmother turned 90 years old. To commemorate this milestone my family put together an event in which I was asked to make a speech. What follows is that speech. A quick side note, my grandmother was recently outfitted with a colostomy bag which she refers to as “Junior.”

“I’ve prepared a few remarks and promise to be brief. I just wanted to say happy birthday to grandma and share a few of my thoughts on this momentous occasion.

What can you say about grandma? Well, a couple years ago we could’ve said she was kinda full of shit but she carries a bag around for that now. So that’s out. What you can say is she’s ninety years old and still sharp as a tack. A…Ninety…Year…Old…Tack. Grandma you’re old.

Let’s put this in perspective. Grandma’s got plastic hips that are older than me. She’s had more parts replaced than a ‘09 Prius. The woman’s practically half machine she’s like Robocop except she doesn’t fight crime, she just complains about it.

Grandma’s so old she went to high school on an Ark. Her favorite class was gathering. It was the only class.

Dating was different back in grandma’s day; it was so long ago we now refer to it as carbon dating. On the first date she ever went on, rumor has it, the evening really started to heat up when her date discovered fire.

Happy ninetieth birthday grandma. You’re doing great. You look fantastic. And President Obama called earlier to congratulate you on using up all of the health care. Apparently we’re out.”

How sweet,