If you haven't seen the first one, do it! It's very different and got him a gig doing a Star Wars movie and Godzilla.
Enjoy
John
Friday, May 8, 2015
Monsters, Dark Continent 2nd Trailer
If you haven't seen the first one, do it! It's very different and got him a gig doing a Star Wars movie and Godzilla.
Enjoy
John
Protein "A Journey to the Center of the Earth Story" By John Pirillo
Protein
"A Journey to the Center of the Earth Story"
By John Pirillo
"Yeah. Yeah. I know. The Journey of a Thousand
Miles." Miles complained to the President. "But realistically, we've
easily gone that far already, Mister President."
"Call me, Jim."
"Mister President. We have very little down here now to
remind us of the Upper World, let's keep this little bit, shall we?"
"Very well, but after..."
Miles nodded, but as he looked away from the man who was
growing to be a close friend, he didn't want to let him see the skepticism in
his eyes and on his face. They were getting too good at reading each other.
"Still." The President persisted.
Miles saluted. "Mister President, I see my attention is
needed up front if you don't..."
"At ease, General, go ahead. Do your job. I'll do mine,
which is absolutely nothing."
Miles started to reprimand the President, but when several
of his men looked over, shocked by the admission, instead he said. "Your
job is never just nothing. You are the United States to us, the world. We need
that symbol now more than ever."
The President wavered for a moment, and then also becoming
aware of the attention on him, he nodded and gave a reluctant smile. "Of
course. You're right. Go do your duty, while I stay here..."
With a touch
of irony. "...And do mine."
Miles saluted again and headed for the front of the marching
men.
"Don't blame him."
The President turned around and gave Smirgey a weak smile.
"I blame me."
"That'll get you nowhere. I should know. I've practiced
that philosophy for years. Look what that got me?" Gestures around him.
The President grins. "You're a real ape shit, you know
that?"
"Yeah. It happens."
They dropped back further behind the marching column, both
of them noting the haggard look in the Special Forces faces.
"Really eats your heart out, don't it?"
"And everything else as well.
Smirgey puts a hand on the President's shoulder. "Big
men are made by God to shoulder larger loads. Don't ever forget that."
Smirgey starts to drop back further.
"So you're abandoning me too?" The President asks.
"Nope. Just got to wee, is all?"
They both laugh and Smirgey falls back further and further.
Dirk steps beside the President. "Got some protein if
you're hungry, sir?"
The President eyes him uncertainly. "What...?
"You don't want to know."
The President nods. "I most certainly do not. I'll
pass. I need to lose weight anyway."
"Your call, Sir."
The President watches Dirk move up the line, offering the
protein to the men as he passes. Miles returns, notes Dirk, gives him a nod,
then joins the President. "Men like him make this work."
"Yeah. If we could only figure out what the hell work
we're doing?"
Miles laughs. "Sir, you'd make a good grunt, but don't
ever let any of the men hear you say that, because that's exactly what they're
thinking this very moment."
"I'll remember that."
They both walked along in silence for a time, and then the
President spoke. "Do you think any of this makes a difference now? The
bomb no longer works. We have very little ammunition left."
"As long as we got brains and will, it's not
over."
"But the Dark Matter..."
"I don't know why, Jim, but something tells me all that
matters is our attitude, not the cause of the Big One, nor our goal of
dismantling it from ever happening again. This whole journey from the beginning
feels fixed somehow."
The President stopped and looked into Miles face.
"Rigged?"
"Yeah. Rigged. When I was still a private..."
"Hard to imagine you ever being that."
"Now maybe, but I was, just like many of these grunts
that are following us now. Back then I used to play a lot of card games."
"You were a gambler?"
"Aren't all soldiers?"
"Oh!"
"Yeah. You get it, don't you?"
"And what happened?"
"When I gambled?"
"That."
Miles looked away and began walking forward again, nodding
to the men he passed as he and the President moved ahead.
"There was this jerk named Mahoney. A real cop out of
life and living. He made his money by setting up dumb clucks like me."
"Hard to imagine you ever being dumb."
"Maybe naive better explains it. But no matter, I was
stupid to his tricks, until one day after about nine months of losing to him,
even when I had mastered every angle of the game. Even after seeing how he was
manipulating the others, I still couldn't get it."
"Then how did you...get it?"
"He was drinking a bit more heavily than usual...his
gal back south had abandoned him for one of his pals."
"Tough on a guy."
"Yeah. But you won't find me shedding any tears for
that jerk."
"Why?"
During one of his hands as he was dealing, he lost
consciousness and spilled over onto the card table, spilling everything to the
floor. As it tumbled, his coat opened up and I could see this device strapped
to his chest, loaded with cards."
"Winning cards I suspect."
"For him that night. Losing. The guys didn't take it as
well as me. They beat the crap out of him."
"And you?"
"I grew up"
The President was about to comment, when the sound of
weapons came from ahead. In moments the narrow corridor of rock and eerily
glowing moss exploded with the movement of gigantic Insectoids. Intelligent
beings that had evolved from insects.
Miles and the President prepared for battle. Neither was
excited, or frightened anymore. It had become part of the drudgery of the
incursion into the planet Earth. Neither one knew how deep they were anymore,
only that their lives were inextricably bound with some kind of forces that
either wanted to wipe them off the planet, or something else. Something else
that none of them could figure out.
"Look out!" Miles cried out and levered a fist
over the President's shoulder and smacked an Insectoid in its right mandibled
jaw. It cried out horribly and slashed a razor sharp hand at his face. The
President ducked under it and heaved a bayonet knife into its abdomen and
slashed upwards, spilling yellow and green ichor all over him, as Miles shoved
him aside, then decapitated the creature before it could do further damage.
Up and down the line men fought for their lives, not because
they had to anymore, but because it broke the monotony. Such had become the
fate of their lives that danger was the only thing they could look forward to
anymore.
Even Smirgey grinned as he fought off an especially large
Insectoid with Cook's frying pan, smacking it across the chops, then over the
head, until the Cook could execute a hammer slice with his cleaver, finishing
it off.
"Thanks!" Smirgey said.
"No problem." The Cook said with a smile.
"Lots of protein tonight."
Smirgey threw up.
Interview with the Devil: Professor Moriarity...Part One by John Pirillo
Interview with the Devil: Professor
Moriarity...Part One
Contrary to what most people believe and think about the
Holmes cannon, there are many aspects of its villains that are not fully
explained, and probably one of the least understood and perhaps even most
understood is Professor Moriarity.
Born in the glens of Scotland to a poor family, he strove to
build a life from the ashes of poverty that eventually led onto the road of
crime as a master criminal, but what if we had spoken to him, been able to plumb
the depths of that sinister mind, would our opinion, perhaps, be different?
To that exploration I offer the first interview ever with
Professor Morey Moriarity, the original and one and only Moriarity, who was
able to become the legend of many a story and of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's
cannon of Sherlock tales.
It was my good luck to be on a small vacation in England,
exploring some of the elder ruins that remain throughout the land. I was
researching the remnants of the Black Hand, a nefarious gang of outlaws, who
terrorized England during the early Victorian days, much as the Mafia has in
our country and especially during the prohibition. But therein the similarity
ends, for the Black Hand, though as volatile and vocal as Isis, they were a
much darker breed of villains. They gave rise to the likes of Blackbeard, Henry
the Eighth: the Wife Killer, Jack the Ripper, and the never forgettable Hyde.
How so?
That was what puzzled me, for it the Black Hand existed as
some rumors had it, then how had they been left out of the history books for so
long. I even went to the British Museum in a fruitless effort to find at least
a scrap of history about the infamous Black Hand. But nothing. At least until I
discovered a small book store called The Black Hand.
Intrigued by the name, which I'm sure you would be as well,
but a bit frightened as well, I noted the words: All Things Occult and
Forbidden of the Arts. Above the door, but below the sign. Now I an overly
brave man by nature, but I couldn't let this pass, not after flying thousands
of miles of frigid ocean at dangerous heights. I get air sick quite easily, so
it was definitely my form of bravery to put up with the hours of flight wherein
my heart palpitated pitifully in my breast at the thought of the plane going down,
which it seemed about to with every air current that buffeted us and every
sudden announcement by the pilot that something was changing.
Getting back to my adventure, I entered the shop after many
times wanting to just go away, even run away. If the Black Hand did indeed
exist, was I walking into the very den of inequity I sought to expose through
my writing and how would they take that, knowing I was onto them?
But surprise of surprises I was greeted by a very slender
maiden with golden hair and bright blue eyes with a humble voice and demeanor.
"How may I help you?" She had asked.
"I'm looking for anything related to the Black
Hand?" I told her, my heart still pounding in my chest, even with the
sight of the beautiful young woman before me.
She smiled and did a slight circle with her arms, indicating
the entire shop. "Here everything is about the Black Hand."
Now that almost sent me bolting for the door, except that at
that moment an extremely large man entered and stood there behind me, not
moving. Now I could hear my heart in my ears it was pounding so hard. Have you
ever felt you were in the greatest of dangers of losing your life? At that
moment I did.
"Uh." I began, not sounding very certain or bright
at that moment. "I am researching for a novel I am writing. I was led to
believe by a gentle, older woman in Brighton that Professor Moriarity was the
founder of the Black Hand. I've always felt the man was maligned in the stories
of Sherlock and on TV, and wanted to see if there was any way I could clear his
good name.
She laughed. "Then you've come to the right place.
Follow me."
I felt the large man behind me still. I dare not turn about
to look, for that might be what he expected and was prepared to manage if
necessary. Instead, I followed the young woman like a lamb to the slaughter,
hoping for the best.
I entered a very well lit backroom with shelves of ancient
tomes carefully labeled and placed behind plate glass doors. The room was
gently conditioned by an ionizer to keep out dust and particles that might
prematurely age the works. She pointed to a large table. "You can sit
there. Would you like some tea? I have some Blackwood Tea, it's a combination
of green and gold, that warms the blood while brightening the mind."
Surprised I responded. "Why, uh, yes, yes I
would."
She gave me a knowing look, and then went into another room.
I could hear her tinkering around in there. I almost felt comfortable again,
but then the large man entered the room and sat down at the table with me. His
hands were gloved in black velvet. His shirt was a black silk with a black tie
and he wore black pants. He had a very nicely threaded black cape that was
slung over his right shoulder. His hair was pure black, his eyes as well. There
wasn't a single menacing look about the man. He appeared to be quite muscular,
his eyes were sharp like an eagle's, his expression alert and focused. He wore
an oddly shaped cap over his long hair that was pulled down more so on his
right side, as if to hide something.
"You are Mister Pirillo?"
I was startled and once more ready to make a bolt for the
exit, which he sensed and rose to block my way out. I had been about to rise,
so instead I relaxed.
"I am."
His eyes searched mine a long time. "You are aware of
it all, aren't you?"
It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact.
How does one respond to such a thing?
"Whatever do you mean, sir?"
He sat down opposite me and this time I tensed, but made no
effort to move, or to appear distraught, even though my heart continued to race
and I'm sure my face flush with red. "Do you give fair interviews?"
"I am known for being absolutely fair and honest."
I replied. I never alter the words of those I interview. I have a perfect memory
and even though I record everything, I always check back with my memory to make
sure I didn't miss anything.
He leaned forward, revealing a narrow smile and pure white
teeth. "Even with villains?"
Okay. That was unexpected.
"Here's your tea, sir." The young woman said as
she entered. She went straight to the man and gave him a hug and light kiss on
the cheek, then turned to smile at me. "I see you've met my father."
"Your..."
"Father." She repeated, the touch of a twinkle in
her eyes and amusement on her lips.
"In a matter of speaking."
Suddenly, he reached across the table with the speed of an
attacking viper and took my right hand. "Can I trust you?"
At that moment I would've lied to God Himself, I was so
terrified of that edifice in front of me.
"Uh...yes." I finally
managed.
The room became deathly still and silent, then he let go and
gave me an amused look. "I thought you were nothing less, else I would
never have led you here in the first place."
"Led me here?" Now I was scared and confused.
"But why?"
He took off the top hat he had been wearing and revealed a
terrible scar on the right side of his head that had been hidden by the hat. He
had been hiding something. Something horrible and something I shall reveal
through this interview.
He reached out his hand again, but this time more slowly to
shake mine. I hesitated. "I am Professor Morey Moriarity. The man you
seek."
I almost blacked out. This was impossible. Not in modern
times. Not in this day and age. And not on my earth. I reached out and took his
hand. It was as powerful as a lumberjack's, but warm at the same time. He let
go, then turned to his daughter. "I'd like a cup as well."
"Yes, father." She told him, and then vanished yet
again into the room next door.
He leaned over and eyed me closely. "Ask away."
I took a moment to realize I had finally achieved my goal,
though in a manner I would never have thought possible. It wasn't until months
later that I had my interview with Sherlock, Watson and Houdini, so I wasn't as
sure about the Baker Street Universe then as I would be later.
I pulled my cell phone from my right trouser pocket, laid it
on the table and eyed him. "I'm going to record this if you don't
mind?"
He shook his head. "The truth must be known."
"Very well."
I gestured over the face of my phone, and then activated the
voice recorder. I leaned closer, pushing the phone between us so it could catch
both our voices clearly.
I gulped, took a deep breath and posed my question,
expecting to be struck down immediately for my temerity to ask such a question.
"Are you the infamous Professor Moriarity of the Sherlock Holmes
legends?"
"I am."
(The Second part of this interview will be published later today.
Be sure to tune in when I tell you Moriarity explains how he got the
terrible wound to his head.
---John Pirillo, Author and Interviewer)
Awkul frackin, simple tacking, muple macking, wickle whackin...WHAT!
Awkul frackin, simple taking, muple macking...WHAT!
You haven't gone to take a look at THE BAKER STREET UNIVERSE yet?
It's becoming a fan favorite with all kinds of cool animations, movies, audio books, stories and more importantly real interviews with the heroes of the Universe: Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Watson and Harry Houdini to begin with.
While I don't update that one as frequently as this site, it gets a lot of juicy morsels you're just not going to see here.
I just finished my Interview with Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Watson and Harry Houdini, and am about to begin posting interviews with some villains as well. HEY! Even villains have a life, don't they? :)
THE BAKER STREET UNIVERSE. Click me now!
Thursday, May 7, 2015
(New) The Angel "A Lovelight Story" By John Pirillo
The Angel
"A Lovelight Story"
By John Pirillo
"The first time she saw an angel she fell in love. The
second time she saw an angel she saved a dying man. The third time she saw an
angel she went to heaven." From the diary of a Nurse.
Lovelight set the poetry book down and sighed. "I have
yet to see any angels." She sighed yet again, then got up from her bed and
went to her vanity to stare at her face in the mirror. She was a teenager, not
out of high school. Too young to drive. To date. To do much of anything. Not
that any of that mattered so much. She had yet to meet a boy who made her heart
flutter as her Mom was in the habit of saying about Father.
She mused on that a moment, then began shaping her blonde
hair, her eyes focused on a world in the future, when she might be readying
herself for a date.
"Lovelight!" Her Mom called from downstairs. She
sighed again, glancing quickly at her feet, where the house slippers hung on
barely. They were worn out, but she loved them. Her grandmother had given them
to her last Christmas before she crossed into the Light. She wiped at her eyes
then, feeling moisture gathering. She didn't like thinking about that. She
missed her terribly, even if she was a bit grouchy at times. She knew Grammy,
as she called her, was in a lot of pain in the end, and being grouchy was a
privilege. But she never lashed out or hurt anyone, just complained. Not even
about the pain, mostly about the weather. Not hot enough. Not cool enough. Too
much of it.
She barked with laughter for a moment, remembering the look
on Grammy's face. Her lips would purse together like two pincushions and her
eyebrows meet like a caterpillar crawling across her forehead, and her gray
hair would float for a moment as Grammy would swipe at it, not even realizing
she was doing so.
"Lovelight!" Her Mom called again, louder.
"Coming, Mom!" She hollered, and then hurriedly
touched up her face with some powder and lip balm.
Mom was in the process of fixing her lunch when she came
storming down. "Lunch?" She gasped.
"Oh my God! It's Monday! I
forgot!"
She turned around to the bark of her Mom's laughter and
dashed back upstairs to hurriedly dress for school. Her Mom laughed the same
way she did and Dad said she got it from Mom, who claimed she caught it from
Grammy. No one wanted to take credit for it. She grinned; finished tightening
up her blouse behind her back, then slipped into a pair of jeans, slapped some
rouge onto her cheeks, some mascara around her eyes, then blasted downstairs,
grabbed the lunch bag and ran for the front door.
"Wait! Breakfast!" Mom hollered.
"No time!" She yelled back over her shoulder, not
slowing down for a second.
She reached the bus stop just seconds before the other kids
climbed aboard and the driver was about the shut the door. He grinned at her, and
she saluted him. He liked that. Ex-military he had told her once, then she shot
for the back where she usually sat, nodding to some of the kids she knew, high
fiving some, slapping palms or bumping fists with others as she trooped back
there.
Finally, she sat down, exhausted and worn out already, even
if it was the start of the day and she'd had a full night's sleep. She had been
looking forward to a visit with her friend, Stephanie, whose mom always drove
her to school, and now that would have to wait, though they could still gossip
between classes or during class when the teacher wasn't looking.
Poor Mister Henry, he was an older man, hard of hearing, so
any kids on his left side got away with murder as long as his ears were facing
that direction, which they usually were when he was lecturing. She and
Stephanie got in some quick gossip during those times.
As the bus shuddered into movement, coughing a few times,
its old motor working like the devil to get up to steam, the roar of it
vibrating the back of the bus like a comforting rocker, they were on their way.
As they drove she looked into her lunch bag, hoping Mom
remembered to put an apple in there for her lunch. But what she found was a
note, two apples and a yogurt. She read the note. "Dear Lovelight, I
thought you might like the extra apple and yogurt. Love you. Mom."
"Love you too, Mom!" She whispered to her absent
Mom.
She dug into the yogurt with the plastic spoon in the bag,
then finished, began munching on the apple. Suddenly, the bus jammed to a
screeching halt. A car behind them almost struck them and honked its horn
violently in complaint.
Kids ahead of her were all standing up and muttering
excitedly. She stood and plowed forward a bit to see for herself. Ahead of them
were two cars in the middle of the intersection of Crawley and Benson. It was
the main two roads before the school. One of the vehicles was a brand new SUV,
a Chevy. The other was an older truck, the old heavy metal kind that could plow
through a ten thick brick wall without stopping. It had done so here as well,
breaking the SUV in half. Half of it lay to the side and the other half upside
down.
Lovelight began praying for the souls of the people in the
accident, and then she gasped. The SUV was Stephanie's Mom's.
"Oh my God!" She cried out.
The bus driver tried to stop her from exiting, but she
forced the door and ran to the SUV, shoving aside people who just stood there
doing nothing but looking at the broken bodies lying on the pavement. The sound
of sirens grew in the distance.
A man stumbled from the truck and almost fell, then righted
himself. As he stepped forward a brown bag in his hand fell and the sound of
breaking glass was heard. He was drunk!
Lovelight didn't know that at the time, she only knew her
best friend had been in a terrible accident. She rushed to the SUV, and saw
Stephanie and her Mom hanging upside down from the front seat of the overturned
front half of the SUV. The Mom's head was turned to a harsh angle, her eyes
wide open, seeing nothing.
Stephanie was alive, but sobbing, blood leaking from her
forehead.
"Oh my God! Stephanie!" Lovelight uttered, and
then turned to some of the men watching. "Someone help them! Please!"
Two men, shaken from their shock, rushed forward and
released the Mom and Stephanie, laying the Mom flat on the pavement, but
Stephanie, taking her to the grassy knoll on the side of the road and laying
her on some coats that had been quickly donated for that use by some
bystanders. Lovelight gave them all looks of gratitude, and then sat beside
Stephanie, holding her right hand. There was a pulse, but a weak one.
"God help her!" She whispered to the air.
Stephanie's eyes fluttered and she opened them to see
Lovelight.
"Mom?"
"Don't talk, Steph. Medics are on the way."
"What...wha...what happened?"
The drunk, suddenly realizing he had killed someone, then
noticed the angry glances of the crowd. He began to totter away. Several women
went after him with their handbags. He swatted at them, but a larger one
hammered him hard enough to slam him to the ground, then two of them sat on
him.
Several men came up and joined them.
"Mom?"
Stephanie looked into Lovelight's face and saw the tears and
the lack of an answer."
Stephanie jerked herself upright, then screamed from the
pain and fell back down. Lovelight put Stephanie's head on her lap and stroked
her face as she began to weep horribly. "Mom. Mom! She cried with all the
yearning of a child who has lost someone dear to them. "Mom!"
Lovelight looked back at the dead Mom, then her eyes
widened. A man was standing there next to her. He got to his knees and placed
his palms over her chest. As he did so, her body became wrapped in a beautiful
golden light with bursts of green about it, and then the Mom sat up, except
that she didn't really. Her physical body was still lying on the ground. The
Mom looked frightened a moment, until the Man gave her a hand and helped her to
her feet. She suddenly looked calm and peaceful. She looked around and spotted
Lovelight and her daughter.
The man let go of her hand and she ran over to Stephanie and
put her hands on her daughter's head, trying to comfort her, but they passed
through her. She saw that Lovelight could see her and gave her a pleading look,
not saying a word. "She's going to be all right." Lovelight told her,
believing every word of it.
The man came over and reached down to help the Mom stand
again. She was weeping now. He shook his head gently, and then nodded his head
to the left. The Mom looked and a tunnel of white light was opening up. She
looked frightened a moment, then as the man started to lead her away towards
the tunnel, she looked back to Lovelight.
"I won't let her be alone." Lovelight promised.
"I swear it." She told the woman.
The mom gave Lovelight the most beautiful smile she'd ever
seen and the man looked at her with a smile filled with a bright light. For a
brief moment his form wavered and she saw someone she had only seen before in
movies and churches. He saw her recognition and smiled again, and then led
Stephanie's mom into the tunnel of white light.
Stephanie, at that moment, stopped crying. Lovelight helped
her sit up and pointed. Stephanie looked and then began to cry again as she saw
her mom turn around and blow her a kiss and smile, then go into the white light
and vanish.
When it was over, Stephanie turned to Lovelight. "I
just saw an angel."
"I know." Lovelight said, then pulled Stephanie to
her and shared her tears of joy and her tears of loss. And that was the
beginning of many years of friendship.
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