Death of a TA by Parker Briggsmore

Here's a present for the weekend: a post by Parker from the archives of 2001. Enjoy! -KV

DEATH OF A T.A.
PART ONE

To tell the whole of this story would require, in my own opinion at least, an article that is unacceptably long. Despite that apprehension, I have been persuaded by outside sources to relate the occurrence in its entirety.

For all this story's magnitude and scope it began with a simple question asked in a simple manner.

What are you doing tonight?

Wednesday night. On my scholastic calendar, Wednesday night is a relatively calm and short evening. I say calm in that it is my night off from work (academic and vocational) and I say short because I have an eight o'clock class the following morning.

Normally this would not be a deterrent to an accomplished slacker such as myself but this particular class is a lab, in which, I must stay awake for at least three hours to function. Now while sleeping in lab is a little more serious a violation, I still would not be so concerned with my performance if it were not for the fact that if you miss a lab you must make it up that week or you fail the class. This stipulation, compounded with the fact that this class is integral to me going to graduate school next year and not spending a year just bumming around, results in generally calm and short Wednesday nights. Enter my roommate.

I have the rare pleasure of having a good roommate. He is considerate and respectful and since those are the main qualities you look for in a roommate, I have lived with him for several years. This means that, while I may talk disparagingly about him at times, if it ever really came down to a serious matter I would be there for him.

That being said, there are several minor bad qualities about him. While a few pages could be devoted to that subject alone I shall focus (in this article at least) on his uncanny ability to convince me to go against my better judgment. This power he has is exponentially increased when another one of my friends, who shall remain nameless, is in attendance. When these two people are combined in their will to drive me off my academic pilgrimage, I truly believe that my best bet is to pull the mule cart off to the side and start drinking the sacramental wine.

I try my best to avoid this conniving pair on Wednesday night as often as possible, but even the most determined of hermits must eventually leave his burrow for food. Opening the door of my apartment room to 40oz of Old English and The Karate Kid on DVD at midnight meant I never stood a chance. I was fucked, I knew it, and I couldn't do thing about it.

"What are you doing tonight?" the deadly duo asked in a smug voice knowing damn well what I was going to be doing that night. I was going to be watching half drunk The Karate Kid in all its digitally re-mastered glory. And so, my well-intentioned plan of a responsible night went hurtling out the window. Too many repeats of the Tri-Valley Karate Championship will extend The Karate Kid running time to miniseries proportions and my short Wednesday night suddenly became three hours longer than I wanted it to be.

7:00 am, half asleep, in a warm bed, on a cold morning, on three hours of sleep is a bad time to make decisions concerning your academic career. I repeat, a bad time.

Needless to say, I missed my lab that morning. My alarm clock's insistent beeping came and went like a ghost in the night, which is to say, completely unnoticed. I did wake up at 7:00 o'clock that Thursday morning. I clearly remember the coldness of the air biting at my cheeks, the sound of the rain softly falling outside my window and, most of all, the warmth of my blanket. Whether it was some subconscious survival mechanism or a higher being trying to help me out I don't know, but the fact is, I do remember being up at 7:00 in the morning.

This is puzzling because my alarm is set for 7:10. Given this spontaneous gift of wakefulness you would think I would seize the moment, get out of bed and go to school. No dice. "I'll just make up the lab." I thought, as I promptly became reacquainted with the dream world, in which, I was being carried off the mat victorious with Mr. Miyagi smiling knowingly in the background.

Four hours later, the sleeping giant awoke. I scratched myself contentedly at the previous nights adventures. Amidst my habitual morning scratch, I slowly began to realize that I had missed my lab. Bad form to say the least but I assured myself that as long as I made up the lab in another section by the end of the week I was ok.

Thirty minutes and a SportsCenter later I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower. While I was in the shower an alarming thought came to me, "What if there were no Friday labs scheduled?" I resolved to get online and check the schedule of classes to find out. I got out of the shower at around noon and made my way to the computer only to be reminded by a grumbling stomach that it was lunchtime. I just woke up too. That means it's breakfast and lunchtime, excellent. Hmm…coco puffs, any milk? Nice. Oh, that frozen pizza pocket sounds tasty right now as well, lets have that too. Two Nutri-grain bars to balance out the meal health wise and I was set.

An hour later, finally satiated, I trundled over to the computer and promptly checked out the scores of my favorite sports teams until I remembered what I had got online for in the first place. That's right, check to see if there are any Friday labs I could make it up in. Hmm, where would that information be? I'm sure there must be at least a couple of Friday labs, hope it isn't an 8:00 lab, don't want to get up that early, if its at 12:00 I could play basketball in the morning, here we go the schedule of lab times………Oh…FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!

Oh Fuck

There were no Friday labs. It was like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on my head. My lazy little morning/afternoon suddenly became the most wasted and regretted moments of my life. The last lab scheduled was Thursday at 12:30; it was now 1:45 pm.

I sprang into motion, wasting time in my anxiety. The simple acts of putting on my shirt and brushing my teeth became impossibly difficult in my attempts to accomplish them at the same time. Fingers numb with shock struggled with zippers, fumbled with buttons, and pulled at laces. Despite this I was out of my apartment and driving to school in less than five minutes.

During the 10 minute drive to school, no longer able to deny the thought process with hurried motion, my mind began to realize what was happening and the consequences therein. As each thought process began to slowly register I became more and more unstable. Luckily the self defense mechanism of denial kicked in. I began to concoct wild scenarios in which this was not happening. Perhaps I had read the schedule of classes wrong, perhaps I was not remembering the policy of the class correctly, maybe this week was the week we had no lab, maybe the lab got cancelled, maybe…aww who the fuck am I kidding?! I got to get my fucking ass to class!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Will our hero reach his class on time? Will he miss it and fail? is anyone still reading this? Anyone? hello? Answer me damnit! Why wont you answer? To find out the answers to these questions and more, tune in for the next installment of DEATH OF A TA, same bat-time, same bat-channel!

-Parker Briggsmore, 2001

[Unfortunately Parker never completed the next and final installment of DEATH. However, he and Klaus DID manage to pound out a script for a short film. When that film is shot, it will appear on The Brothel. And then you will finally know how this all ends. I know, the suspense. Seriously. -KV]

10 Things Guys REALLY Want for Christmas

This is more like a Maxim article than a Brothel piece. Hey, we're branching out... Or are we? -KV

Ten Things Guys REALLY Want for X-mas
Klaus Varley

Though most guys will deny it to their girls from here to eternity, below are ten things most men (except your man, of course) would seriously love to get in their stockings.

10. XBOX 360 All the other guys have it. Hey, we can get Rock Band honey, and you can play drums.

9. Motorcycle Any kind will do.

8. 58-inch Plasma HDTV Don't care if it's plasma, rear-projection or made of chipmunks, as long as it works.

7. Rio Brands Foldaway Octagon Poker Table Not to be too specific, but baby, it's only a hundred bucks.

6. Punching Bag and Gloves We like to hit things. I don't know why.

5. Dog Guys love dogs. Except for me; I'm allergic. Seriously (pathetic).

4. Electric Guitar Every guy wants to be a rock star. The more he denies it, the more you'll know it's true.

3. An original Optimus Prime in Shrink Wrap This is only for certain guys. Some people call them nerds. We call them Parker Briggsmore.

2. Stand-up Arcade Game to Put Next to the new Pool Table This is more like two gifts - two GREAT gifts.

1. Angelina Jolie Except for me; I'm allergic. Seriously.


-KV

Conversation Between the Brothel Founders Over Spiderman and Other Pressing Issues

Circa 2002, a year or two into the life of the Brothel, Parker (cookieronsta_01) and Klaus (octoon101) had a long-distance conversation via AIM, discussing such grandiloquent fare as Javascript, Les Miserables, and of course, Spiderman. -KV

Original Intro: A conversation between two feuding souls. This one coming after a fierce IM warning battle in a post-Spiderman era...

...
cookieronsta_01: no more!
octoon101: my finger is on the warn button. Stop.
cookieronsta_01: well ease up tiger I have some good news
octoon101: me = intrigued
cookieronsta_01: my job is requiring that I learn how to program java for web pages and how to write scripts for dynamic flashing integrated thingamjiggies
octoon101: for use on the brothel?
octoon101: how did they know about The Literery Brothel - "Where Great Minds are Coming.."?
cookieronsta_01: you stupid beast, for one of my job programs
cookieronsta_01: but this will help the brothel in the long run
octoon101: i get it
cookieronsta_01: stupid beast
cookieronsta_01: you like that one?
octoon101: tu tiene mucho tiempo en la interneta
cookieronsta_01: si, pero cuando tu hables el significo es el pot dime el kettle "tu es negro!"
octoon101: como?
cookieronsta_01: exactamente
cookieronsta_01: mi pones mis zapatos en tu ano
octoon101: ok ok
cookieronsta_01: DONT TRY TO APPEASE ME WITH YOUR BULLSHIT CONDESCENSION!!!!!

octoon101: Ok. One question though: who am I?
cookieronsta_01: huh?
octoon101: I'm Jean Valjean!
cookieronsta_01: and I'm Javert!
cookieronsta_01: you made me laugh out lound in a quiet ass building
cookieronsta_01: I'm a super spy!
octoon101: "Do not forget me......Do not forget my name!!!"
cookieronsta_01: 2460 one!!!!!1
octoon101: JAVA is some funny shit.. tell them that
octoon101: dude, that's going to be my licenceplate
octoon101: with a heart
octoon101: and a handprint
cookieronsta_01: java is some funny shit is too many words unlike my original idea of putting 24601 one a liscense platye
cookieronsta_01: dont copy my idea tho
octoon101: 24601 is mine!
octoon101: i'll give you 24602
octoon101: or 2460ONE
cookieronsta_01: I'll take 2460one!
cookieronsta_01: me think faster
octoon101: me write faster
cookieronsta_01: with less gramma

octoon101: if we had a radio show we'd have to sensor it. and have an intern.
cookieronsta_01: no just you and me do a radio show
octoon101: "you bleep out the bad words"
octoon101: "motherfuckin' intern bitch"
octoon101: how many bad words there?
octoon101: yeah, we can pull some local shit when you move back to the motown
cookieronsta_01: feedback = "um yeah...your show is 60% bleeps..yeah"
cookieronsta_01: in seven years
cookieronsta_01: do radio show?
cookieronsta_01: lose edge!
cookieronsta_01: not poor anger like now
cookieronsta_01: NEED POOR ANGER!!!
cookieronsta_01: I PEE EVERYWHERE!!!!!!
...
cookieronsta_01: bring me the head of spiderman!
octoon101: your warning level has gone down a percentage!
octoon101: but mine remains the same :-(
cookieronsta_01: me nice guy!
cookieronsta_01: you dirty injun
octoon101: "Spiderman will pay for what he did."
cookieronsta_01: help me peter...
octoon101: "Pay with his sticky testicles." -Line cut from the movie. Writer's argument: He's a spider! That's where his web comes from.
cookieronsta_01: How about we just cut the scene one line before, then we wont lost that population who doesn't want to hear about sticky testicles? Sound good?
octoon101: but..but.. gosh darn it, you don't like anything i write.. (pouting)
cookieronsta_01: hey I went to the wall for you in the whole silky nuts debacle but I cant put my neck out there anymore
cookieronsta_01: what about at the end as tobey's walking away we have him yell out.."GOBLIN this is all you fault you CUM DUMPSTER!!!!"
octoon101: "Uh, look. This is a family movie, and we just can't have the word cum in there."
octoon101: "what about 'come to papa!!!"
octoon101: "No."
octoon101: "Come on Eileen?"
octoon101: "how did you become a writer?"
cookieronsta_01: what about instead of "Spiderman I will annally rape and then destroy you!" He just say's “I will destroy you,” how much of the story are we losing if we just go with that?
cookieronsta_01: like 30 minutes!
octoon101: "Do you want to be true to the fans, or not Raimi?"
cookieronsta_01: ok so the rape stays, but then we have to cut out the 2nd fight scene!"

octoon101: get ready...
cookieronsta_01: your warning fell
cookieronsta_01: let me put it back up there for you

Lost Chances - by Parker Briggsmore

Here's a poem from Parker. We're pretty sure he wrote it BEFORE the Brothel came about, and then submitted it to the site, but whatever. We don't care. If you like poems, you might like it. -KV

LOST CHANCES

Parker Briggsmore

Lost chances

Shifting stances,

Half spoken words remaining prolonged glances

Moments,

like sliding doors,

derailing romances,

when they pass,

With quickly spoken nonsense

into the past,

and do not fade,

rather, last and linger.

Strings on the finger that tap my brain at night

As I stay awake and contemplate

Failures to communicate

feelings that dominate

the Universe that exists in the cell of my soul grown cold

in the absence of the rise of its moon,

and too soon

the scenario threatens to repeat again,

and again

and again,

but...

this time…

from my lowered heights,

I do ascend.

Rising past walls built up to defend

with love in my heart

to mend

a wound in my soul,

taking control of what fate has foretold,

me and you together,

forever,

growing old,

two fragments finally whole.

And in this script,

I gladly play my role

So I take my chance…

Offering half a smile and a prolonged glance

giving you everything for a little romance.

and as I look into your eyes and you look back

risking the present to banish the past,

I know,

that all the words of love that were never said,

will be spoken at last.

-PB

The Literary Brothel is Alive!

The Literary Brothel (www.literarybrothel.com) has finally gone down. This site is its replacement.

What is The Literary Brothel? Some call it a creative writing website started in 2001 by Parker Briggsmore and Klaus Varley. Parker and Klaus call it "a place to whore out the deepest and most intimate details of our lives in exchange for a little bit of internet fame." Others have used such language as "good for procrastination," or "not for me." All are correct.

Why did www.literarybrothel.com go down? The domain was lost due many complicated factors that cannot be easily summed up in one blog entry. That is, unless you say, "we were too cheap to renew it." Got 30 bucks a year? Neither do we. (Wait, did you say yes? Where were you??)

Anyway, this FREE site is where The Literary Brothel will been resurrected. Within the upcoming days, weeks, months, and (hopefully not) years, we will add the content that you so sorely miss from the old site, and perhaps even have "fresh" stuff as well.* By February of 2011, The Literary Brothel will appear in book form. If you are reading this, you are eligible for a free copy. No strings attached.**

So, welcome back, and stay tuned. We update every Tuesday and Thursday.

Seriously.

-Klaus Varley

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* Please send us your stuff so we don't have to write - literarybrothel@gmail.com - Thanks!

** Unless the book itself comes with strings, for some reason.