Clara Was Watson’s Sister-In-Law

There are no coincidences, especially in the writing of Steven Moffatt and Mark Gatiss respectively. Re-watching A Study in Scarlet the other night, it all came to me. Doctor Who take place in the same universe and Clara is my proof.

We now know that it was Clara’s TARDIS parked in Utah when the Doctor met up with Amy, Rory, and River beside the lake in Valley of the Gods.

We also know that Clara is openly bi-sexual (Go ahead, try and deny it, faithful reader. I’m waiting) and that it wouldn’t be such a big deal if she ran into a woman she really liked in London around 2010. Perhaps her TARDIS was following the Doctor’s TARDIS and brought Clara there against her intentions as TARDISes are won’t to do.

So Clara has a brief relationship with a certain Harriet Watson. She even meets John at some point but Harriet’s drinking makes anything long term too dicey.  And contrary to Sherlock’s assumption, Clara is the one who leaves first and Harriet gives her mobile phone to John.

Okay, I had to alter a detail to fit my theory but oh well, such is the nature of speculation.

Two Cars, One Night ~ Short Film

A short sweet film taking place in the car park of a bar. What are the kids doing in the car alone? What are the parents doing in the bar? Doesn’t matter because the majority of this story takes place between one of the boys in one car and the lonely teenage girl in the next car.

If you’re looking for a film that blows the Bechdel Test out of the water, this may not be the one for you. On the other hand it is from one of the creative geniuses behind What We Do in the Shadows and it is a testament to his ability to get a good performance out of kids, which isn’t as easy to do as some aspiring filmmakers might think.

Growing up, I remember many encounters with other children that only lasted a few moments and had more meaning than some of my longer lasting relationships. This film reminded me of those encounters and made me long for those moments again.

You can probably watch the film on demand or on Youtube but I’m going to post a link to the film’s website on the off chance that you want to show some support to the artist and crew behind the camera.

Two Cars, One Night

Spreading the Love

Copied and pasted from The Hunted: Encore Facebook page.

Our pilot episode, “This Sucks” has been accepted into the FirstGlance Film Festivals (Hollywood, Philadelphia)‘s Online Short Contest, and we need your help to win the grand prize of $2000 and a screening at FirstGlance Philadelphia!

Here’s how it works:
– Go to http://bit.ly/FirstGlanceFilmContest
– Register for a free account
– Watch our episode “This Sucks” until the VOTE button appears (basically after the first song, “Look Alive”)
– Click Vote!
– Tell all your friends using our hashtag #HereComeTheVampires
– Vote again tomorrow! (You can vote once every 24 hours for the next month)

Thanks for supporting our show, we’re hard at work on pre-production for season 2!

Watch it cause you love it but more to the point, watch it cause you want to see more and vote on it. Because that $2000 guarantees brilliant music, acting, fighting, and more.  And all you have to do is register for a free account, watch the video, and vote once every 24 hours.

This may also make up for the time I nearly got Ned and a whole bunch other of slayers arrested in Salem…

Dusty Springfield’s Mouse Died

For those who don’t know (IE, most of you) Dusty Sprignfield is what I call my trusty old Compaq Presario, purchased second hand about six years ago. It’s the one purchase I have never regretted in my life and she’s as enduring and reliable as the singer for whom she was named.

The other day, I accidentally knocked over the mouse. Thanks to John, I now have a new mouse that works just as well, which I have named Neil Tenant after one half of the Pet Shop Boys. This name was given in respect to the Pet Shop Boys video and single that features Dusty Springfield: What Have I Done To Deserve This.

If It’s Something I’ll Need Help With…

Too often I’ll shy away from anything wherein I will need the help of another to complete. This is not a new thing but the result of many failed attempts at getting other people aboard on any project that would be impossible to do on my own.

So I adopted a policy that goes along the lines of: If it’s something I can’t do one hundred percent on my own it’s not worth doing.

Where that logic is especially painful is when the idea of getting a membership at Salem Public Access is presented. The membership is relatively cheaper than what it cost just to update the membership for this blog.

In a year’s time I have no doubt I would have put that membership to good use. The training process involves working with other people closely. But people aren’t always so patient with someone who needs things explained to them a certain way. They think that if you can’t learn something fast enough to be an expert on it then you aren’t worth their time.

These aren’t baseless assumptions. I have experienced this way too often in my life. Why should I imagine it will be different this time around? Why do I have to stick my hand into fire just to prove that fire plus skin equals bad?

And yet I’m plagued with the idea that putting the time and effort into this may lead to something productive if not totally rewarding. I mean, only the people who can watch Salem Public Access will be able to see what I produce, unless I can post everything on Youtube. But I’m not allowed to profit from anything I produce with Salem Public Access’s help, so there’s the rock. The beginning of this paragraph is the hard place.

I wish this dilemma on no one.

I’m Now On Booksie

In an effort to reach more readers, I’m posting some of my short short fiction on this site here:

Bookise

I reserve the right to collect all of those stories and put them in another anthology and beg you, faithful reader, to pay me money for those stories. In the meantime, enjoy them while they’re free.

Thank you.

 

The Skeptic Party ~ By Nathanielle Sean Crawford

This story is at best an affectionate parody and at worst, a sweeping commentary about how even someone who speaks the truth may lead innocent people to ruin. The name is a very obvious nod towards a famous psychic investigator and if he should read this, I hope he does not take offense to this story as it is a work of fiction based on a clip I saw of him that led to a “What If” question.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two couples, a few students, and some lonely individuals looking for something unique and exciting. Not a bad evening all together but a larger turnout would have been nice. Skeptic parties were the new thing but they were slow in rising.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” the MC said into the microphone. “It’s a cozy crowd tonight, so could I ask you all to move to the front of the room? Thank you. Tonight we’re about to watch as a professional skeptic and paranormal investigator blows the lid off some common myths and legends, including some very down to earth concepts that most of us have been in the dark about our entire lives. He’s new to the field but he had his first major appearance on television and we’re just so happy to have him here. Please welcome Mr. Hamish Andes.”

Applause was light, non-committal. Hamish came into the room and shook hands with the MC. He took the microphone and he placed a large grocery bag on an empty table.

“If you’re here to talk to your loved ones who are no longer with us I have some terrible news: They’re dead.”

Chuckles. One of the men forced a laugh.

“Okay, I’m going to hand out some props. Coming out here with the props, watch out.”

He reached into the bag and pulled out a small white bottle covered with a piece of paper. He handed this to the first guest and pulled out another. Then another. Then another. There were enough bottles to go around. He playfully suggested to the couples sitting together that they might want to “swap”, eliciting a few stronger laughs.

They were warming up to him, this crowd.

When he returned to the table, he pulled out another small white bottle without a piece of paper covering the label. It read:

Sunny Day’s Well-Being Pills

“The homeopathic medicine industry makes more than a billion dollars each year,” Hamish explained. “Last year, you could have fed a third world nation for a decade, with money left over to build and fund schools, an irrigation system, and a hospital for that amount of time. For that amount of money, you could cure actual illnesses and give vaccinations to children who would otherwise die of diseases that you or I have not been in danger of contracting for over a century.”

The crowd listened intently as he rattled off statistics and the names of professionals in the field who corroborated his claims. Then he instructed everyone to remove the pieces of paper from their bottles, which turned out to be the same homeopathic drug that he was holding.

Thirty tablets in each bottle.

“It says to take one a day,” Hamish read from the label. “Take one pill a day for a better, healthier lifestyle. Well, here goes.”

Hamish pulled a bottle of water out of the plastic bag and placed the microphone on the table long enough to open the pills. He took out the cotton and tossed it aside. Then he took out one pill and popped it in his mouth, following it with a drink of water. Then he watched the audience, who leaned in and watched with a wild-eyed curiosity that was absent at the beginning. Many of them knew he was about to do something that would blow their minds but they watched, fully prepared to be amazed. He took the bottle and tapped more of the pills into his mouth. He drank some more water then tapped more pills. It took four taps but he finally swallowed all of the Sunny Day Well-Being Pills.

Then he looked at his audience and smiled his cake eating grin. They clapped and laughed as if he had just pulled a tiger out of the hat.

“Whatever medicinal value this pill might have had, it’s been so diluted and filled with useless crap, that it couldn’t cure boredom. Ms. Cannon, some bottles of water for our lovely audience, if you please.”

The MC wheeled a tray with a bowl filled with ice and bottled water. The audience each accepted a bottle as Hamish encouraged them to swallow the pills he just ingested. Two of the students who were there to knock off a requirement for class opted out. An old lady refused to participate and left the room.

The remaining seven all swallowed their bottles of homeopathic “well-being” medicine. To show off their machismo, the couples took the remaining bottles and swallowed them without any discouragement from Hamish Andes, the professional skeptic.

#    #    #

“Four men and three women were found dead late last week. All apparently healthy, except for two smokers and a diabetic among them, the autopsy showed traces of a slow acting poison that was introduced to their systems within a few hours of their deaths. Three victims had a significantly higher amount of the poison in their own systems, which might have had something to do with a traffic accident that also claimed the life of a jogger in the Common. Detectives later made the connection between the victims and a special event taking place in a house rented out to a shell company…”