Carl Alves's Blog, page 36
August 12, 2015
Pounds Off by Carl Alves
This is my short story "Pounds Off" which originally appeared in Scorched Wings.
Wayne Helms looked at himself in the mirror and was disgusted with what he saw. He was eighty, no ninety pounds overweight. He had been fat for most of his life. His lean period was between ages ten and twelve, but that ended after he stopped getting taller. He wanted to do something about his weight, but he never had the will power to diet. He tried working out—once. It was not for him.
He had to do something. That morning on the way to work he heard a commercial that he knew would change his life. Pounds Off. It was such an inviting name. They absolutely guaranteed you would lose your desired weight if you followed their program, or they would give a full refund. “If you are frustrated with other diet programs, then it’s time you call us and take those pounds off.” Wayne scrambled to find a pen and paper, and wrote down the phone number.
Wayne called the number after devouring an Italian hoagie during his lunch break.
The receptionist had a perky voice. “When would you like to make an appointment to meet a weight-loss consultant? I would urge you to make it as soon as possible.”
This program was probably in high demand. Wayne looked at his appointment calendar. “I have almost an hour after I finish work today before I have to take my son for his dentist appointment.”
He could almost feel the receptionist’s bright smile through the phone. “That will leave you enough time.”
He had a hard time concentrating at work, thinking about the promises Pounds Off made. This program was going to work. He could feel it. Maybe after dropping the pounds, his wife would be attracted to him again. God knows she hadn’t been lately.
In his job as a computer analyst for an insurance company, Wayne had little physica, sitting in front of a computer all day long. In addition to the healthy lunch that Sally packed for him, he snacked frequently. Sometimes he would munch on a bag of chips, a large bag not a snack pack. Other times he would eat a hoagie or a cheesesteak or an order of hot wings. He would probably have to stop eating all this junk food once he joined Pounds Off.
As he drove to the Pounds Off campus, he felt trepidation. Would he really be able to go through with this? His will was weak; there was no doubt about that, but he was out of options. If not for the kids, his wife Sally would have left him by now.
Wayne pulled into the parking lot. The building looked too cheerful with its bright blue and green colors. But he had gone this far, and wasn’t about to turn back now.
His trepidation increased exponentially as he walked into the building. Smiling faces and physically fit people blinded him.
A cheery young woman wearing a denim shirt and short skirt greeted him. “Hi. I’m Michelle Billick. You must by Wayne Helms.” She extended her hand.
He frowned. “How do you know my name?”
Michelle’s smile never wavered. “I could tell by your voice. We spoke earlier.”
“Oh.”
“Welcome to Pounds Off. Let me tell you, Mr. Helms, you are making the best decision of your life by going on the Pounds Off plan.”
Wayne put his right hand up. “Hey, I haven’t signed up for anything, yet.”
“You will. After you hear what we have to offer, I’m sure you will join. We’re like a family here. I was once a customer just like you.” Michelle reached into her purse and pulled out a picture. “This is what I looked like before Pounds Off.”
“Hmm,” Wayne said. “That’s impressive.”
“And we can do the same for you. Now if you follow me, I’ll introduce you to one of our lifestyle consultants.”
The facility was lavishly decorated. Paintings and sculptures, all bright and full of life adorned the hallways. Breakout rooms lined the hallway. Each had a desk, a table, and a physician’s weight scale. Some rooms had tread mills linked to monitoring equipment. They passed by a large room with glass windows. Inside people were working out in a professional looking gym filled with treadmills, rowing machines, exercise bikes, stair climbers and weight lifting equipment.
He followed Michelle past the gym through a long hallway and then turned right. There were more breakout rooms. She led Wayne to one at the far end of the building. Inside was a man wearing a pin stripe shirt and a red tie.
“Mr. Helms, this is your lifestyle coordinator Tom Baxter.”
“Hello, Mr. Helms. I’m glad that you’ll be joining the Pounds Off family.”
“Wow, you guys are awfully presumptuous,” said Wayne.
“Not presumptuous. Just confident. You see, at Pounds Off we offer what others can’t. We deliver results, guaranteed. Knowing that, why would you not want to join?”
Wayne’s eyes narrowed.
“Let’s commence,” Baxter said.
Michelle Billick said goodbye. Wayne smiled as she walked away, imagining what was underneath her short skirt.
As if reading his mind, Baxter said, “That is what Pounds Off is capable of doing. Now Wayne, I would like you to remove your shoes and step on the scale.”
Wayne was stunned when the scale read two hundred sixty five pounds. He scratched his head. “Damn. I didn’t think I was that heavy.”
“What would you say is your ideal weight, Mr. Helms?”
Wayne stepped off of the scale, looking down at the floor. He shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. What would you say?”
“I would suggest one hundred seventy pounds. Now that number could vary depending upon how much muscle mass you gain.”
“Muscle mass?” Wayne laughed. “I don’t think I have any.”
“Perhaps not now, but under our plan you will, if you so desire.”
“You think so?”
“Sure. Many of our clients start off with physiques similar to yours, but wind up with a well-chiseled frame.”
Wayne smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Then, that is the type of plan we will gear you towards. “Take me through what you would eat during a typical day.”
Wayne did not see the point of lying if he was going to make this plan work. “Well, I usually start off with coffee and donuts unless I can coax my wife, Sally, into making bacon and scrambled eggs. Sally usually packs me a sandwich, but I get so hungry at work that I’ll usually eat a cheesesteak, or a hamburgers or maybe even pizza.”
Baxter frowned.
“Dinner’s the big meal. Sally’s a great cook. The food’s so good I usually help my self to seconds and thirds.
“Is that it?” Baxter asked.
“Well, sometimes I’ll eat a candy bar or a bag of chips to get me through the day. Cheetos are the best.
“Mr. Helms, that will have to change. We have a strict diet regimen consisting of lean foods that you will have to follow religiously. There will be no snacking. “
Wayne grimaced as if he were being whipped. This was worse than he thought. He loved eating junk food.
“We’ll start you off on a diet plan on your next visit. An important component of the plan is exercise. In order to enroll you have to maintain a regimented exercise program. Do you currently own exercise equipment?”
“No,” Wayne replied.
“Are you a member of a gym?”
“No.”
“We have several options for individuals in your situation,” Baxter said in a businesslike tone. “You must either own your own equipment or have a membership at a gym. We sell equipment at wholesale cost. We also have our own gym at this facility, which you probably noticed on the way here.”
“Yes, I saw it. It’s pretty impressive. But look, I really don’t like working out.”
“You’ll learn to like it. Many members of the Pounds Off family had similar feelings when they first started, but exercise becomes a part of their life blood. Your attitude will change after you join. Follow me. I’ll give you a tour.”
Wayne followed Baxter. People sweated profusely on the elliptical trainers and grunting with effort as they pumped iron. Could that really be him? Baxter seemed so confident. His wife would be impressed if they could get him to work out, something she never could do.
When they returned to the breakout room, Wayne knew he had to leave soon, but didn’t want to leave until he made a decision.
As if he could sense Wayne’s consternation, Baxter produced a series of documents. “This is the contract that we make all of our customers sign when they join. I will be right up front with you. Our program is the most expensive in the market. But we offer what no other company can offer, and that is guaranteed results. We charge forty dollars for each pound you drop. There is also a four hundred dollar, one time administrative fee. But we offer a very hands on approach that no one else can match. If you would like to join our gym, the cost is fifty dollars a month. Most participants go for this option because besides our state of the art equipment, they also enjoy the camaraderie of working out in our facility. Pounds Off is a family and emotional support will help you achieve your weight loss goals. I’m not going to lie to you, the process is difficult. But we only produce satisfied customers. We have meetings twice a week. One is a group session where you can share your experiences. The other is one on one with me. At this meeting, we will weigh you, and evaluate your progress.”
“Wow, that is kind of steep,” Wayne said.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to think about it.” Baxter left the room.
Wayne skimmed the contract. Forty dollars per pound was a lot, but if they could do what they claimed, then it would be worth it. Even the new wardrobe he would have to buy would be worth it. He wanted to be close to his wife again. He wanted to be able to play with his children for more than a couple of minutes before getting tired.
Baxter walked into the room. “So, Mr. Helms, have you made your decision?”
“Yes, I’m going for it.”
“This is the best decision you have ever made.”
Baxter produced a pen and Wayne signed the documents. He left feeling better about himself than he had in quite some time.
***
Wayne had always been overweight, but in college he had put on significant weight as a result of late night snacking. It was all those late night pizza runs that did him in.
In his senior year of college, he met Sally. She was a pleasant enough looking woman with no distinguishing features. She was, however, considerably slimmer than him, exercising and dieting regularly. Despite her efforts, it never rubbed off on him.
Wayne never seriously thought about reducing his waistline until one evening when he came on to his wife. He made numerous attempts to be amorous, but she rejected him. When he asked her what was wrong, she told him she still loved him, but was no longer attracted to him.
Those words crushed him. He tried numerous diet plans, but always returned to his original weight. He had occasional success, losing a few pounds here and there, but he invariably put them back on. He tried all of the major weight-loss programs, the Atkins diet, and numerous crash diets, but they did not work for one reason: he lacked will power. After not having sex with his wife for six months, Wayne had become desperate.
“Can you believe this?” Wayne showed his wife how his old pants were now too big. After one month, he dropped twenty-five pounds, and two inches on his waist line.
Sally smiled and kissed her husband on the cheek
“This Pounds Off things is awesome. I can’t believe how much weight I’ve already lost. I’m ahead of schedule, you know.”
Sally gave him a big smile. “I have to say, I had my doubts when you first started. I thought this was going to be like all the other diets you tried in the past. You would lose a couple pounds and put them right back on. But I’m starting to believe in this one.”
“And the Pounds Off people are great. They’ve been nothing but supportive.”
Sally hugged and kissed him. “I have an idea, Wayne. Why don’t we go shopping for some new clothes?”
“New clothes, hmm? Don’t you think that might be too soon?”
“You have to be confident. It’ll work this time.”
Wayne tilted his head. “I could probably use a few pairs of pants for work. Maybe I’ll buy some jeans as well.”
Wayne and Sally went to the mall that afternoon. He bought a pair of Tommy Hilfiger pants that he would not have been able to fit into since he had been in college. He had been getting compliments at work. He felt better about himself, but he was still overweight, and had a long road ahead of him.
***
Three weeks later, Wayne had been on edge all day at work. Today he was going to be officially weighed at Pounds Off. They were adamant that weight targets had to be met at each weigh-in. And there was no way he was going to meet this one.
The first month had been easy. He had so much excess weight, and he had been energized by the Pounds Off people. He joined the Pounds Off gym and actually worked out regularly. The first time he was on a stair climber, he had to stop after five minutes. He felt like he was going to die. Tom Baxter walked into the gym, sat Wayne down and gave him a pep talk. Wayne did another fifteen minutes on the stair climber with Baxter at his side giving him words of encouragement.
With his wife’s help, he stuck to his diet. But the second month proved to be more difficult. His lack of will power crept up on him. He was hungry all the time and snacked at work. He made excuses to leave the house so he could go to a convenience store and grab a candy bar or a bag of Combos. In the past three weeks, he lost two pounds. He lied to his wife about his progress, while she continued to encourage him.
Wayne snapped at his co-workers. Normally he joked around at work, but today his tension was palpable. The department secretary asked if something was bothering him, but he rudely blew her off.
He considered not showing up at Pounds Off weigh-in. He did not want to disappoint them, but what were they going to do, yell at him? He was the one paying for the program. Sure, they might be annoyed since he was paying by the pound, and they would make less money off of him, but they guaranteed results and it wasn’t happening.
When he arrived at the facility, Michelle the receptionist greeted him with her perky smile. “Please wait. Mr. Baxter will be here soon.
Wayne’s stomach was undergoing a revolution while he waited.
Baxter shook his hand. “How are you doing, Wayne?”
“Uh, I’m feeling sick.” Maybe feigning illness keep him from getting on the scale.
“Sorry to hear that. Maybe you should rest when you go home.” Baxter flipped Wayne’s chart. “Okay, Wayne, after week seven your targeted weight is two hundred thirty two pounds. So far you’ve met all your targets. Please step on the scale.”
He didn’t move from his chair.
“Is there a problem?”
“Um, no.” Wayne took off his shoes and was about to step on the scale when it occurred to him that if he took off his shirt and socks, he would weigh less. It probably wouldn’t get him to his target, but it was worth a try.
Wayne stepped on the scale. Tom moved the fifty pound weight block four times, and set it at two hundred. He then moved the smaller weight. Wayne’s heart raced as it moved up the scale, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty and still going. He gulped when it settled at thirty-six and a half.
“Step down.” Baxter’s voice was icy. “Mr. Helms, I can not express to you how disappointed I am. Four and a half pounds over.” He shook his head. “As per the terms of your contract, we will have to take measures.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“In the contract it clearly states that Pounds Off will take measures to help you lose weight if you do not hit your targets. It is further delineated in the Pounds Off manual.”
Wayne was speechless as Baxter picked up the phone and dialed a number. He didn’t remember reading anything like this in the contract.
In less than a minute, two men that looked like mafia enforcers entered the room.
“Can you please escort Mr. Helms to the containment facility?”
“Yes, sir.” Each man grabbed Wayne’s arms and dragged him out of the room.
Wayne shrieked. “Containment facility? Let me go.”
Baxter trailed them. One of the men opened a door, which led down a long, narrow hallway. Halfway down, he opened another door. Wayne looked in horror at a suite that contained nine feet by twelve feet cells. It looked like a prison.
One of his captors opened a cell door, while the other held his right arm.
Wayne tried to shake himself free. “What are you guys doing?”
They shoved him into the cell and locked the door, before leaving the containment facility.
Baxter’s eyes narrowed. “You will remain in this faculty until you meet your designated weight. During this time you will be given water and minimal provisions. Mr. Helms, we take these weigh-ins very seriously and hope that you will too. Hopefully this will serve as a lesson for you.”
Wayne grabbed the iron bars. “You can’t keep me here. I didn’t break any law. You people are crazy, that’s it.”
Baxter smiled. “I assure you that we are not crazy. And the actions we are taking are completely within our rights.”
“But I have a wife and kids. They’ll worry their heads off when I don’t show up.”
“I’ll contact your wife and explain the situation. I am sure she will understand.”
Wayne took a deep breath, trying not to panic. “What about my work?”
“If you are not prepared to leave by tomorrow, then I will contact them as well. We deal with a variety of employers and they are usually quite understanding.”
Wayne shook his head. “This is nuts.”
“Mr. Helms, it is time to get serious about your diet. If you will not do so on your own, then we will help you. Now, I must be leaving. Good day.”
Wayne shouted for help to no avail. He was completely isolated with no television, radio or anything else to divert his attention. How could he have gotten stuck in this trap. He should have read the fine print.
Fifteen minutes after Baxter left, a soothing, female voice came from the walls. At first he was glad to have this voice keep him company, until he listened to what it was actually saying. The woman’s voice named foods, both brand names and generic categories. For each food item, she stated its calories, fat and cholesterol. The voice went on for hours, driving him nuts. There was no way for him to tune it out.
Hours later, Tom Baxter entered the containment facility. Wayne drank four glasses of water from the water cooler in his cell, but had not eaten anything. It was well past dinner time, and he was famished.
“We have contacted your wife to inform her of the situation.”
“What did Sally say?”
“She seemed distraught, but I’m sure she will understand. Please step on the metal platform at the far left corner of your unit.”
“What’s that?” Wayne asked.
“It’s a scale.”
Wayne stepped on the platform and Baxter read the digital readout at the front of the cell. “Two hundred and thirty four. You are still two pounds over.”
“That’s not bad. Now let me the hell out of here.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that until you’ve reached your target. Good day, Mr. Helms.”
Wayne looked in despair as Baxter walked away. How could they leave him here. It was nine thirty. He was hungry and wanted to see his family.
Shortly after Baxter left, the same female voice returned, giving off the fat content of various food.
Three hours later an unnamed guard walked into his cell with a granola bar.
“Can’t you bring me something else?” Wayne pleaded. “Maybe a sandwich or a slice of pizza.”
“Sorry, sir, these are the rules.”
The guard left and Wayne greedily ate the granola bar as his stomach growled for more food. He couldn’t ever remember being this hungry.
He slept fitfully on the cot, trying to ignore his growling stomach. At three in the morning, he opened his left eye and found a woman with short brown hair and glasses standing outside.
“Good morning, Mr. Helms.”
He grunted.
“Can you please step onto the platform.”
Wayne rose from the cot. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway.” He stepped on the metal scale. His shoulders slumped and his eyes closed. The woman’s voice woke him up.
“It appears that you have reached your target and are free to go.”
“Really? That’s great. Thank God.”
She opened the door and he left the facility as quickly as possible. Fifteen minutes later, he was never so happy to be home.
“Why are you still going through with this?” Sally asked.
Wayne stepped off of the scale in their bathroom. He shrugged. “I didn’t like being put in that jail cell either, but I’m getting results.”
“Yeah, but at what cost?”
Wayne had been following the diet and exercise program religiously since spending the night in the Pounds Off containment facility. The following week, he beat his target by a pound. With five more days until the next weigh-in, he was already fretting over it.
“Well, these people are serious. They demand results. You have to admit that I look a lot better than I have in a long time.”
Sally gave a shy smile. “You do. I just worry about what’s going to happen if you don’t hit their target again.”
“I’m sure that first time was just to scare me. Everything will be fine.”
But on the day of the next checkpoint, Wayne kept his fingers crossed. Two days earlier he was at an office party where he gorged on six slices of pepperoni pizza. Since then he tried to exercise hard and eat little, but the damage had been done.
He jogged during his lunch break, but was so hungry that he couldn’t stop himself from buying a sausage sandwich from a street vendor.
His hands shook when he arrived at Pounds Off. He had to be at two hundred twenty three pounds.
In the training room inside Pounds Off, Tom Baxter told him to step on the scale.
“Shit!” Wayne shouted. The scale balanced at two pounds higher than his target.
Baxter gave him an icy stare. “Mr. Helms, this is a serious violation. I hoped that you would have learned the last time, but unfortunately you continue to be weak. For that, we must discipline you.”
Wayne’s eyes went wide. “Not the containment facility.”
“No. Apparently that doesn’t work with you. We will try something different.”
Wayne gulped.
The same two large men that escorted Wayne previously, appeared. These guys looked serious. Did they ever smile? They led him to a room that had exercise equipment hooked up to so many wires that they looked like spaghetti.
This wasn’t so bad. “You’re going to make me workout?”
“It’s not so simple,” Baxter said. “You are going to work out on each of the five pieces of equipment, for a period of a half hour. You will have a five minute rest in between. Each machine is linked to an electrical generator. If you drop below a certain speed, it will provide a low level voltage surge throughout your body. You will feel pain and discomfort, but no real harm.”
“You guys are all heart,” Wayne said.
“Good luck. We will notify your wife that you will be coming home late.”
A petite woman standing behind Baxter told Wayne to step on the treadmill.
“No way,” Wayne said.
“I would do as she suggests,” said Baxter. “Otherwise you will breach your contract. It is for your own good Mr. Helms. We just want you to achieve your goals of a healthy body and lifestyle.
Wayne shook his head and stepped onto the treadmill. He had to quit this program.
The woman connected wires to his wrist, chest and neck. “We are starting…now.”
Wayne wasn’t ready for it. Before he started running on the treadmill, he let out a yelp as a surge of electricity went through his body. “What the hell was that?”
“As I explained to you, Mr. Helms, low levels of voltage will be sent into your body if you do not maintain a minimal velocity level on the machines,” Baxter said.
Wayne yelled as he got shocked again.
“Don’t worry about the mechanics of the system. Just and start moving quickly.”
Wayne glared at him but ran faster. He didn’t want to get shocked again.
“After you complete this workout,” Baxter said, “I have little doubt you’ll be well below your target.”
“We don’t have to go to these extremes for me to lose…Ahh.” Wayne’s speed dropped and the machine shocked him.
“Pay attention to what you are doing, Mr. Helms. Don’t pay attention to me.”
“You guys are friggin’ crazy. You can’t do this to people.”
“We can and do. And after you are finished with our program, you will be thankful. Most members of the Pounds Off family join our maintenance program after they have reached their ideal weight.”
Wayne continued bickering with Tom. He stopped talking whenever he got shocked. Baxter stayed with him until he finished his thirty minutes on the treadmill. He was sweating profusely and breathing heavily. After the woman took off the wires, he dropped his hands to his knees and sucked in air.
Wayne approached Baxter with a scowl.
“I would conserve your energy, Mr. Helms. You have a five minute rest period. Use it wisely. This will be the most rigorous workout you have ever endured.”
Wayne plopped himself onto a bench. He was already exhausted. How was he going to finish? He leaned his head against the wall and breathed deeply.
Baxter handed him a glass of water.
Wayne downed it. “Can I have another?”
Baxter nodded and got him another glass of water.
The five minutes ended quickly. The petite woman grabbed him by the wrist and led him to the exercise bike. She attached the wires and probes. “Start peddling.”
Wayne peddled hard immediately. “I will see you later, Mr. Helms. At Pounds Off we teach difficult lessons. Please remember this the next time you want to eat six slices of pepperoni pizza.” Baxter walked out of the room.
“How did you know…” Wayne stopped short when a shot of electricity stunned him. He had to stay focused.
Wayne wanted to conserve his energy, so he slowed down enough that he wouldn’t get zapped. If he was going to finish this exercise routine, he would have to go slower.
Wayne kept steady until the last five minutes. Towards the end, he huffed and puffed and gasped for air. His face felt like it would melt down.
Wayne was shocked three times near the end of the stationary bike workout. He barely had enough energy to get off the seat. The woman handling the wires gave him a bottle of Gatorade. He drank slowly, but still spilled most of it on his shirt.
His next apparatus was the rowing machine. Wayne tried to concentrate on using his arms. For the first time in his life, he had built arm strength.
Within minutes of his stair climber work out, Wayne thought he was going to pass out. He was shocked regularly. He could barely achieve the minimum speed. His body was numb from pain and exertion. Several times he nearly stopped, but as he slowed, the amount of current increased. The threat of pain was the only thing that kept him going.
When Wayne finished with the stair climber, he fell to his knees and vomited. The woman monitoring him helped him sit on a stool. She allowed him a few extra minutes of rest, helping him sip Gatorade every few seconds.
On the final apparatus, the elliptical trainer, Wayne thought that he was going to die. His face and body felt like they were on fire. His lips and cheeks were swollen. His eyes were bloodshot. His legs throbbed and his feet no longer had sensation.
He could not keep track of how many times he had been shocked. His mind was as frazzled as his body. He vomited twice more, but didn’t stop. The last thing he remembered was the woman telling him he had two minutes left.
Hours later he woke up in the hospital, and saw Sally’s concerned face. He could barely make out what she was saying. His body still throbbed. He tried to elevate his head, but lapsed into unconsciousness.
A couple hours later, Wayne woke up again feeling better.
“How are you?” his wife asked.
“Better, I guess. I still feel like hell.”
She handed him a cup of water and he sipped it slowly. “Wayne, you have to quit this program. It’s not worth it if you’re going to wind up in the hospital.”
“I guess not. They practice tough love, but I bet I lost a lot of weight.”
“Wayne, you had to go to the hospital, for Christ’s sakes. Is it supposed to be some consolation that you lost weight?”
“But I’m actually losing weight.”
Sally glared at him. “I want you to quit.”
“I don’t know. They keep on bringing up this contract. It might not be easy.”
“Screw their contract.”
***
A week later, Wayne was still on the program. It would be easy to meet the target at the next weigh-in since he lost ten pounds during the evening of his hospital stay. And he liked being much slimmer than he had been in a long time. He would have to be diligent about meeting the weekly targets. He was sure do it after last week’s episode.
He made two hundred twenty pounds easily, and was on pace to reach two sixteen the following week. But Wayne’s hunger was constant and the meager portions of food he ate never satisfied him.
It was a Saturday afternoon and Wayne was starving. He told Sally he was going to buy an ink cartridge. Instead he stopped at Vinnie’s Pizza and bought an Italian hoagie. It was okay, since he was ahead of schedule.
Wayne drove to the back of the shopping center. He could not bring the food home or Sally would yell at him. He didn’t want to eat the hoagie where people could see him. Wayne closed his eyes and took a big bite. He took another bite, savoring every second of it. This was better than sex.
After his third bite, a high-pitched screech startled him. An SUV pulled up next to him. Two men with rifles jumped out.
“Put the hoagie down, Mr. Helms,” yelled one of the men.
“What the hell?” Wayne recognized the two men as Pounds Off employees.
The first gunman, a tall black man, walked toward the vehicle with his gun pointed at Wayne. The second gunman, a stocky red haired man wearing sunglasses, stood near the SUV.
“Put the sandwich down,” the black man said.
“Fine. I will. Just relax. Man, you guys are out of control. I was just eating a hoagie. There’s no need to shoot me.” Wayne placed the hoagie on the passenger seat.
“Now step out of the vehicle,” the red head shouted.
Wayne opened the door and walked onto the asphalt. “Is all this necessary?”
“Yes it is, sir.” The red-haired gunman opened up the rear door of the SUV. “Please step inside our vehicle.”
“Why?” asked Wayne. “Where are you taking me?”
“We are taking you to see Mr. Baxter.”
The two men escorted Wayne into Baxter’s office, where he sat behind his desk. The red-head placed the partially eaten hoagie on the desk.
“Mr. Helms, why must you continue to test our patience? You agreed to follow the diet plan we set for you. Nowhere does it say that you can eat a greasy Italian hoagie.”
“I know,” Wayne said. “But I was ahead…”
Baxter cut him off. “No buts. We have set your diet this way for a reason. I was hoping that you would get serious and that we wouldn’t have to resort to punishment.”
Wayne’s face turned red. “Well fuck your plan. I quit.”
“I would not advise that, Mr. Helms. Surely you have read the stipulation in your contract regarding prematurely failing to meet the agreements set forth in the document.”
“Huh.”
“Well, let me educate you. In the event that you do not fulfill your part of the bargain, you owe Pounds Off a sum of fifty thousand dollars. In the event that you do not have this money, and I know that you don’t, we will seize your bank accounts and garnish your wages until you can pay off the sum.”
“You bastards. Let me see this contract.”
Baxter reached into a drawer and pulled out the document. Wayne scanned it, going over the small print.
“Are you satisfied?” Baxter asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Baxter gestured to the two men. “Put him in the containment facility.”
Five hours later, the guards took Wayne to his car. When he got home, he explained what had happened to his wife.
Sally waived her hands in the air. “They come after you with guns and drag you out of your car, and now you tell me that if you don’t complete the plan, we have to pay them fifty grand. Well let me tell you Wayne, I’ve had enough. You’re going to meet all of their weight requirements and follow this thing through, or we’re done. With all that’s riding here, if you don’t have the will power to stick to your diet, then I’m taking the kids and leaving. Got it?”
Wayne was near tears. “But Sally.”
“No buts. You either do this, or I’m out of here.”
***
Four days after he had been held at gunpoint, he successfully made weight, with two pounds to spare. The following week he barely hit his target of two hundred seven pounds. Now that he was closer to his target, it was getting harder to make weight.
Fortunately, he was in better shape than he had ever been. Before, he struggled to do a full workout. Now he could exercise for an hour without over-exerting himself. He had increased his bench press from a pathetic seventy five pounds to one hundred forty five pounds. When he flexed in the mirror, he actually saw muscles.
Eating was his weakness. Every night, he lay awake thinking about food. Occasionally, he snacked at work, but now he ate pretzels instead of chips. He had not eaten a cheese steak for nearly a month, the longest stretch in his adult life.
Three weeks after the gun incident, Wayne ate too much salt on the day of his weigh-in. He was shocked to see the scale at two hundred and three, one pound over his target weight. He cringed and stepped off the scale.
His eyes pleaded with Baxter, who only returned a cold glare. “Mr. Helms, why must you force us to go down this road again? I figured the threat that your wife would end your marriage would have been sufficient.”
Wayne scowled. “How do you know about that?”
“That’s not relevant. “What is relevant is that you have failed once more.”
Wayne hung his head, while Baxter picked up the phone and spoke into the receiver.
“W-what are you going to do to me?” Wayne asked.
“Nothing to you, Mr. Helms. However, your kids will have to pay the price.”
Wayne’s head shot up. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Relax, Mr. Helms. No harm will come to them. They will be attending a boot camp for the next two weeks.”
“What?” Wayne got the keys out of his pocket and reached for his jacket.
“Don’t bother. They have already been transported to the camp. I anticipated you would fail again and made the necessary preparations.”
“You son of a bitch.” Wayne shook violently and spit came out of his mouth. “I hope you burn in hell.” He cried as he left the office. He felt like ripping Baxter’s throat out. Instead he went home defeated.
The reason Wayne joined Pounds Off was so that he could get intimate with his wife again. Now she and the kids were gone. Sally packed her bags and left the night they took the kids to boot camp. He was all alone, his life in shambles.
After his children returned from boot camp, they were so angry that they would not speak with him. They had not been harmed, but their resented the hell out of him.
Wayne continued with the program because of the fifty thousand he would owe Pounds Off, and the glimmer of hope that if he finished, Sally would take him back.
The first week after Sally left, he was too depressed to eat and reached his target easily. In the second week, with his wife no longer home, his eating habits deteriorated. He did not know how to cook, so he relied on frozen dinners and take out. He didn’t come close to meeting his target weight of one hundred ninety four pounds.
Baxter glared at him. “Get off the scale. He paced around the room with an ugly snarl. “I have never had to go to such extreme measures. You are a disgrace, Mr. Helms. I can see why your wife left you. I tried to be civil with you, but you leave me with no option. Today, Mr. Helms, you have missed your target for the last time.”
Wayne’s mouth hung open. “You’re not going to kill me?”
“No, I’m not. But after what I am going to do, you might wish you were dead.”
Wayne rushed to the door, but four guards tackled him to the floor. One guard produced a pair of handcuffs and cuffed him.
They took him through the rear exit of the building and into another building located across the street. They brought him inside a dimly lit room.
“You love to eat,” Baxter said, “and you can not seem to control yourself. Well, I’m going to make you do what you love so much.”
They tied Wayne to a chair with a rope and left. Nearly an hour later, Baxter and his entourage returned. Wayne smelled pizza and hamburgers, maybe even a steak.
“Mr. Helms, we have brought food with us, and you are going to eat it—all of it.”
“Look, I’m really not that hungry.”
They started Wayne with a roast beef sandwich, which he finished easily. He drank from a liter bottle of soda. After this, they produced a sausage, meatball, and pepperoni pizza. By the third slice, he slowed down. After his fourth slice, he was stuffed.
“Look, guys I can’t eat any more.”
“What’s wrong, Mr. Helms,” said Baxter. “This is the food you love. You sneak it whenever you can. You eat it at work even though it goes against your diet. And you will eat it now.”
A menacing looking guard gripped Wayne’s shoulder. “You best eat it
Wayne dug into the next slice and the next and the next. By the time he was finished, Wayne felt ill.
He groaned when Baxter put a hamburger in front of him. “Look I can’t eat that. I’m going to get sick.”
“Well, perhaps you should have thought about that before you showed up overweight, again. Eat it.”
A guard with a large scar on his cheek stood in front of Wayne, pounding his fist into his hand. Wayne did not want to find out what would happen if he refused. He bit into the all beef hamburger loaded with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, pickles, mustard and ketchup. His hands shook as he ate. He felt ready to combust. His jaws sore from chewing, he shoved the last bite into his mouth but could not put it down.
“Finish it,” Baxter said.
Wayne shook his head.
One guard grabbed Wayne’s face and forced his jaws to move up and down in a chewing motion. “Swallow!”
Wayne swallowed, then vomited.
“That’s disgusting,” said Baxter.
“Please let me go.”
“I’m afraid not. You’re not done yet.” Baxter produced a plate of fries.
After the first few, Wayne physically could no longer eat.
Baxter took away the fries.
A guard said, “Open your mouth.”
Wayne did what he was told.
Baxter then placed a large funnel into Wayne’s mouth. Two minutes later, a guard poured a heated can of soup into Wayne’s mouth. After the soup, they poured soda into the funnel, followed by another can of soup. When they finished, they removed the funnel and Wayne fell to the floor.
***
Wayne turned his body around so that he could tan his back. Before Pounds Off, he rarely went to the beach. He had been too self-conscious, and being in the hot sun made him uncomfortable. Now he had no problem taking off his shirt and displaying his slim, trim, rock hard body. He weighed a muscular one hundred sixty two pounds. He had even developed an impressive six pack. Pounds Off changed his life and this was the beginning of a new chapter.
Wayne had a hard time even looking at food for the next few weeks after Baxter forced him to eat. The scent of food made him feel ill. Afterward, he ate sparingly. He had no problem meeting the requirements at any of the other weigh-ins, and finished the program two weeks ahead of schedule.
He called Sally after graduating from Pounds Off, but she seemed unimpressed. When he suggested they get together, she refused him. He could visit the children, but had no interested in rekindling their relationship. She told him to get on with his life, and suggested he get a divorce lawyer, because she had already contacted one.
Although deeply hurt, Wayne decided to take her advice. She left him with little choice but to move on. He began to go out with co-workers for happy hour, and to bars and clubs on the weekend. He was amazed that women were actually interested in talking to him.
“Excuse me.” It was a female voice.
Wayne rose from his towel.
An attractive blonde in her early thirties wearing a string bikini had a big smile. “Would you mind put some sun block on my back?”
“Sure.” Wayne applied the lotion. Nobody had ever asked him to do this before.
When he was done, the woman turned around and thanked him. “You know, you look familiar. I can’t quite place it, but I know you. Did you go to Rockwell High?”
Wayne nodded.
“What year did you graduate?”
“1990,” Wayne said.
“So did I. Wait, I know who you are. You’re that guy Wayne. People used to…”
She stopped herself, but Wayne finished her thought. “Make fun of me.”
“Yeah, they were a bunch of assholes anyway. I’m Stacy Egan.” She extended her hand and he shook it.
Wayne remembered her. She had been homely looking in high school.
“Wow, you look so different,” Stacy said. “I can’t believe it.”
Wayne smiled. “Well, I’ve lost about sixty pounds since then.”
“Really? Well you look great. How did you do it?”
“I joined a program called Pounds Off. The best diet system in the world.”
Wayne Helms looked at himself in the mirror and was disgusted with what he saw. He was eighty, no ninety pounds overweight. He had been fat for most of his life. His lean period was between ages ten and twelve, but that ended after he stopped getting taller. He wanted to do something about his weight, but he never had the will power to diet. He tried working out—once. It was not for him.
He had to do something. That morning on the way to work he heard a commercial that he knew would change his life. Pounds Off. It was such an inviting name. They absolutely guaranteed you would lose your desired weight if you followed their program, or they would give a full refund. “If you are frustrated with other diet programs, then it’s time you call us and take those pounds off.” Wayne scrambled to find a pen and paper, and wrote down the phone number.
Wayne called the number after devouring an Italian hoagie during his lunch break.
The receptionist had a perky voice. “When would you like to make an appointment to meet a weight-loss consultant? I would urge you to make it as soon as possible.”
This program was probably in high demand. Wayne looked at his appointment calendar. “I have almost an hour after I finish work today before I have to take my son for his dentist appointment.”
He could almost feel the receptionist’s bright smile through the phone. “That will leave you enough time.”
He had a hard time concentrating at work, thinking about the promises Pounds Off made. This program was going to work. He could feel it. Maybe after dropping the pounds, his wife would be attracted to him again. God knows she hadn’t been lately.
In his job as a computer analyst for an insurance company, Wayne had little physica, sitting in front of a computer all day long. In addition to the healthy lunch that Sally packed for him, he snacked frequently. Sometimes he would munch on a bag of chips, a large bag not a snack pack. Other times he would eat a hoagie or a cheesesteak or an order of hot wings. He would probably have to stop eating all this junk food once he joined Pounds Off.
As he drove to the Pounds Off campus, he felt trepidation. Would he really be able to go through with this? His will was weak; there was no doubt about that, but he was out of options. If not for the kids, his wife Sally would have left him by now.
Wayne pulled into the parking lot. The building looked too cheerful with its bright blue and green colors. But he had gone this far, and wasn’t about to turn back now.
His trepidation increased exponentially as he walked into the building. Smiling faces and physically fit people blinded him.
A cheery young woman wearing a denim shirt and short skirt greeted him. “Hi. I’m Michelle Billick. You must by Wayne Helms.” She extended her hand.
He frowned. “How do you know my name?”
Michelle’s smile never wavered. “I could tell by your voice. We spoke earlier.”
“Oh.”
“Welcome to Pounds Off. Let me tell you, Mr. Helms, you are making the best decision of your life by going on the Pounds Off plan.”
Wayne put his right hand up. “Hey, I haven’t signed up for anything, yet.”
“You will. After you hear what we have to offer, I’m sure you will join. We’re like a family here. I was once a customer just like you.” Michelle reached into her purse and pulled out a picture. “This is what I looked like before Pounds Off.”
“Hmm,” Wayne said. “That’s impressive.”
“And we can do the same for you. Now if you follow me, I’ll introduce you to one of our lifestyle consultants.”
The facility was lavishly decorated. Paintings and sculptures, all bright and full of life adorned the hallways. Breakout rooms lined the hallway. Each had a desk, a table, and a physician’s weight scale. Some rooms had tread mills linked to monitoring equipment. They passed by a large room with glass windows. Inside people were working out in a professional looking gym filled with treadmills, rowing machines, exercise bikes, stair climbers and weight lifting equipment.
He followed Michelle past the gym through a long hallway and then turned right. There were more breakout rooms. She led Wayne to one at the far end of the building. Inside was a man wearing a pin stripe shirt and a red tie.
“Mr. Helms, this is your lifestyle coordinator Tom Baxter.”
“Hello, Mr. Helms. I’m glad that you’ll be joining the Pounds Off family.”
“Wow, you guys are awfully presumptuous,” said Wayne.
“Not presumptuous. Just confident. You see, at Pounds Off we offer what others can’t. We deliver results, guaranteed. Knowing that, why would you not want to join?”
Wayne’s eyes narrowed.
“Let’s commence,” Baxter said.
Michelle Billick said goodbye. Wayne smiled as she walked away, imagining what was underneath her short skirt.
As if reading his mind, Baxter said, “That is what Pounds Off is capable of doing. Now Wayne, I would like you to remove your shoes and step on the scale.”
Wayne was stunned when the scale read two hundred sixty five pounds. He scratched his head. “Damn. I didn’t think I was that heavy.”
“What would you say is your ideal weight, Mr. Helms?”
Wayne stepped off of the scale, looking down at the floor. He shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. What would you say?”
“I would suggest one hundred seventy pounds. Now that number could vary depending upon how much muscle mass you gain.”
“Muscle mass?” Wayne laughed. “I don’t think I have any.”
“Perhaps not now, but under our plan you will, if you so desire.”
“You think so?”
“Sure. Many of our clients start off with physiques similar to yours, but wind up with a well-chiseled frame.”
Wayne smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Then, that is the type of plan we will gear you towards. “Take me through what you would eat during a typical day.”
Wayne did not see the point of lying if he was going to make this plan work. “Well, I usually start off with coffee and donuts unless I can coax my wife, Sally, into making bacon and scrambled eggs. Sally usually packs me a sandwich, but I get so hungry at work that I’ll usually eat a cheesesteak, or a hamburgers or maybe even pizza.”
Baxter frowned.
“Dinner’s the big meal. Sally’s a great cook. The food’s so good I usually help my self to seconds and thirds.
“Is that it?” Baxter asked.
“Well, sometimes I’ll eat a candy bar or a bag of chips to get me through the day. Cheetos are the best.
“Mr. Helms, that will have to change. We have a strict diet regimen consisting of lean foods that you will have to follow religiously. There will be no snacking. “
Wayne grimaced as if he were being whipped. This was worse than he thought. He loved eating junk food.
“We’ll start you off on a diet plan on your next visit. An important component of the plan is exercise. In order to enroll you have to maintain a regimented exercise program. Do you currently own exercise equipment?”
“No,” Wayne replied.
“Are you a member of a gym?”
“No.”
“We have several options for individuals in your situation,” Baxter said in a businesslike tone. “You must either own your own equipment or have a membership at a gym. We sell equipment at wholesale cost. We also have our own gym at this facility, which you probably noticed on the way here.”
“Yes, I saw it. It’s pretty impressive. But look, I really don’t like working out.”
“You’ll learn to like it. Many members of the Pounds Off family had similar feelings when they first started, but exercise becomes a part of their life blood. Your attitude will change after you join. Follow me. I’ll give you a tour.”
Wayne followed Baxter. People sweated profusely on the elliptical trainers and grunting with effort as they pumped iron. Could that really be him? Baxter seemed so confident. His wife would be impressed if they could get him to work out, something she never could do.
When they returned to the breakout room, Wayne knew he had to leave soon, but didn’t want to leave until he made a decision.
As if he could sense Wayne’s consternation, Baxter produced a series of documents. “This is the contract that we make all of our customers sign when they join. I will be right up front with you. Our program is the most expensive in the market. But we offer what no other company can offer, and that is guaranteed results. We charge forty dollars for each pound you drop. There is also a four hundred dollar, one time administrative fee. But we offer a very hands on approach that no one else can match. If you would like to join our gym, the cost is fifty dollars a month. Most participants go for this option because besides our state of the art equipment, they also enjoy the camaraderie of working out in our facility. Pounds Off is a family and emotional support will help you achieve your weight loss goals. I’m not going to lie to you, the process is difficult. But we only produce satisfied customers. We have meetings twice a week. One is a group session where you can share your experiences. The other is one on one with me. At this meeting, we will weigh you, and evaluate your progress.”
“Wow, that is kind of steep,” Wayne said.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to think about it.” Baxter left the room.
Wayne skimmed the contract. Forty dollars per pound was a lot, but if they could do what they claimed, then it would be worth it. Even the new wardrobe he would have to buy would be worth it. He wanted to be close to his wife again. He wanted to be able to play with his children for more than a couple of minutes before getting tired.
Baxter walked into the room. “So, Mr. Helms, have you made your decision?”
“Yes, I’m going for it.”
“This is the best decision you have ever made.”
Baxter produced a pen and Wayne signed the documents. He left feeling better about himself than he had in quite some time.
***
Wayne had always been overweight, but in college he had put on significant weight as a result of late night snacking. It was all those late night pizza runs that did him in.
In his senior year of college, he met Sally. She was a pleasant enough looking woman with no distinguishing features. She was, however, considerably slimmer than him, exercising and dieting regularly. Despite her efforts, it never rubbed off on him.
Wayne never seriously thought about reducing his waistline until one evening when he came on to his wife. He made numerous attempts to be amorous, but she rejected him. When he asked her what was wrong, she told him she still loved him, but was no longer attracted to him.
Those words crushed him. He tried numerous diet plans, but always returned to his original weight. He had occasional success, losing a few pounds here and there, but he invariably put them back on. He tried all of the major weight-loss programs, the Atkins diet, and numerous crash diets, but they did not work for one reason: he lacked will power. After not having sex with his wife for six months, Wayne had become desperate.
“Can you believe this?” Wayne showed his wife how his old pants were now too big. After one month, he dropped twenty-five pounds, and two inches on his waist line.
Sally smiled and kissed her husband on the cheek
“This Pounds Off things is awesome. I can’t believe how much weight I’ve already lost. I’m ahead of schedule, you know.”
Sally gave him a big smile. “I have to say, I had my doubts when you first started. I thought this was going to be like all the other diets you tried in the past. You would lose a couple pounds and put them right back on. But I’m starting to believe in this one.”
“And the Pounds Off people are great. They’ve been nothing but supportive.”
Sally hugged and kissed him. “I have an idea, Wayne. Why don’t we go shopping for some new clothes?”
“New clothes, hmm? Don’t you think that might be too soon?”
“You have to be confident. It’ll work this time.”
Wayne tilted his head. “I could probably use a few pairs of pants for work. Maybe I’ll buy some jeans as well.”
Wayne and Sally went to the mall that afternoon. He bought a pair of Tommy Hilfiger pants that he would not have been able to fit into since he had been in college. He had been getting compliments at work. He felt better about himself, but he was still overweight, and had a long road ahead of him.
***
Three weeks later, Wayne had been on edge all day at work. Today he was going to be officially weighed at Pounds Off. They were adamant that weight targets had to be met at each weigh-in. And there was no way he was going to meet this one.
The first month had been easy. He had so much excess weight, and he had been energized by the Pounds Off people. He joined the Pounds Off gym and actually worked out regularly. The first time he was on a stair climber, he had to stop after five minutes. He felt like he was going to die. Tom Baxter walked into the gym, sat Wayne down and gave him a pep talk. Wayne did another fifteen minutes on the stair climber with Baxter at his side giving him words of encouragement.
With his wife’s help, he stuck to his diet. But the second month proved to be more difficult. His lack of will power crept up on him. He was hungry all the time and snacked at work. He made excuses to leave the house so he could go to a convenience store and grab a candy bar or a bag of Combos. In the past three weeks, he lost two pounds. He lied to his wife about his progress, while she continued to encourage him.
Wayne snapped at his co-workers. Normally he joked around at work, but today his tension was palpable. The department secretary asked if something was bothering him, but he rudely blew her off.
He considered not showing up at Pounds Off weigh-in. He did not want to disappoint them, but what were they going to do, yell at him? He was the one paying for the program. Sure, they might be annoyed since he was paying by the pound, and they would make less money off of him, but they guaranteed results and it wasn’t happening.
When he arrived at the facility, Michelle the receptionist greeted him with her perky smile. “Please wait. Mr. Baxter will be here soon.
Wayne’s stomach was undergoing a revolution while he waited.
Baxter shook his hand. “How are you doing, Wayne?”
“Uh, I’m feeling sick.” Maybe feigning illness keep him from getting on the scale.
“Sorry to hear that. Maybe you should rest when you go home.” Baxter flipped Wayne’s chart. “Okay, Wayne, after week seven your targeted weight is two hundred thirty two pounds. So far you’ve met all your targets. Please step on the scale.”
He didn’t move from his chair.
“Is there a problem?”
“Um, no.” Wayne took off his shoes and was about to step on the scale when it occurred to him that if he took off his shirt and socks, he would weigh less. It probably wouldn’t get him to his target, but it was worth a try.
Wayne stepped on the scale. Tom moved the fifty pound weight block four times, and set it at two hundred. He then moved the smaller weight. Wayne’s heart raced as it moved up the scale, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty and still going. He gulped when it settled at thirty-six and a half.
“Step down.” Baxter’s voice was icy. “Mr. Helms, I can not express to you how disappointed I am. Four and a half pounds over.” He shook his head. “As per the terms of your contract, we will have to take measures.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“In the contract it clearly states that Pounds Off will take measures to help you lose weight if you do not hit your targets. It is further delineated in the Pounds Off manual.”
Wayne was speechless as Baxter picked up the phone and dialed a number. He didn’t remember reading anything like this in the contract.
In less than a minute, two men that looked like mafia enforcers entered the room.
“Can you please escort Mr. Helms to the containment facility?”
“Yes, sir.” Each man grabbed Wayne’s arms and dragged him out of the room.
Wayne shrieked. “Containment facility? Let me go.”
Baxter trailed them. One of the men opened a door, which led down a long, narrow hallway. Halfway down, he opened another door. Wayne looked in horror at a suite that contained nine feet by twelve feet cells. It looked like a prison.
One of his captors opened a cell door, while the other held his right arm.
Wayne tried to shake himself free. “What are you guys doing?”
They shoved him into the cell and locked the door, before leaving the containment facility.
Baxter’s eyes narrowed. “You will remain in this faculty until you meet your designated weight. During this time you will be given water and minimal provisions. Mr. Helms, we take these weigh-ins very seriously and hope that you will too. Hopefully this will serve as a lesson for you.”
Wayne grabbed the iron bars. “You can’t keep me here. I didn’t break any law. You people are crazy, that’s it.”
Baxter smiled. “I assure you that we are not crazy. And the actions we are taking are completely within our rights.”
“But I have a wife and kids. They’ll worry their heads off when I don’t show up.”
“I’ll contact your wife and explain the situation. I am sure she will understand.”
Wayne took a deep breath, trying not to panic. “What about my work?”
“If you are not prepared to leave by tomorrow, then I will contact them as well. We deal with a variety of employers and they are usually quite understanding.”
Wayne shook his head. “This is nuts.”
“Mr. Helms, it is time to get serious about your diet. If you will not do so on your own, then we will help you. Now, I must be leaving. Good day.”
Wayne shouted for help to no avail. He was completely isolated with no television, radio or anything else to divert his attention. How could he have gotten stuck in this trap. He should have read the fine print.
Fifteen minutes after Baxter left, a soothing, female voice came from the walls. At first he was glad to have this voice keep him company, until he listened to what it was actually saying. The woman’s voice named foods, both brand names and generic categories. For each food item, she stated its calories, fat and cholesterol. The voice went on for hours, driving him nuts. There was no way for him to tune it out.
Hours later, Tom Baxter entered the containment facility. Wayne drank four glasses of water from the water cooler in his cell, but had not eaten anything. It was well past dinner time, and he was famished.
“We have contacted your wife to inform her of the situation.”
“What did Sally say?”
“She seemed distraught, but I’m sure she will understand. Please step on the metal platform at the far left corner of your unit.”
“What’s that?” Wayne asked.
“It’s a scale.”
Wayne stepped on the platform and Baxter read the digital readout at the front of the cell. “Two hundred and thirty four. You are still two pounds over.”
“That’s not bad. Now let me the hell out of here.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that until you’ve reached your target. Good day, Mr. Helms.”
Wayne looked in despair as Baxter walked away. How could they leave him here. It was nine thirty. He was hungry and wanted to see his family.
Shortly after Baxter left, the same female voice returned, giving off the fat content of various food.
Three hours later an unnamed guard walked into his cell with a granola bar.
“Can’t you bring me something else?” Wayne pleaded. “Maybe a sandwich or a slice of pizza.”
“Sorry, sir, these are the rules.”
The guard left and Wayne greedily ate the granola bar as his stomach growled for more food. He couldn’t ever remember being this hungry.
He slept fitfully on the cot, trying to ignore his growling stomach. At three in the morning, he opened his left eye and found a woman with short brown hair and glasses standing outside.
“Good morning, Mr. Helms.”
He grunted.
“Can you please step onto the platform.”
Wayne rose from the cot. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway.” He stepped on the metal scale. His shoulders slumped and his eyes closed. The woman’s voice woke him up.
“It appears that you have reached your target and are free to go.”
“Really? That’s great. Thank God.”
She opened the door and he left the facility as quickly as possible. Fifteen minutes later, he was never so happy to be home.
“Why are you still going through with this?” Sally asked.
Wayne stepped off of the scale in their bathroom. He shrugged. “I didn’t like being put in that jail cell either, but I’m getting results.”
“Yeah, but at what cost?”
Wayne had been following the diet and exercise program religiously since spending the night in the Pounds Off containment facility. The following week, he beat his target by a pound. With five more days until the next weigh-in, he was already fretting over it.
“Well, these people are serious. They demand results. You have to admit that I look a lot better than I have in a long time.”
Sally gave a shy smile. “You do. I just worry about what’s going to happen if you don’t hit their target again.”
“I’m sure that first time was just to scare me. Everything will be fine.”
But on the day of the next checkpoint, Wayne kept his fingers crossed. Two days earlier he was at an office party where he gorged on six slices of pepperoni pizza. Since then he tried to exercise hard and eat little, but the damage had been done.
He jogged during his lunch break, but was so hungry that he couldn’t stop himself from buying a sausage sandwich from a street vendor.
His hands shook when he arrived at Pounds Off. He had to be at two hundred twenty three pounds.
In the training room inside Pounds Off, Tom Baxter told him to step on the scale.
“Shit!” Wayne shouted. The scale balanced at two pounds higher than his target.
Baxter gave him an icy stare. “Mr. Helms, this is a serious violation. I hoped that you would have learned the last time, but unfortunately you continue to be weak. For that, we must discipline you.”
Wayne’s eyes went wide. “Not the containment facility.”
“No. Apparently that doesn’t work with you. We will try something different.”
Wayne gulped.
The same two large men that escorted Wayne previously, appeared. These guys looked serious. Did they ever smile? They led him to a room that had exercise equipment hooked up to so many wires that they looked like spaghetti.
This wasn’t so bad. “You’re going to make me workout?”
“It’s not so simple,” Baxter said. “You are going to work out on each of the five pieces of equipment, for a period of a half hour. You will have a five minute rest in between. Each machine is linked to an electrical generator. If you drop below a certain speed, it will provide a low level voltage surge throughout your body. You will feel pain and discomfort, but no real harm.”
“You guys are all heart,” Wayne said.
“Good luck. We will notify your wife that you will be coming home late.”
A petite woman standing behind Baxter told Wayne to step on the treadmill.
“No way,” Wayne said.
“I would do as she suggests,” said Baxter. “Otherwise you will breach your contract. It is for your own good Mr. Helms. We just want you to achieve your goals of a healthy body and lifestyle.
Wayne shook his head and stepped onto the treadmill. He had to quit this program.
The woman connected wires to his wrist, chest and neck. “We are starting…now.”
Wayne wasn’t ready for it. Before he started running on the treadmill, he let out a yelp as a surge of electricity went through his body. “What the hell was that?”
“As I explained to you, Mr. Helms, low levels of voltage will be sent into your body if you do not maintain a minimal velocity level on the machines,” Baxter said.
Wayne yelled as he got shocked again.
“Don’t worry about the mechanics of the system. Just and start moving quickly.”
Wayne glared at him but ran faster. He didn’t want to get shocked again.
“After you complete this workout,” Baxter said, “I have little doubt you’ll be well below your target.”
“We don’t have to go to these extremes for me to lose…Ahh.” Wayne’s speed dropped and the machine shocked him.
“Pay attention to what you are doing, Mr. Helms. Don’t pay attention to me.”
“You guys are friggin’ crazy. You can’t do this to people.”
“We can and do. And after you are finished with our program, you will be thankful. Most members of the Pounds Off family join our maintenance program after they have reached their ideal weight.”
Wayne continued bickering with Tom. He stopped talking whenever he got shocked. Baxter stayed with him until he finished his thirty minutes on the treadmill. He was sweating profusely and breathing heavily. After the woman took off the wires, he dropped his hands to his knees and sucked in air.
Wayne approached Baxter with a scowl.
“I would conserve your energy, Mr. Helms. You have a five minute rest period. Use it wisely. This will be the most rigorous workout you have ever endured.”
Wayne plopped himself onto a bench. He was already exhausted. How was he going to finish? He leaned his head against the wall and breathed deeply.
Baxter handed him a glass of water.
Wayne downed it. “Can I have another?”
Baxter nodded and got him another glass of water.
The five minutes ended quickly. The petite woman grabbed him by the wrist and led him to the exercise bike. She attached the wires and probes. “Start peddling.”
Wayne peddled hard immediately. “I will see you later, Mr. Helms. At Pounds Off we teach difficult lessons. Please remember this the next time you want to eat six slices of pepperoni pizza.” Baxter walked out of the room.
“How did you know…” Wayne stopped short when a shot of electricity stunned him. He had to stay focused.
Wayne wanted to conserve his energy, so he slowed down enough that he wouldn’t get zapped. If he was going to finish this exercise routine, he would have to go slower.
Wayne kept steady until the last five minutes. Towards the end, he huffed and puffed and gasped for air. His face felt like it would melt down.
Wayne was shocked three times near the end of the stationary bike workout. He barely had enough energy to get off the seat. The woman handling the wires gave him a bottle of Gatorade. He drank slowly, but still spilled most of it on his shirt.
His next apparatus was the rowing machine. Wayne tried to concentrate on using his arms. For the first time in his life, he had built arm strength.
Within minutes of his stair climber work out, Wayne thought he was going to pass out. He was shocked regularly. He could barely achieve the minimum speed. His body was numb from pain and exertion. Several times he nearly stopped, but as he slowed, the amount of current increased. The threat of pain was the only thing that kept him going.
When Wayne finished with the stair climber, he fell to his knees and vomited. The woman monitoring him helped him sit on a stool. She allowed him a few extra minutes of rest, helping him sip Gatorade every few seconds.
On the final apparatus, the elliptical trainer, Wayne thought that he was going to die. His face and body felt like they were on fire. His lips and cheeks were swollen. His eyes were bloodshot. His legs throbbed and his feet no longer had sensation.
He could not keep track of how many times he had been shocked. His mind was as frazzled as his body. He vomited twice more, but didn’t stop. The last thing he remembered was the woman telling him he had two minutes left.
Hours later he woke up in the hospital, and saw Sally’s concerned face. He could barely make out what she was saying. His body still throbbed. He tried to elevate his head, but lapsed into unconsciousness.
A couple hours later, Wayne woke up again feeling better.
“How are you?” his wife asked.
“Better, I guess. I still feel like hell.”
She handed him a cup of water and he sipped it slowly. “Wayne, you have to quit this program. It’s not worth it if you’re going to wind up in the hospital.”
“I guess not. They practice tough love, but I bet I lost a lot of weight.”
“Wayne, you had to go to the hospital, for Christ’s sakes. Is it supposed to be some consolation that you lost weight?”
“But I’m actually losing weight.”
Sally glared at him. “I want you to quit.”
“I don’t know. They keep on bringing up this contract. It might not be easy.”
“Screw their contract.”
***
A week later, Wayne was still on the program. It would be easy to meet the target at the next weigh-in since he lost ten pounds during the evening of his hospital stay. And he liked being much slimmer than he had been in a long time. He would have to be diligent about meeting the weekly targets. He was sure do it after last week’s episode.
He made two hundred twenty pounds easily, and was on pace to reach two sixteen the following week. But Wayne’s hunger was constant and the meager portions of food he ate never satisfied him.
It was a Saturday afternoon and Wayne was starving. He told Sally he was going to buy an ink cartridge. Instead he stopped at Vinnie’s Pizza and bought an Italian hoagie. It was okay, since he was ahead of schedule.
Wayne drove to the back of the shopping center. He could not bring the food home or Sally would yell at him. He didn’t want to eat the hoagie where people could see him. Wayne closed his eyes and took a big bite. He took another bite, savoring every second of it. This was better than sex.
After his third bite, a high-pitched screech startled him. An SUV pulled up next to him. Two men with rifles jumped out.
“Put the hoagie down, Mr. Helms,” yelled one of the men.
“What the hell?” Wayne recognized the two men as Pounds Off employees.
The first gunman, a tall black man, walked toward the vehicle with his gun pointed at Wayne. The second gunman, a stocky red haired man wearing sunglasses, stood near the SUV.
“Put the sandwich down,” the black man said.
“Fine. I will. Just relax. Man, you guys are out of control. I was just eating a hoagie. There’s no need to shoot me.” Wayne placed the hoagie on the passenger seat.
“Now step out of the vehicle,” the red head shouted.
Wayne opened the door and walked onto the asphalt. “Is all this necessary?”
“Yes it is, sir.” The red-haired gunman opened up the rear door of the SUV. “Please step inside our vehicle.”
“Why?” asked Wayne. “Where are you taking me?”
“We are taking you to see Mr. Baxter.”
The two men escorted Wayne into Baxter’s office, where he sat behind his desk. The red-head placed the partially eaten hoagie on the desk.
“Mr. Helms, why must you continue to test our patience? You agreed to follow the diet plan we set for you. Nowhere does it say that you can eat a greasy Italian hoagie.”
“I know,” Wayne said. “But I was ahead…”
Baxter cut him off. “No buts. We have set your diet this way for a reason. I was hoping that you would get serious and that we wouldn’t have to resort to punishment.”
Wayne’s face turned red. “Well fuck your plan. I quit.”
“I would not advise that, Mr. Helms. Surely you have read the stipulation in your contract regarding prematurely failing to meet the agreements set forth in the document.”
“Huh.”
“Well, let me educate you. In the event that you do not fulfill your part of the bargain, you owe Pounds Off a sum of fifty thousand dollars. In the event that you do not have this money, and I know that you don’t, we will seize your bank accounts and garnish your wages until you can pay off the sum.”
“You bastards. Let me see this contract.”
Baxter reached into a drawer and pulled out the document. Wayne scanned it, going over the small print.
“Are you satisfied?” Baxter asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Baxter gestured to the two men. “Put him in the containment facility.”
Five hours later, the guards took Wayne to his car. When he got home, he explained what had happened to his wife.
Sally waived her hands in the air. “They come after you with guns and drag you out of your car, and now you tell me that if you don’t complete the plan, we have to pay them fifty grand. Well let me tell you Wayne, I’ve had enough. You’re going to meet all of their weight requirements and follow this thing through, or we’re done. With all that’s riding here, if you don’t have the will power to stick to your diet, then I’m taking the kids and leaving. Got it?”
Wayne was near tears. “But Sally.”
“No buts. You either do this, or I’m out of here.”
***
Four days after he had been held at gunpoint, he successfully made weight, with two pounds to spare. The following week he barely hit his target of two hundred seven pounds. Now that he was closer to his target, it was getting harder to make weight.
Fortunately, he was in better shape than he had ever been. Before, he struggled to do a full workout. Now he could exercise for an hour without over-exerting himself. He had increased his bench press from a pathetic seventy five pounds to one hundred forty five pounds. When he flexed in the mirror, he actually saw muscles.
Eating was his weakness. Every night, he lay awake thinking about food. Occasionally, he snacked at work, but now he ate pretzels instead of chips. He had not eaten a cheese steak for nearly a month, the longest stretch in his adult life.
Three weeks after the gun incident, Wayne ate too much salt on the day of his weigh-in. He was shocked to see the scale at two hundred and three, one pound over his target weight. He cringed and stepped off the scale.
His eyes pleaded with Baxter, who only returned a cold glare. “Mr. Helms, why must you force us to go down this road again? I figured the threat that your wife would end your marriage would have been sufficient.”
Wayne scowled. “How do you know about that?”
“That’s not relevant. “What is relevant is that you have failed once more.”
Wayne hung his head, while Baxter picked up the phone and spoke into the receiver.
“W-what are you going to do to me?” Wayne asked.
“Nothing to you, Mr. Helms. However, your kids will have to pay the price.”
Wayne’s head shot up. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Relax, Mr. Helms. No harm will come to them. They will be attending a boot camp for the next two weeks.”
“What?” Wayne got the keys out of his pocket and reached for his jacket.
“Don’t bother. They have already been transported to the camp. I anticipated you would fail again and made the necessary preparations.”
“You son of a bitch.” Wayne shook violently and spit came out of his mouth. “I hope you burn in hell.” He cried as he left the office. He felt like ripping Baxter’s throat out. Instead he went home defeated.
The reason Wayne joined Pounds Off was so that he could get intimate with his wife again. Now she and the kids were gone. Sally packed her bags and left the night they took the kids to boot camp. He was all alone, his life in shambles.
After his children returned from boot camp, they were so angry that they would not speak with him. They had not been harmed, but their resented the hell out of him.
Wayne continued with the program because of the fifty thousand he would owe Pounds Off, and the glimmer of hope that if he finished, Sally would take him back.
The first week after Sally left, he was too depressed to eat and reached his target easily. In the second week, with his wife no longer home, his eating habits deteriorated. He did not know how to cook, so he relied on frozen dinners and take out. He didn’t come close to meeting his target weight of one hundred ninety four pounds.
Baxter glared at him. “Get off the scale. He paced around the room with an ugly snarl. “I have never had to go to such extreme measures. You are a disgrace, Mr. Helms. I can see why your wife left you. I tried to be civil with you, but you leave me with no option. Today, Mr. Helms, you have missed your target for the last time.”
Wayne’s mouth hung open. “You’re not going to kill me?”
“No, I’m not. But after what I am going to do, you might wish you were dead.”
Wayne rushed to the door, but four guards tackled him to the floor. One guard produced a pair of handcuffs and cuffed him.
They took him through the rear exit of the building and into another building located across the street. They brought him inside a dimly lit room.
“You love to eat,” Baxter said, “and you can not seem to control yourself. Well, I’m going to make you do what you love so much.”
They tied Wayne to a chair with a rope and left. Nearly an hour later, Baxter and his entourage returned. Wayne smelled pizza and hamburgers, maybe even a steak.
“Mr. Helms, we have brought food with us, and you are going to eat it—all of it.”
“Look, I’m really not that hungry.”
They started Wayne with a roast beef sandwich, which he finished easily. He drank from a liter bottle of soda. After this, they produced a sausage, meatball, and pepperoni pizza. By the third slice, he slowed down. After his fourth slice, he was stuffed.
“Look, guys I can’t eat any more.”
“What’s wrong, Mr. Helms,” said Baxter. “This is the food you love. You sneak it whenever you can. You eat it at work even though it goes against your diet. And you will eat it now.”
A menacing looking guard gripped Wayne’s shoulder. “You best eat it
Wayne dug into the next slice and the next and the next. By the time he was finished, Wayne felt ill.
He groaned when Baxter put a hamburger in front of him. “Look I can’t eat that. I’m going to get sick.”
“Well, perhaps you should have thought about that before you showed up overweight, again. Eat it.”
A guard with a large scar on his cheek stood in front of Wayne, pounding his fist into his hand. Wayne did not want to find out what would happen if he refused. He bit into the all beef hamburger loaded with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, pickles, mustard and ketchup. His hands shook as he ate. He felt ready to combust. His jaws sore from chewing, he shoved the last bite into his mouth but could not put it down.
“Finish it,” Baxter said.
Wayne shook his head.
One guard grabbed Wayne’s face and forced his jaws to move up and down in a chewing motion. “Swallow!”
Wayne swallowed, then vomited.
“That’s disgusting,” said Baxter.
“Please let me go.”
“I’m afraid not. You’re not done yet.” Baxter produced a plate of fries.
After the first few, Wayne physically could no longer eat.
Baxter took away the fries.
A guard said, “Open your mouth.”
Wayne did what he was told.
Baxter then placed a large funnel into Wayne’s mouth. Two minutes later, a guard poured a heated can of soup into Wayne’s mouth. After the soup, they poured soda into the funnel, followed by another can of soup. When they finished, they removed the funnel and Wayne fell to the floor.
***
Wayne turned his body around so that he could tan his back. Before Pounds Off, he rarely went to the beach. He had been too self-conscious, and being in the hot sun made him uncomfortable. Now he had no problem taking off his shirt and displaying his slim, trim, rock hard body. He weighed a muscular one hundred sixty two pounds. He had even developed an impressive six pack. Pounds Off changed his life and this was the beginning of a new chapter.
Wayne had a hard time even looking at food for the next few weeks after Baxter forced him to eat. The scent of food made him feel ill. Afterward, he ate sparingly. He had no problem meeting the requirements at any of the other weigh-ins, and finished the program two weeks ahead of schedule.
He called Sally after graduating from Pounds Off, but she seemed unimpressed. When he suggested they get together, she refused him. He could visit the children, but had no interested in rekindling their relationship. She told him to get on with his life, and suggested he get a divorce lawyer, because she had already contacted one.
Although deeply hurt, Wayne decided to take her advice. She left him with little choice but to move on. He began to go out with co-workers for happy hour, and to bars and clubs on the weekend. He was amazed that women were actually interested in talking to him.
“Excuse me.” It was a female voice.
Wayne rose from his towel.
An attractive blonde in her early thirties wearing a string bikini had a big smile. “Would you mind put some sun block on my back?”
“Sure.” Wayne applied the lotion. Nobody had ever asked him to do this before.
When he was done, the woman turned around and thanked him. “You know, you look familiar. I can’t quite place it, but I know you. Did you go to Rockwell High?”
Wayne nodded.
“What year did you graduate?”
“1990,” Wayne said.
“So did I. Wait, I know who you are. You’re that guy Wayne. People used to…”
She stopped herself, but Wayne finished her thought. “Make fun of me.”
“Yeah, they were a bunch of assholes anyway. I’m Stacy Egan.” She extended her hand and he shook it.
Wayne remembered her. She had been homely looking in high school.
“Wow, you look so different,” Stacy said. “I can’t believe it.”
Wayne smiled. “Well, I’ve lost about sixty pounds since then.”
“Really? Well you look great. How did you do it?”
“I joined a program called Pounds Off. The best diet system in the world.”
August 5, 2015
10 Questions with W.D. Gagliani
1. When you originally wrote Wolf’s Trap, did you intend it to be a series?
No, it was intended as a one-off. I seriously considered killing the protagonist, Nick Lupo, at the end. The first small press editor who published it thought I should end on a hopeful note, so the book ended up being (maybe) a little goofily up-note rather the nihilistic approach I had intended. If I had killed him I wouldn’t ever have thought to make it a series, and it would have been harder – logically, anyway. So I was glad when Leisure Books said the sales had been superb and asked me if I could write more. It went on to three printings, and the second book (Wolf’s Gambit) to two, I believe. Unfortunately by the third book (Wolf’s Bluff) Dorchester was imploding and I don’t think many copies went out. The company went under shortly after that, so the third book never had a chance to get much exposure.
2. Who has been your biggest influence as a writer?
There have been many, of course. Stephen King started me seriously writing horror when I read him in 1976, while still in high school. I read ‘Salem’s Lot by this unknown guy, Something-King, and I was pretty well done right there. That book scared the crap out of a little latch-key kid in an empty house in the middle of a dark Wisconsin winter. I hoped my dog, a Black Lab, would fight off the vampires! So King jump-started my more serious efforts, but I’d always read in the dark areas. Heck, I read James Herbert long before King. I just wasn’t seeking it out. But before that I was reading across the spectrum – science fiction, some fantasy (but never big into the Tolkienesque), mystery – both quiet and hard-boiled – and thrillers, especially British thrillers: everything from Ian Fleming to Alistair MacLean and others. I was an early reader and voracious. Never went anywhere without a book. Reading from the adult stacks at the library while still in grade school. Reading “naughty” Seventies stuff like all the Harold Robbins potboilers, too, which gave me an appreciation for adding sex to the violence. And in the Eighties I met the splatterpunks… that was when a lot of these influences meshed together for me. King really made me serious about horror, but I had lots of influences. Other touchstone names for me are Jules Verne, Harlan Ellison, Philip K. Dick, Robert McCammon, Desmond Bagley, Duncan Kyle, Raymond Chandler, Ellery Queen, then pretty much all the splatterpunks, F. Paul Wilson, Joe Lansdale, and some of my biggest favorites: Tim Powers, James Blaylock, Charles deLint. The list is endless.
3. If Wolf’s Trap was being made into a movie and the producer asked you to cast your ideal actor for Nick Lupo, who would you choose?
That’s a tough one. I started it in 1993 (!) so at the time I thought Nick looked like a cross between Joe Mantegna and Andy Garcia (Godfather Part 3, you know). Over the years it’s changed, I guess. Ironically there’s an actor who plays a homicide cop named Nick on the Grimm show (on NBC) who could easily be my Nick, if he was maybe a bit older and more bulked up – David Giuntoli looks right, and sometimes Grimm looks like something I’ve written. Otherwise I’m not sure who else… maybe Hugh Jackman, and not only because he plays Wolverine. He probably doesn’t look Italian enough, but he has the right vibe.
4. How has the digital revolution and the emergence of ebooks affected you as a writer?
Well, for one thing it made me something of a small publisher. I’ve self-pubbed some short stories, some of them collaborations with David Benton, as well as my own short story collection, Shadowplays, and a few odds and ends. They don’t sell in great numbers, only a trickle, but my thriller Savage Nights (which I’d intended as my second novel before being asked for a Nick Lupo sequel) has gotten some great reviews but most houses passed on it, probably because it’s so violent. In any case, I started early – the first version of my Shadowplays collection came out in 2000, with the early ebooks! When the Kindle came about, I updated it with most of my Honorable Mentions in the Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror anthologies, and went with it. I like both ebooks and paper as a reader, but I still prefer paper by a thin margin. I have a basement office stuffed with books! But my shelves are sagging, they’re too full. Ebooks relieve the stress, and they travel well. Both formats have their pros and cons. On a trip I’ll bring both a paper book and an iPad filled with stuff for my Kindle app. As a writer, it’s given me more outlets. One thing it hasn’t done is make me filthy rich… I’m still waiting for that part.
5. What made you decide to write about werewolves?
In the Nineties it was all about vampires. Everywhere were bloodsuckers. I liked some. Like Anno Dracula, by Kim Newman. Fever Dream by George R.R. Martin. Lots of work by Elaine Bergstrom (with whom I workshopped all of Wolf’s Trap, by the way, as we are both Milwaukeeans), and P.N. Elrod, Tanya Huff, Nancy Kilpatrick, Tamara Thorne… Ray Garton’s Live Girls is a classic that pushed me toward more extreme content. In any case, those where what I liked, but there was a lot I didn’t care for. And while I watched the syndicated TV show Forever Knight, I remember thinking it was good, but it would have been more badass if it were a werewolf. Having grown up on Universal monster movies, I related to Talbot in The Wolf-Man, and later in Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (!)… and also since I had been reading Robert McCammon I was blown away by The Wolfs Hour. All those elements just went into the hopper and I came up with the idea of presenting logically what a guy would have to go through if he was a werewolf and also a cop. Plus Silence of the Lambs had just made a huge splash and I thought I could replicate that sort of memorable antagonist. In Wolf’s Trap, I was going for a sort of hick version of Hannibal with Martin Stewart, except he wasn’t a cannibal. But I always loved the idea of the beast inside, the dual nature (Wolf’s Trap is loaded with dual natured characters), and the question where does evil come from? I thought the werewolf was an interesting metaphor, and I liked that it complicated life a lot more than just having to work nights… all those bloody meat cartons in the trash, waking up naked in the woods, and so on. I liked all those tropes and I had my way with them.
6. What current writing projects are you working on?
My next Lupo novel is in the plotting stages – but upcoming is Wolf’s Blind (the 6th) due from Samhain in November. I’m working on a novel with my collaborator Dave Benton, as well as a couple short stories. We have other things in the pipeline. We have a story in Jonathan Maberry’s upcoming anthology THE X-FILES: TRUST NO ONE that we’re very proud of, and we’ve had stuff in two of Cohesion Press’s SNAFU anthologies. We have more ideas than time, that’s for sure. We have other projects in various stages, but we sometimes get in the mood for a change and work on something else.
7. Do you prefer writing a series or stand alone novels?
I like both equally. With a series, you’re comfortable with the characters you’ve developed over time and you get to pit them against new people. With a stand-alone you have to start from scratch, but I’m a big fan of letting characters dictate their own backstories and their own destinies, so that’s fun too. I don’t have a preference, though my series has resonated with some and that’s why I’m more invested in that right now.
8. What made you start writing?
I was an early reader (in Italian), and it was just natural that I would want to write down stories myself. Probably by the age of six I knew I would write, and by eight I was writing creatively routinely in school. I wrote all through high school and less so in my undergraduate work, but back to the writing when I switched and went back for my MA. I could almost say I wanted to start writing the very first day I read a story. I just thought immediately it was what I wanted to do. What was the trigger before King? It was probably the Disney tales I read in Italy (which looked remarkably like graphic novels in the Duck Tales vein in the Sixties). They were multi-genre, really, too, so that seed was planted early.
9. Is there any subject that is off limits for you as a writer?
None whatsoever. I’ve written graphic sex, graphic child abuse, graphic torture. You name it. I’m not afraid of tough, gory subjects. The splatterpunks left a deep mark in me (thanks Richard Laymon, David Schow, Ray Garton, Skipp and Spector, Joe Lansdale, Robert McCammon, et al.), and I’m grateful to have met almost all of them during my career. They were like Joe Walsh’s contribution to the Eagles – they gave my work an edge. I just feel that a writer should be willing to go wherever he or she wants, explore anything, without flinching. I mean, what’s the point of soft-pedaling when the world is so outrageously violent? I could name about six world events that just happened in the last week that would look like horror porn if I stuck them in a movie, yet they’re all true. Why avoid the tough stuff? I don’t believe I write “art,” but I do believe that “art” in general should evoke strong feelings. I find landscapes beautiful, but it’s stuff like “The Scream” that makes my mind work overtime. I’d rather go for the throat, literally, if I have the chance.
10. If you could invite five people to a dinner party (alive or dead, real or fictional) who would you invite?
Assuming I’m not inviting family or friends, I would want to have a confab with some of my favorite writers: Tim Powers, James Blaylock, Ian Fleming, Philip K. Dick, and probably Harlan Ellison. The question is, would they bother to come? Well, it would be a pretty stilted conversation, anyway! But I’d enjoy it…
No, it was intended as a one-off. I seriously considered killing the protagonist, Nick Lupo, at the end. The first small press editor who published it thought I should end on a hopeful note, so the book ended up being (maybe) a little goofily up-note rather the nihilistic approach I had intended. If I had killed him I wouldn’t ever have thought to make it a series, and it would have been harder – logically, anyway. So I was glad when Leisure Books said the sales had been superb and asked me if I could write more. It went on to three printings, and the second book (Wolf’s Gambit) to two, I believe. Unfortunately by the third book (Wolf’s Bluff) Dorchester was imploding and I don’t think many copies went out. The company went under shortly after that, so the third book never had a chance to get much exposure.
2. Who has been your biggest influence as a writer?
There have been many, of course. Stephen King started me seriously writing horror when I read him in 1976, while still in high school. I read ‘Salem’s Lot by this unknown guy, Something-King, and I was pretty well done right there. That book scared the crap out of a little latch-key kid in an empty house in the middle of a dark Wisconsin winter. I hoped my dog, a Black Lab, would fight off the vampires! So King jump-started my more serious efforts, but I’d always read in the dark areas. Heck, I read James Herbert long before King. I just wasn’t seeking it out. But before that I was reading across the spectrum – science fiction, some fantasy (but never big into the Tolkienesque), mystery – both quiet and hard-boiled – and thrillers, especially British thrillers: everything from Ian Fleming to Alistair MacLean and others. I was an early reader and voracious. Never went anywhere without a book. Reading from the adult stacks at the library while still in grade school. Reading “naughty” Seventies stuff like all the Harold Robbins potboilers, too, which gave me an appreciation for adding sex to the violence. And in the Eighties I met the splatterpunks… that was when a lot of these influences meshed together for me. King really made me serious about horror, but I had lots of influences. Other touchstone names for me are Jules Verne, Harlan Ellison, Philip K. Dick, Robert McCammon, Desmond Bagley, Duncan Kyle, Raymond Chandler, Ellery Queen, then pretty much all the splatterpunks, F. Paul Wilson, Joe Lansdale, and some of my biggest favorites: Tim Powers, James Blaylock, Charles deLint. The list is endless.
3. If Wolf’s Trap was being made into a movie and the producer asked you to cast your ideal actor for Nick Lupo, who would you choose?
That’s a tough one. I started it in 1993 (!) so at the time I thought Nick looked like a cross between Joe Mantegna and Andy Garcia (Godfather Part 3, you know). Over the years it’s changed, I guess. Ironically there’s an actor who plays a homicide cop named Nick on the Grimm show (on NBC) who could easily be my Nick, if he was maybe a bit older and more bulked up – David Giuntoli looks right, and sometimes Grimm looks like something I’ve written. Otherwise I’m not sure who else… maybe Hugh Jackman, and not only because he plays Wolverine. He probably doesn’t look Italian enough, but he has the right vibe.
4. How has the digital revolution and the emergence of ebooks affected you as a writer?
Well, for one thing it made me something of a small publisher. I’ve self-pubbed some short stories, some of them collaborations with David Benton, as well as my own short story collection, Shadowplays, and a few odds and ends. They don’t sell in great numbers, only a trickle, but my thriller Savage Nights (which I’d intended as my second novel before being asked for a Nick Lupo sequel) has gotten some great reviews but most houses passed on it, probably because it’s so violent. In any case, I started early – the first version of my Shadowplays collection came out in 2000, with the early ebooks! When the Kindle came about, I updated it with most of my Honorable Mentions in the Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror anthologies, and went with it. I like both ebooks and paper as a reader, but I still prefer paper by a thin margin. I have a basement office stuffed with books! But my shelves are sagging, they’re too full. Ebooks relieve the stress, and they travel well. Both formats have their pros and cons. On a trip I’ll bring both a paper book and an iPad filled with stuff for my Kindle app. As a writer, it’s given me more outlets. One thing it hasn’t done is make me filthy rich… I’m still waiting for that part.
5. What made you decide to write about werewolves?
In the Nineties it was all about vampires. Everywhere were bloodsuckers. I liked some. Like Anno Dracula, by Kim Newman. Fever Dream by George R.R. Martin. Lots of work by Elaine Bergstrom (with whom I workshopped all of Wolf’s Trap, by the way, as we are both Milwaukeeans), and P.N. Elrod, Tanya Huff, Nancy Kilpatrick, Tamara Thorne… Ray Garton’s Live Girls is a classic that pushed me toward more extreme content. In any case, those where what I liked, but there was a lot I didn’t care for. And while I watched the syndicated TV show Forever Knight, I remember thinking it was good, but it would have been more badass if it were a werewolf. Having grown up on Universal monster movies, I related to Talbot in The Wolf-Man, and later in Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (!)… and also since I had been reading Robert McCammon I was blown away by The Wolfs Hour. All those elements just went into the hopper and I came up with the idea of presenting logically what a guy would have to go through if he was a werewolf and also a cop. Plus Silence of the Lambs had just made a huge splash and I thought I could replicate that sort of memorable antagonist. In Wolf’s Trap, I was going for a sort of hick version of Hannibal with Martin Stewart, except he wasn’t a cannibal. But I always loved the idea of the beast inside, the dual nature (Wolf’s Trap is loaded with dual natured characters), and the question where does evil come from? I thought the werewolf was an interesting metaphor, and I liked that it complicated life a lot more than just having to work nights… all those bloody meat cartons in the trash, waking up naked in the woods, and so on. I liked all those tropes and I had my way with them.
6. What current writing projects are you working on?
My next Lupo novel is in the plotting stages – but upcoming is Wolf’s Blind (the 6th) due from Samhain in November. I’m working on a novel with my collaborator Dave Benton, as well as a couple short stories. We have other things in the pipeline. We have a story in Jonathan Maberry’s upcoming anthology THE X-FILES: TRUST NO ONE that we’re very proud of, and we’ve had stuff in two of Cohesion Press’s SNAFU anthologies. We have more ideas than time, that’s for sure. We have other projects in various stages, but we sometimes get in the mood for a change and work on something else.
7. Do you prefer writing a series or stand alone novels?
I like both equally. With a series, you’re comfortable with the characters you’ve developed over time and you get to pit them against new people. With a stand-alone you have to start from scratch, but I’m a big fan of letting characters dictate their own backstories and their own destinies, so that’s fun too. I don’t have a preference, though my series has resonated with some and that’s why I’m more invested in that right now.
8. What made you start writing?
I was an early reader (in Italian), and it was just natural that I would want to write down stories myself. Probably by the age of six I knew I would write, and by eight I was writing creatively routinely in school. I wrote all through high school and less so in my undergraduate work, but back to the writing when I switched and went back for my MA. I could almost say I wanted to start writing the very first day I read a story. I just thought immediately it was what I wanted to do. What was the trigger before King? It was probably the Disney tales I read in Italy (which looked remarkably like graphic novels in the Duck Tales vein in the Sixties). They were multi-genre, really, too, so that seed was planted early.
9. Is there any subject that is off limits for you as a writer?
None whatsoever. I’ve written graphic sex, graphic child abuse, graphic torture. You name it. I’m not afraid of tough, gory subjects. The splatterpunks left a deep mark in me (thanks Richard Laymon, David Schow, Ray Garton, Skipp and Spector, Joe Lansdale, Robert McCammon, et al.), and I’m grateful to have met almost all of them during my career. They were like Joe Walsh’s contribution to the Eagles – they gave my work an edge. I just feel that a writer should be willing to go wherever he or she wants, explore anything, without flinching. I mean, what’s the point of soft-pedaling when the world is so outrageously violent? I could name about six world events that just happened in the last week that would look like horror porn if I stuck them in a movie, yet they’re all true. Why avoid the tough stuff? I don’t believe I write “art,” but I do believe that “art” in general should evoke strong feelings. I find landscapes beautiful, but it’s stuff like “The Scream” that makes my mind work overtime. I’d rather go for the throat, literally, if I have the chance.
10. If you could invite five people to a dinner party (alive or dead, real or fictional) who would you invite?
Assuming I’m not inviting family or friends, I would want to have a confab with some of my favorite writers: Tim Powers, James Blaylock, Ian Fleming, Philip K. Dick, and probably Harlan Ellison. The question is, would they bother to come? Well, it would be a pretty stilted conversation, anyway! But I’d enjoy it…
August 2, 2015
Wolf's Trap by W.D. Gagliani
In Wolf’s Trap, Nick Lupo is a homicide detective and a werewolf, two things that one don’t necessarily go together, but certainly an interesting combination. As you might expect, Nick has a tortured past. Some of the things he did continue to haunt him as he adjusts to his dual nature. Most notably of the things that haunt him is inadvertently killing Caroline Stewart while in wolf form when he was college. She was both his professor and lover. Now, years later, her brother, Martin, a crazed serial killer, is stalking Nick in a quest to avenge his sister. In reality, he’s so demented that revenge is only a small part of his deal. He starts off by killing Nick’s neighbor and sending him messages, then continues to kill those around Nick.
I liked the chase between Lupo and the killer. It was a two-sided chase as Lupo tries to hunt down and arrest or kill Martin, while Martin is doing his best to implement psychological warfare on the werewolf/detective. Lupo is a well-developed character with lots of nuances. There was a duality to his character as he straddled two worlds. The one aspect of the novel that I didn’t like was that Martin and some of the other villain characters weren’t as well-developed and lacked believability. There was good action, a well-developed story line, and good drama. For horror fans, this novel is well-worth reading, and I look forward to reading more Nick Lupo stories in the future.
I liked the chase between Lupo and the killer. It was a two-sided chase as Lupo tries to hunt down and arrest or kill Martin, while Martin is doing his best to implement psychological warfare on the werewolf/detective. Lupo is a well-developed character with lots of nuances. There was a duality to his character as he straddled two worlds. The one aspect of the novel that I didn’t like was that Martin and some of the other villain characters weren’t as well-developed and lacked believability. There was good action, a well-developed story line, and good drama. For horror fans, this novel is well-worth reading, and I look forward to reading more Nick Lupo stories in the future.
July 30, 2015
A Feast for Crows by George R.R. Martin
Having thoroughly enjoyed the previous three novels in A Song of Fire and Ice as well as HBO’s Game of Thrones, I was thoroughly looking forward to reading this, and was also disappointed when I was finished. Whereas Martin’s previous novels were tight, and loaded with drama and intrigue, this one was horribly long-winded and overwritten. There were pages and pages of useless information about characters that are irrelevant. The whole saga of the Greyjoys and the men of the Iron Islands was not terribly interesting and could have been entirely cut. Even among the characters that I enjoy, the storylines involving Brienne and Jaimie Lannister seemed pointless.
Martin at this point is a victim of his own success. His series is so wildly popular that he is at the point that he can write whatever he wants and people will buy it. However, what he really needed in this book was an editor who was willing to hack and slash all of the irrelevant stuff, which was about a third of a book. This book wasn’t terrible. The writing is still good and some of the story lines are interesting, this was clearly the worst of the books I’ve read in the series. I can only hope that in future novels, stronger editing will be employed. For the first time, I can say that the television show is superior to the book.
Martin at this point is a victim of his own success. His series is so wildly popular that he is at the point that he can write whatever he wants and people will buy it. However, what he really needed in this book was an editor who was willing to hack and slash all of the irrelevant stuff, which was about a third of a book. This book wasn’t terrible. The writing is still good and some of the story lines are interesting, this was clearly the worst of the books I’ve read in the series. I can only hope that in future novels, stronger editing will be employed. For the first time, I can say that the television show is superior to the book.
July 25, 2015
Movie Review: Ant-Man
Ant-Man reminds me in many ways of last year’s Marvel release Guardians of the Galaxy—a sleeper movie with lesser known characters that was a very pleasant surprise. Although not quite as enjoyable as Guardians, it was a terrific movie. For starters, it has a really great cast with Michael Douglass as Hank Pym, the original Ant-Man, Paul Rudd as the thief turned new Ant-Man, Evangeline Lilly as Hank’s feisty and capable daughter, and Corey Stoll as the villain. The casting and acting in this movie were both very strong.
Unlike Age of Ultron, this move was light and funny. The plot was intelligent and well-conceived. I liked Ant-Man’s journey from thief to superhero. I especially enjoyed the part where he is training with his ants to become a superhero. These were some of the funniest aspects of the film. The CGI and effects were cool, especially when Scott goes from normal human size to ant size. Another neat thing the movie did was show the utter devastation that was happening when Scott was ant size and the corresponding event occurring in real life size. The dialogue was witty. About the only negative thing I can say about the movie is that the sequence at the very end was a bit confusing and lacked believability. Otherwise, this movie was top notch. Take your family to see this movie. This is one that you will want to watch.
Unlike Age of Ultron, this move was light and funny. The plot was intelligent and well-conceived. I liked Ant-Man’s journey from thief to superhero. I especially enjoyed the part where he is training with his ants to become a superhero. These were some of the funniest aspects of the film. The CGI and effects were cool, especially when Scott goes from normal human size to ant size. Another neat thing the movie did was show the utter devastation that was happening when Scott was ant size and the corresponding event occurring in real life size. The dialogue was witty. About the only negative thing I can say about the movie is that the sequence at the very end was a bit confusing and lacked believability. Otherwise, this movie was top notch. Take your family to see this movie. This is one that you will want to watch.
July 22, 2015
10 Questions with Deborah Bowman
1. How has your disabilities that you have suffered through in your life affected you as a writer?
Wow, just hit me over the head with this upfront! Best to get it out of the way, I guess. On one hand, it didn’t affect me at all when I first started writing. I would have been a writer, regardless. I started writing poetry, music, and song lyrics in grade school. My first poem was published in a 4-H magazine at 12 years old. When my life was changed by SLE (Lupus) and Rheumatoid Arthritis at an early age, it affected my mobility but not my writing. I have stayed current with cutting edge technology and trends in writing and publishing to present fiction that is geared for today’s society, torn straight from the headlines and global Internet instant information.
2. Who has been your biggest influence as a writer?
Definitely, my mother. She was a member of the original Women’s Army Corps (WAC) in WWII. She had studied Journalism for at Kent State in Ohio before the war. The Army utilized her skills. At ninety years young (She runs circles around me!), she is my best critic and editor.
3. What was the inspiration for your Denny Ryder paranormal crime series?
Stroke of Fear!—opener for the series—was originally a short story I wrote many years ago as a catharsis for an actual event that haunted me. The first half or so of the novella is factual information that happened to me. It was totally rewritten in 2013 to make it more action oriented than reflective, based on a suggestion by my mother to write a popular thriller series. I become totally involved in the crusade for missing children. I, of course, changed names, cities, gender, etc. I fictionally created a ghastly ending, but the ending also reflects the feeling of being trapped within your body. I wanted to blend the paranormal dreams, which I believe in because I continue to have them and must block them at times, with the crime investigative angle. The two together can work miracles, but only if the individuals involved are sincere and trust each other explicitly. The remote viewing project in Stroke of Midnight! & Stroke of Silence!—I believe is something that exists in many governments, not just the United States. My main motivation is to find the children and get the psychotic serial killers off the street. I write these novellas age/language appropriate for “tweens”/teens and young adults. Children should know what they need to avoid so they don’t become victims, even though the best parents with the most informed, watchful children can be abducted. It is a sad, sick epidemic. The fourth novella in the series is written and should be published in the next couple of weeks—Stroke of Innocence!
4. Who is your favorite writer?
Edgar Allen Poe. I have many favorite writers, but he was the one that influenced me the most. Anyone who could write gruesome passages so that they sound beautiful to the ear and the senses is a genius. I was surprised that I reacted the way I did to his poetry and short stories because of my own sensitivity, but somehow it just works. The cadence of the words and the richness of vocabulary creates a sound like speaking. I want to hear an author or character speak, not just see words on paper.
5. Of the various jobs that you have held, what is the most interesting one?
Fiction author.
6. Is there an overall theme to your writing?
Yes, I write about current and past events that reflect on the future. I believe there is more fact in fiction, especially current fiction, than people realize. If a book isn’t researched and believable, I don’t even finish it. History must be researched diligently as it reflects on current events. My new YA series—Delilah, Astral Investigator Infinity Series, which was just released in February 2015 delves into the past, present, and future. I am also working on a historical fiction full-length novel that was inspired by a hypnotic past-life regression, “Annie’s Story, Blessed with a Gift”. I am a storyteller for all ages.
7. You write in a variety of genres. Which is your favorite?
I actually think my favorite is the one yet to come “Annie’s Story” … historical fiction, which is also a large part of the Delilah, Astral Projection Infinity Series. Both of these books would make excellent screenplays.
8. What made you start writing?
For me to “not write” isn’t an option. My life would not be complete without expressing my feelings and sensitivities in words. It writes itself in my mind, and I have to release it.
9. What is your best quality as a writer?
This is the toughest question to answer. Sustainability and remaining current is what I work at the most. I believe my best quality as a writer, however, is the emotion and realism that bleeds into my fiction. I act out all the dialog and scenes—tears, laughter, silence, hesitation, even dialects, events and responses—to ensure I’m reaching out to my readers with stories that will relate to them, and I am passionately driven to share.
10. If you could invite five people to a dinner party (alive or dead, real or fictional) who would you invite?
• Princess Diana
• Alfred Hitchcock
• Sherlock Holmes
• Ayn Rand
• Charles Dickens
(I’ve changed this numerous times already!)
Wow, just hit me over the head with this upfront! Best to get it out of the way, I guess. On one hand, it didn’t affect me at all when I first started writing. I would have been a writer, regardless. I started writing poetry, music, and song lyrics in grade school. My first poem was published in a 4-H magazine at 12 years old. When my life was changed by SLE (Lupus) and Rheumatoid Arthritis at an early age, it affected my mobility but not my writing. I have stayed current with cutting edge technology and trends in writing and publishing to present fiction that is geared for today’s society, torn straight from the headlines and global Internet instant information.
2. Who has been your biggest influence as a writer?
Definitely, my mother. She was a member of the original Women’s Army Corps (WAC) in WWII. She had studied Journalism for at Kent State in Ohio before the war. The Army utilized her skills. At ninety years young (She runs circles around me!), she is my best critic and editor.
3. What was the inspiration for your Denny Ryder paranormal crime series?
Stroke of Fear!—opener for the series—was originally a short story I wrote many years ago as a catharsis for an actual event that haunted me. The first half or so of the novella is factual information that happened to me. It was totally rewritten in 2013 to make it more action oriented than reflective, based on a suggestion by my mother to write a popular thriller series. I become totally involved in the crusade for missing children. I, of course, changed names, cities, gender, etc. I fictionally created a ghastly ending, but the ending also reflects the feeling of being trapped within your body. I wanted to blend the paranormal dreams, which I believe in because I continue to have them and must block them at times, with the crime investigative angle. The two together can work miracles, but only if the individuals involved are sincere and trust each other explicitly. The remote viewing project in Stroke of Midnight! & Stroke of Silence!—I believe is something that exists in many governments, not just the United States. My main motivation is to find the children and get the psychotic serial killers off the street. I write these novellas age/language appropriate for “tweens”/teens and young adults. Children should know what they need to avoid so they don’t become victims, even though the best parents with the most informed, watchful children can be abducted. It is a sad, sick epidemic. The fourth novella in the series is written and should be published in the next couple of weeks—Stroke of Innocence!
4. Who is your favorite writer?
Edgar Allen Poe. I have many favorite writers, but he was the one that influenced me the most. Anyone who could write gruesome passages so that they sound beautiful to the ear and the senses is a genius. I was surprised that I reacted the way I did to his poetry and short stories because of my own sensitivity, but somehow it just works. The cadence of the words and the richness of vocabulary creates a sound like speaking. I want to hear an author or character speak, not just see words on paper.
5. Of the various jobs that you have held, what is the most interesting one?
Fiction author.
6. Is there an overall theme to your writing?
Yes, I write about current and past events that reflect on the future. I believe there is more fact in fiction, especially current fiction, than people realize. If a book isn’t researched and believable, I don’t even finish it. History must be researched diligently as it reflects on current events. My new YA series—Delilah, Astral Investigator Infinity Series, which was just released in February 2015 delves into the past, present, and future. I am also working on a historical fiction full-length novel that was inspired by a hypnotic past-life regression, “Annie’s Story, Blessed with a Gift”. I am a storyteller for all ages.
7. You write in a variety of genres. Which is your favorite?
I actually think my favorite is the one yet to come “Annie’s Story” … historical fiction, which is also a large part of the Delilah, Astral Projection Infinity Series. Both of these books would make excellent screenplays.
8. What made you start writing?
For me to “not write” isn’t an option. My life would not be complete without expressing my feelings and sensitivities in words. It writes itself in my mind, and I have to release it.
9. What is your best quality as a writer?
This is the toughest question to answer. Sustainability and remaining current is what I work at the most. I believe my best quality as a writer, however, is the emotion and realism that bleeds into my fiction. I act out all the dialog and scenes—tears, laughter, silence, hesitation, even dialects, events and responses—to ensure I’m reaching out to my readers with stories that will relate to them, and I am passionately driven to share.
10. If you could invite five people to a dinner party (alive or dead, real or fictional) who would you invite?
• Princess Diana
• Alfred Hitchcock
• Sherlock Holmes
• Ayn Rand
• Charles Dickens
(I’ve changed this numerous times already!)
July 14, 2015
Stroke of Fear by Deborah Bowman
In Stroke of Fear, Denny Ryder has a horrible car accident. Years later, Denny is having dreams of a missing child. Throughout Denny’s life, her dreams come true. She works with Detective Ted Collins in piecing together these dreams of hers. Later, Denny in her dreams comes into contact with a serial killer, who figures into the case of the missing child. All of this affects Denny in a negative way, but she’s determined to use her gift for good.
There was a lot to like in this story. The writing in this story was professional and well-done. The narrative also moves at a quick pace. I enjoyed working through the quandaries that Denny faces in dealing with this gift she has, and ultimately physical toll she has to pay for it. The novella has a strong mystery component to it. Part of the mystery is what is really occurring to Denny in her dreams. Is she really with the killer or is this just a vision that she’s having? My only complaint was that I didn’t think the prologue was really necessary. Make sure to check out this novella.
There was a lot to like in this story. The writing in this story was professional and well-done. The narrative also moves at a quick pace. I enjoyed working through the quandaries that Denny faces in dealing with this gift she has, and ultimately physical toll she has to pay for it. The novella has a strong mystery component to it. Part of the mystery is what is really occurring to Denny in her dreams. Is she really with the killer or is this just a vision that she’s having? My only complaint was that I didn’t think the prologue was really necessary. Make sure to check out this novella.
July 9, 2015
The Mabinogian a guest post by Andrew Richardson
The Mabinogian
I first became fascinated by traditional Welsh tales when I was about six or seven. A storyteller told a few children’s versions in a television programme (Jackanory), and I was captivated by the powerful warlords, beautiful women, and remote locations. All these were woven together to tell stories more subtle than the traditional English and continental fairy tales I was used to.
I found out years later that these stories were a medieval Welsh collection called The Mabinogion. I quickly brought the paperback and devoured them all. My favourite became the story of King Math of Gwynedd, who must keep his foot in the lap of a maiden or he will expire. Despite the unpromising premise, it’s a wonderful tale of power, love, war and intrigue to match anything I’ve ever read.
As a writer, these stories appeal because they lack detail. That provides a golden opportunity to flesh out one-dimensional characters and add sub plots to the stories’ otherwise bare bones. In Math’s story, we’re not even told what Math’s affliction is, or why his foot needs a maiden, giving the writer a golden opportunity to make up something to fit the story’s key part.
That’s why I decided to write King Math’s story, and the novel became ‘The Footholder’s Tale’. I loved being able to make up the characters’ personalities and the reason for the foot holding lark. Because the story was set in an unspecified almost mythical Welsh past, I could even set it at whatever time I liked (I chose Roman Wales).
It was the character of the Footholder, though, that most fascinated me. For a character so central to the story, we know so little about her – only that she is called Goewin, and is a beautiful maiden from an obscure place called Dol Pebin. I could make up any characteristics I liked, and chose to shape the story around her. I made her quiet and shy and somewhat overawed by living with a king. But, I also gave her a quiet determination and a willingness to stand up to bullying priests and royals. Her character moulded her into the plot I wanted and let me build the novel around her.
Purchase your copy of ‘The Footholder’s Tale’ on Amazon.
I first became fascinated by traditional Welsh tales when I was about six or seven. A storyteller told a few children’s versions in a television programme (Jackanory), and I was captivated by the powerful warlords, beautiful women, and remote locations. All these were woven together to tell stories more subtle than the traditional English and continental fairy tales I was used to.
I found out years later that these stories were a medieval Welsh collection called The Mabinogion. I quickly brought the paperback and devoured them all. My favourite became the story of King Math of Gwynedd, who must keep his foot in the lap of a maiden or he will expire. Despite the unpromising premise, it’s a wonderful tale of power, love, war and intrigue to match anything I’ve ever read.
As a writer, these stories appeal because they lack detail. That provides a golden opportunity to flesh out one-dimensional characters and add sub plots to the stories’ otherwise bare bones. In Math’s story, we’re not even told what Math’s affliction is, or why his foot needs a maiden, giving the writer a golden opportunity to make up something to fit the story’s key part.
That’s why I decided to write King Math’s story, and the novel became ‘The Footholder’s Tale’. I loved being able to make up the characters’ personalities and the reason for the foot holding lark. Because the story was set in an unspecified almost mythical Welsh past, I could even set it at whatever time I liked (I chose Roman Wales).
It was the character of the Footholder, though, that most fascinated me. For a character so central to the story, we know so little about her – only that she is called Goewin, and is a beautiful maiden from an obscure place called Dol Pebin. I could make up any characteristics I liked, and chose to shape the story around her. I made her quiet and shy and somewhat overawed by living with a king. But, I also gave her a quiet determination and a willingness to stand up to bullying priests and royals. Her character moulded her into the plot I wanted and let me build the novel around her.
Purchase your copy of ‘The Footholder’s Tale’ on Amazon.
July 5, 2015
10 Questions with Mark Onspaugh
1. What made you choose a Native American backdrop for your novel The Faceless One?
One, I am part Native American, Cherokee and Creek on my mother's side. The other inspiration was from a photo. I was leafing through Time Life's Mysteries of the Unknown, looking for story ideas. I saw a Tlingit bear mask and found it very compelling. The story just seemed to just pour out of me after that - I wrote it on lunch hours at my job (sometimes those lunch hours lasted an hour and a half). It really was like the story just bloomed in my head and I harvested it - something that (so far) hasn't happened since.
2. Who has been your biggest influence as a writer?
I've had several. My father was a writer - he wrote teleplays and short stories. He collaborated with Fredric Brown and actually got a story in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction in 1965. That showed me that a real person, as it were, could write and sell work. After that, I devoured everything Ray Bradbury wrote, then Stephen King - no one has an imagination or gift for character like King. For my science fiction, Robert Sheckley is my biggest influence.
3. What do you prefer to write: short stories, novels, or screen plays and why?
All forms have their charms, but I found that writing lots of scripts over a period of several years hampered my prose. You tend to economize too much on description when you switch from scripts to prose, something I had to unlearn. At first I was terrified of writing a novel, which seemed akin to wrestling an octopus. I have three under my belt, now, and have learned something valuable each time.
4. What current writing projects are you working on?
I just finished a kaiju novel for Severed Press called Kua'Mau, Kaiju Mother of Wrath. I'm currently writing a book for Hydra, the new imprint of Penguin Random House. It's sequel to The Faceless One, one that will take Jimmy and George to the deep South and give more of George's back story. After that, I am writing a sort of vampire-creature novel for Severed Press.
5. Out of all of the characters in The Faceless One, who do you most personally identify with?
I've heard all characters are reflections of aspects of the author, which does make sense. (Paging Dr. Freud!) I think the two that are the most "me," though, are Jimmy Kalmaku and George Watters - both in their humor, their struggles and their loneliness. It's funny, they started as side characters who would be in one or two chapters. The Slater family were supposed to be the main characters, but Jimmy and George took over!
6. What type of scenes do you most enjoy writing?
I love trying to scare myself, or at least create an aspect of dread - tapping into my fears and putting them on the page. If I'm glad the lights are on or am startled by a sound or one of our cats, I know that scene will probably scare my readers. I also love writing humorous scenes and those that are just heart-breaking.
7. Describe your experiences as a Hollywood makeup artist and how does that influence your writing?
I was always interested in horror makeup since I was a kid, but never thought of it as something you could do as a career. Then I read an article about Rob Bottin, the genius behind The Howling (1981) and The Thing (1982), and how he started as teen. I was no teen, but I was inspired. I took a couple of courses in stage makeup at a local college - this was a great start because they covered the basics: highlight and shadow, beauty, old age, effects. Once I had a portfolio of sculptures compiled, I wrote to Rob, hoping he'd need an apprentice. That didn't happen, but we became friends and I got to work as a puppeteer on an episode of Amazing Stories. I took courses with Tom Burman, who did amazing work on The Island of Dr. Moreau (1977), Cat People (1982) and The Beast Within (1982). Through Tom I also met Rick Baker, who is arguably the greatest person working in makeup today. Meeting all these amazing artists inspired me to hone my sculpting skills, something very necessary to make monsters... But I wasn't very good and was impatient to be accomplished overnight. I realized I was a much better writer than makeup effects artist, although my experiences added to my internal "file" of horrific and fantastic images. I told Rob that, as a makeup artist I would be creating one aspect of the film - as the writer, I would create the entire world. "Sounds like you have a god complex," he told me - I guess all writers do. I will add that I've since written a screenplay called The Hatch, in which I created a new creature, based on both my makeup training and my many years of reading science fiction. I think it would make a hell of a creature feature!
8. What made you want to start writing horror?
I actually wanted to write science fiction, which was my first love. But I was afraid I might not create a world that "worked." I had read a lot of horror as well and decided I might be better taking the everyday world and putting something horrific and dreadful in it. I've gotten more confident in SF (I have a collection of stories out called Tales from Tomorrow) and hope to work in that genre novel-wise.
9. What is your best quality as a writer?
I would say my imagination. I also have a sense of humor and a great deal of compassion, which is useful in creating characters.
10. If you could invite five people to a dinner party (alive or dead, real or fictional) who would you invite?
This is a really tough question, and I thought about it for a couple of days. I decided I would want good storytellers. I mean, I would be thrilled to meet Superman, Batman or James Bond, but wasn't sure how good they would be at telling stories. So, assuming those that died would appear in their prime, I would pick Ray Bradbury (I saw him speak several times and he is, of course, a marvelous storyteller), Stephen King (someone I always wanted to meet), Jon Stewart of The Daily Show (one of the smartest, funniest people on the planet), Vincent Price (you know he'd have great stories!) and, (cheating a bit, numbers-wise), Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, my favorite comedy team of all time. But I'd have to say, if I could have dinner with my wife and our folks (all of whom passed before their time), that would be wonderful, especially since I never had a chance to meet Tobey's parents.
Thanks for inviting me to your blog, Carl!
One, I am part Native American, Cherokee and Creek on my mother's side. The other inspiration was from a photo. I was leafing through Time Life's Mysteries of the Unknown, looking for story ideas. I saw a Tlingit bear mask and found it very compelling. The story just seemed to just pour out of me after that - I wrote it on lunch hours at my job (sometimes those lunch hours lasted an hour and a half). It really was like the story just bloomed in my head and I harvested it - something that (so far) hasn't happened since.
2. Who has been your biggest influence as a writer?
I've had several. My father was a writer - he wrote teleplays and short stories. He collaborated with Fredric Brown and actually got a story in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction in 1965. That showed me that a real person, as it were, could write and sell work. After that, I devoured everything Ray Bradbury wrote, then Stephen King - no one has an imagination or gift for character like King. For my science fiction, Robert Sheckley is my biggest influence.
3. What do you prefer to write: short stories, novels, or screen plays and why?
All forms have their charms, but I found that writing lots of scripts over a period of several years hampered my prose. You tend to economize too much on description when you switch from scripts to prose, something I had to unlearn. At first I was terrified of writing a novel, which seemed akin to wrestling an octopus. I have three under my belt, now, and have learned something valuable each time.
4. What current writing projects are you working on?
I just finished a kaiju novel for Severed Press called Kua'Mau, Kaiju Mother of Wrath. I'm currently writing a book for Hydra, the new imprint of Penguin Random House. It's sequel to The Faceless One, one that will take Jimmy and George to the deep South and give more of George's back story. After that, I am writing a sort of vampire-creature novel for Severed Press.
5. Out of all of the characters in The Faceless One, who do you most personally identify with?
I've heard all characters are reflections of aspects of the author, which does make sense. (Paging Dr. Freud!) I think the two that are the most "me," though, are Jimmy Kalmaku and George Watters - both in their humor, their struggles and their loneliness. It's funny, they started as side characters who would be in one or two chapters. The Slater family were supposed to be the main characters, but Jimmy and George took over!
6. What type of scenes do you most enjoy writing?
I love trying to scare myself, or at least create an aspect of dread - tapping into my fears and putting them on the page. If I'm glad the lights are on or am startled by a sound or one of our cats, I know that scene will probably scare my readers. I also love writing humorous scenes and those that are just heart-breaking.
7. Describe your experiences as a Hollywood makeup artist and how does that influence your writing?
I was always interested in horror makeup since I was a kid, but never thought of it as something you could do as a career. Then I read an article about Rob Bottin, the genius behind The Howling (1981) and The Thing (1982), and how he started as teen. I was no teen, but I was inspired. I took a couple of courses in stage makeup at a local college - this was a great start because they covered the basics: highlight and shadow, beauty, old age, effects. Once I had a portfolio of sculptures compiled, I wrote to Rob, hoping he'd need an apprentice. That didn't happen, but we became friends and I got to work as a puppeteer on an episode of Amazing Stories. I took courses with Tom Burman, who did amazing work on The Island of Dr. Moreau (1977), Cat People (1982) and The Beast Within (1982). Through Tom I also met Rick Baker, who is arguably the greatest person working in makeup today. Meeting all these amazing artists inspired me to hone my sculpting skills, something very necessary to make monsters... But I wasn't very good and was impatient to be accomplished overnight. I realized I was a much better writer than makeup effects artist, although my experiences added to my internal "file" of horrific and fantastic images. I told Rob that, as a makeup artist I would be creating one aspect of the film - as the writer, I would create the entire world. "Sounds like you have a god complex," he told me - I guess all writers do. I will add that I've since written a screenplay called The Hatch, in which I created a new creature, based on both my makeup training and my many years of reading science fiction. I think it would make a hell of a creature feature!
8. What made you want to start writing horror?
I actually wanted to write science fiction, which was my first love. But I was afraid I might not create a world that "worked." I had read a lot of horror as well and decided I might be better taking the everyday world and putting something horrific and dreadful in it. I've gotten more confident in SF (I have a collection of stories out called Tales from Tomorrow) and hope to work in that genre novel-wise.
9. What is your best quality as a writer?
I would say my imagination. I also have a sense of humor and a great deal of compassion, which is useful in creating characters.
10. If you could invite five people to a dinner party (alive or dead, real or fictional) who would you invite?
This is a really tough question, and I thought about it for a couple of days. I decided I would want good storytellers. I mean, I would be thrilled to meet Superman, Batman or James Bond, but wasn't sure how good they would be at telling stories. So, assuming those that died would appear in their prime, I would pick Ray Bradbury (I saw him speak several times and he is, of course, a marvelous storyteller), Stephen King (someone I always wanted to meet), Jon Stewart of The Daily Show (one of the smartest, funniest people on the planet), Vincent Price (you know he'd have great stories!) and, (cheating a bit, numbers-wise), Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, my favorite comedy team of all time. But I'd have to say, if I could have dinner with my wife and our folks (all of whom passed before their time), that would be wonderful, especially since I never had a chance to meet Tobey's parents.
Thanks for inviting me to your blog, Carl!
July 2, 2015
The Faceless One by Mark Onspaugh
The Faceless One is a horror novel that is steeped in Native American legend, most of it surrounding old gods, one of which is The Faceless One, an evil entity that is seeking a human to enter the world and wreak havoc and destruction. When Jimmy Kalamaku was a boy he had an encounter with the Faceless One. Now that he is an old man, he is being called by the Raven, a trickster god who has humanity’s best interest in his heart, to defeat the Faceless One. The mask that was holding this ancient deity was found in a geological expedition. It is up to Jimmy, his friend George from his retirement home, Stan Roberts, a New York detective who falls captive to the Faceless One, and the family of the archaeologist who uncovered the mask to defeat him and send him permanently into remission.
In Mark Onspaugh’s debut novel, he showed the skills and talents of a seasoned veteran. He did a good of creating mood, starting with the setting of a small village in Alaska. I don’t often read much fiction centered around Native American mythos, so this was a refreshing trope. There was some good horrific stuff in this novel, although most of the violence happens off screen, so even the squeamish shouldn’t have a problem reading this. The characters were strong and well-developed. My only complaint was that there were some slow spots in the novel. All in all this was a delightful horror novel that I would recommend reading.
In Mark Onspaugh’s debut novel, he showed the skills and talents of a seasoned veteran. He did a good of creating mood, starting with the setting of a small village in Alaska. I don’t often read much fiction centered around Native American mythos, so this was a refreshing trope. There was some good horrific stuff in this novel, although most of the violence happens off screen, so even the squeamish shouldn’t have a problem reading this. The characters were strong and well-developed. My only complaint was that there were some slow spots in the novel. All in all this was a delightful horror novel that I would recommend reading.
