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#moe lester
ratlovestwilight · 2 years
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I was looking for second-hand embarassment but found this
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jeena-says-hi · 1 year
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Too many of them are smart
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astralbondpro · 1 year
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Fargo // S01E01: The Crocodile's Dilemma
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Another awful name for an OC: Holden Cox.
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imeverywoman420 · 2 years
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“Virtue signaling abt hating pedophiles is weird because everyone hates pedophiles”
Um. No. The world at large is very much pro pedophilia. Whether its families that cover up for Uncle Moe Lester, child brides, men on social media that claim 18 year old girls are peak fertility, the “MAP” movement etc, its in fact not “virtue signaling” to hate pedophiles
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roomwithavoid · 9 months
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btw call me a killjoy for this if you want but if you have a fucked up inappropriate nickname in splatoon i WILL report you for it. it’s not funny to name yourself “moe lester.” kids deserve to have safe spaces online.
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brandtner · 4 months
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serbia the moe lester
Anon you know god damn well every single one of those Yugotan men did their part sometime during history. But
Glad vukism has been declining since 2018. Very overrated.
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Jerome Horwitz, famous for playing CURLY in "THE THREE STOOGES," was known to all as a protector of dogs.
Curly's contract with Columbia Pictures included a clause that allowed his dogs to accompany him on the studio lot.
Columbia limited it to no more than two dogs at a time, due to the puppies' unplanned on-camera appearances from time to time.
You can still see those surprise dog on set invasions in the first few short films.
Typically surrounded by various dogs, Curly was known to come home with a stray dog and foster it until he could find it a permanent home.
When the Stooges were out on the road, Curly took it upon himself to find a new home for at least one stray dog in every town they visited.
Curly is estimated to have saved and rescued more than 5,000 dogs in his lifetime.
This makes him a man ahead of his time, with a very admirable concern for man's best friend. ❤
Jerome Lester Horwitz (October 22, 1903 – January 18, 1952), known professionally as Curly Howard, was an American comedian and actor.
He was best known as a member of the American comedy team the Three Stooges, which also featured his elder brothers Moe and Shemp Howard and actor Larry Fine. In early shorts, he was billed as Curley.
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lonerslothful · 10 months
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top 10 funniest succession moments when willa calls lester "moe" to his face and connor has to awkwardly explain to her that that is not in fact a normal nickname
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unorthodoxsavvy · 2 years
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The X-Philes: Chapter 4
Phil is a psychic. Dan is a detective. When Phil is visited by the ghost of his brother, he knows something isn't right. Can he and Dan solve the case, or will they become the next victims?
Rating: M
For Moe, who always believed I was a writer at heart. May 1941-May 2022
“It’s three thirty in the morning-”
Phil barged his way past Dan into his room.
“Someone’s here,” Phil repeated. 
Dan looked around. “Who? Where?”
“A spirit,” Phil clarified, making a beeline for the desk. He grabbed the hotel pen and notepad.
“Oh, a spirit,” Dan repeated in a sarcastic “of course” tone.
Phil didn’t respond.
“Do you know who it is,” Dan asked, playing along with whatever Phil was doing.
“No, but they’re trying to tell me something… tell you something…” Phil’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Here, take it,” Phil insisted, thrusting the pen and notepad towards Dan.
“I don’t want it!” Dan shoved away Phil’s hands.
“They want to talk to you!” Phil reiterated, bringing his hands back in front of him.
“Great, tell them I said no.” Dan shoved Phil’s hands away again.
Phil gripped the notebook and pen tighter, clutching them to his chest.
“I don’t know how much information I’m going to get out of them,” Phil stated firmly.
“I don’t care,” Dan stared at Phil’s wide eyes, making sure Phil knew he was serious.
Phil’s face fell for a second before becoming stiff. His eyes took on a glassy look, staring straight ahead, as if he was looking through Dan, and his hand moved across the pad stiffly, almost as if it wasn’t of his own accord.
Just as quickly as it came, whatever it was, it went.
Phil looked down at the notepad.
73
“Does this mean anything to you?” Phil asked, turning the pad away from him to show Dan.
“Seventy-three? Does seventy-three mean anything to me?” Dan asked incredulously.
“I told you I didn’t think I would be able to get much-”
“You know what Lester? Just go, okay? Get out of here, go.”
Phil hesitated.
“Out!” Dan’s eyes flashed with anger.
Phil clenched his teeth and looked away, like he was trying not to cry. He returned the notepad and the pen to the table and walked out.
Dan ripped the paper off the pad. He crumpled it up and threw it in the wire waste bin.
“Seventy-three,” he repeated to himself spitefully. 
He got a drink of water, used the bathroom, and then crawled back into the motel bed.
*-*-*-*-*
Phil woke up to a pounding on his door.
This time it was Dan standing outside his motel room.
“Breakfast is downstairs and then we’re going,” Dan informed him before turning away to swipe his key card to his own room.
“Where are we going?” Phil asked, rubbing a fist in his eye.
“You have half an hour.”
Dan shut the door behind him.
“Alright then, keep your secrets,” Phil quoted under his breath.
He closed his own motel door and made his way over to his suitcase which was laid out on the desk. 
He grabbed some clothes and got in the shower.
Down in the breakfast room the motel was serving a variety of things including cereal, bagels, muffins, oatmeal, and more. They had coffee and tiny plastic cups to fill with apple or orange juice.
Phil glanced over the muffins and snickered to himself. He took at step over and grabbed a bagel to put in the toaster.
While he waited he grabbed himself a plastic cup and pressed the button for apple juice. The cup was so small he was able to finish it in two sips.
He threw the cup in the trash, lamenting about plastic waste, and started to make himself a cup of coffee while his bagel toasted.
As the pot was brewing he heard the toaster go off, and from the corner of his eye he watched as his bagels magically appeared.
He placed a paper plate down in front of the toaster and grabbed each half, dropping them swiftly.
Individual cups of cream cheese were available in a basket next to the bagel display. Phil grabbed two and a plastic knife and placed them on top of the bagel.
The pot finished spitting out its drink and Phil grabbed a heat-resistant cup to pour his coffee in, adding the cream and sugar that were also provided to him.
Phil sat at an empty table and stirred his coffee, letting to cool off while he peeled back the coverings on the cream cheese and dipped his knife in, spreading it around. 
Personally, he felt like plastic knives were basically useless, but he understood their purpose here. In all honesty they reminded him of school meals growing up. His mom, however, had always kept a durable plastic knife that she’d use to cut brownies with. She said they cut better with plastic than with metal. He’d never bothered to try.
Phil took a sip of his coffee and a bite of his bagel when Dan sat down at the table in the seat across from him.
“Are you almost ready to go?”
Phil stared at him over the top of his bagel.
“No?” Phil answered, mouth full of bread and cream cheese.
“Okay, well, hurry up,” Dan ordered, getting up from the table.
Phil turned to watch him walk away.
“You know, I really don’t feel like going to the hospital again,” he implied, but Dan was already out of ear shot.
Phil huffed and turned back to his food, taking care to eat slowly and carefully, as everyone should in his opinion.
When he was done he got up to throw away his empty cup and plate. Dan once again appeared.
“Can I at least brush my teeth?”
“No, now let’s go.”
*-*-*-*-*
“Did you become a detective because you wanted to find your dad?” Phil asked as they drove. 
Dan didn’t answer.
“That’s where we’re going, isn’t it? To see your dad.”
Dan still didn’t answer, so Phil pulled his phone and earbuds out if his pocket to listen to his music.
The drive to the graveyard wasn’t a long on, and before Phil expected to they had arrived.
It was a hilly graveyard with winding paved roads reaching different areas of the grounds. Headstones of all shapes and sizes broke up the landscape as did scattered trees, fountains, and mausoleums. It was a nice place for a final rest.
Dan parked the car along one of these paved pathways and got out. Phil paused his music and pulled his earbuds out before climbing out of the car as well. He moved to the grass on the side of the path, waiting for Dan to come around to his side of the car.
“Stay back,” Dan ordered, making his way over to his father’s gravesite. It wasn’t really a grave, though, not really. There was no body buried there, after all.
Phil put his earbuds back in and sat on the curb. The feeling in the cemetery was potent, but it was peaceful. Phil tried his best to close himself off from the other side. He didn’t make a habit of visiting graveyards and when he did, he kept to himself, not wanting to disturb any resting, lingering spirits. He didn’t want any more to do with the other side right now, not after what had taken place last night.
Phil looked up to see Dan approaching him. He paused his music and took out his earbuds, wrapping the cord around his phone.
Dan sat next to him in silence, like he was hesitant to bring something up. 
Phil waited patiently.
“Would you know,” he finally asked, “if he was still alive or not?”
Phil looked to the headstone that Dan had come from.
“Yes.”
Dan looked up at the gravestone.
“Do you mind?” Phil asked. Dan shook his head.
“Do you want to know?” Phil asked.
“I don’t know.”
Phil took his phone out of his pocket and left it next to Dan while he stood up and walked slowly, deliberately, towards Dr. Howell’s headstone. When he was standing right in front of it he stopped and reached out. He placed the palm of his hand atop the stone. He felt nothing.
Phil retracted his hand and retraced his steps back to Dan.
“Do you have your answer?” Dan asked, staring at his boots on the pavement.
“Yes.” 
Dan looked up at Phil.
“Your father is still alive.”
*-*-*-*-*
“I always thought that if the afterlife was real my dad would have reached out to me.”
Phil looked over at Dan driving.
“Is that why you’re so against believing in this stuff?” he asked.
“Yeah, it is.”
Phil titled his head. “Now what do you believe?”
“I don’t know.”
Phil turned to look out the front windshield.
“I can find him, you know,” Phil said quietly.
Dan glazed over at him quickly.
“What do you mean you can find him?” he demanded.
“I’m a psychic. I can try and find your dad.”
Dan stared ahead speechless before quickly slamming on his brakes. Phil shot forward, seatbelt catching him.
“Woah, what the hell Dan?!” Phil yelled.
Dan backed up.
“Seventy-three.”
Phil glanced up at the sign in front of him for exit 73.
“Do you know this place?” Phil asked in a hushed voice.
“My parents used to take me here as a kid.”
Dan pulled off the highway using the exit.
“What’s there?” Phil asked.
“Woods.”
*-*-*-*-*
Dan parked the car on the side of the road and stared deep into the forest.
“Isolated. Private. Do you think this could be where the files are?” Phil asked.
“I don’t know,” Dan replied and started walking into the woods.
Phil followed him in.
They walked for about 45 minutes listening to the sound of birds chirping overhead and squirrels rustling in the brush until Phil stopped. Noticing the lack of leaf litter crunching behind him, Dan stopped and turned.
“What is it?”
“There’s something here,” Phil replied. “I think we’re close to whatever we’re looking for.”
Phil started walking again slowly, leading the way, hands out in front of him and eyes closed. To Dan, Phil looked like he was impersonating a mummy.
Phil raised a foot to take another step and hesitated.
“Here.”
His eyes shot open.
Phil hunched down and started to gently brush away the leaf litter, then frantically started pawing at the dirt just like he had in Martyn’s backyard.
Phil dug and dug and dug and Dan was sure he wasn’t going to find anything until-
There.
A trap door.
Phil looked up at Dan, dirt smudged on his face from where he’d wiped away the sweat from his brow.
Dan stared down at Phil and then moved his eyes to the trap door.
The door was made from aluminum, and didn’t have a lock on it. Phil was able to grab it by the handle and open it up to his right. Below him was a ladder leading into darkness.
Phil looked back up at Dan.
“Brawn first,” he smiled, gesturing to the hole in the ground.
“More like guns first,” Dan smiled back and knelt to start climbing down the ladder.
“Well whatever you are, you certainly aren’t the brains,” Phil called down gently.
“Excuse me, I’m the detective.”
“And I’m sure you worked very hard for that position,” Phil assured him.
Dan’s disembodied voice floated up towards Phil. 
“Screw you.”
“Is that the best you could come up with?” Phil asked, more to himself than to Dan, and started climbing down the ladder as well.
“I hit the bottom,” Dan announced.
“You hit rock bottom?” Phil joked softly.
“I hit rock bottom the moment you walked into my station.”
“Ouch.”
Phil jumped when he felt a hand reach out and touch his back.
“You’re almost there, be careful.”
With his other hand Dan pulled out his phone and turned on its flashlight to help Phil see better.
“Thanks.”
Phil pulled out his phone and turned the flashlight on as well.
“Do you really think those missing files are down here?” Dan asked.
“I do,” Phil insisted.
Dan sighed. “How am I supposed to justify this in my report?” he asked rhetorically.
The room was larger than Phil had expected, like an underground bunker.
“What do you think this was originally used for?” Phil asked, shining his flashlight on a row of filing cabinets shoved up against the wall in front of them.
“I don’t know,” Dan said, making his way over to one of them.
He opened up a drawer. 
“For someone who wanted this information to be kept hidden, they sure didn’t take a lot of measures to secure it,” Dan pondered, flicking through the file folders.
“Hiking through the woods for forty-five minutes and digging up this trap door isn’t secure enough to you?” Phil asked incredulously.
“How hard is it to place a padlock on the trap door and lock these filing cabinets? They come with locks and keys when you buy them,” Dan countered. “How did they even get them down here anyway?”
“Probably the same way we got down here. What are you finding?”
“Well, these are the patient files alright,” Dan turned to look at Phil over his shoulder.
“What about the rest of the drawers?” Phil asked.
Dan huffed. “I don’t know, why don’t you start trying to open them and see, Wonder Boy.”
“That’s Boy Wonder to you,” Phil chuckled and moved a few filing cabinets down from Dan and opened a drawer at chest level.
“What do you see?” Dan asked, face still buried in his own drawer.
Phil looked back down and pushed all the files as far back into the drawer as he could, reading the first label. There was a name on it. Behind it was a different file with a different name. Then a third. Then a fourth.
So, these files were information on people. But what kind of information?
Dan took out the four files he’d briefly looked at and sat down on the cold, hard concrete floor with them.
“Make yourself comfy,” Dan joked, but Phil didn’t answer. He spread the files out in a semi-circle around him, picking up the first one and scanning it for key words that he hoped he could come across in the other three files.
It seemed to be some sort of informal employee record, each with a focus on one company: MedLife Corporation. 
Phil assumed that MedLife was the drug company that had supplied the cancer treatment trial to the local hospital, but there wasn’t much information on the corporation itself.
Phil closed the files and stood up, placing them back in the same order in the same drawer, which he left open. Behind him was a table with two chairs. Phil took a seat and Dan carried over a file, placing it on the table in front of Phil before sitting across from him.
“Let’s go over everything we know so far,” Phil suggested.
Dan wasn’t sure what that was, but he dragged a finger up on his screen and pressed the “record” button anyway, flashlight still on.
“Around 1999 there was a drug trail for a new cancer treatment here, but it went horribly wrong, and most if not all of the patients died. This was witnessed by the staff, including both of your parents. My brother was down here for college and looking for legal cases to consult on. Somehow he must have heard about this, even though it wasn’t big enough news to make it to the media. He helped patients file lawsuits against the drug company while they were still alive, but after they all died, it was easy to bury the evidence of something gone so wrong. That’s why your parents and my brother took these patient files, to hide them. They knew the drug company wanted to destroy the evidence they contained. They hid the information down here and started looking into the drug company, MediLife, so they could make a case against them. This company was more powerful than they expected, I think. And then your dad disappeared.”
Phil paused, waiting for Dan’s reaction.
“So you think the company kidnapped my dad because he was getting too close?” Dan asked.
“It tracks, doesn’t it? What better warning sign that to kidnap-”
“The head of the oncology department.”
Phil blinked in surprise. 
“You didn’t tell me that he was the head of the department.”
Dan leaned back in his chair. “Well, what can I say? ‘I kind of have a lot going on right now, so I apologize if some things slip my mind’.”
Phil gritted his teeth.
“So, they kidnap my old man and they do what, exactly, with him?” Dan asked.
“He’s the head of oncology. He could be a big asset to their team, to try and perfect the drug.”
“You think they’re still trying to get it right?” Dan asked, surprised.
“Curing cancer? You can’t put a price tag on that,” Phil insisted.
“You know big pharma will, though,” Dan replied sarcastically.
“Exactly.”
“So what now?” Dan asked.
“It’s around 2000,” Phil started, “The drug trial went really wrong and somehow they’ve managed to keep a lid on it, but they can’t count on being that lucky ever again. They can’t work this in a public hospital, it draws too much attention. So would putting up flyers. And if they keep murdering patients, someone is going to notice- unless you target a demographic that’s overlooked- the homeless. You have an increased chance of getting sick living out on the streets without access to medical care, and that increases your chances of getting really sick, not to mention all the things that have come before being homeless, like fighting in wars overseas and such. So they target the homeless,  and somehow they’re testing the drugs on these people.”
“That’s a great story, and even if it’s true, it leaves a lot of questions unanswered, mainly, where would we even start to look for them?” Dan asked.
“We find your dad,” Phil said.
Dan looked at him.
“We find my dad,” he repeated. 
*-*-*-*-*
“What do you think they do with the bodies?” Phil asked quietly.
Dan glanced over at him from the driver’s seat.
“Whose bodies?”
“The test subjects,” Phil explained, “the ones that don’t make it.” He loathed to call them ‘patients’. If he was right (and he knew, somehow, he was) they didn’t come in with cancer. It was given to them somehow.
Dan glanced back towards the road.
“Fire takes care of a lot of things.”
“Do you think that’s what happened to Martyn?”
Dan whipped his head towards Phil.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? That’s probably what happened to him, right? They brought him to the same old place they burn all the other bodies in, probably cut him up before hand to make him fit, maybe ground up his bones so there weren’t any-”
Dan reached his hand around and smacked Phil upside the head.
“Don’t you dare start thinking like that, okay? We’re going to find your brother’s body, and we’re going to give him a proper funeral-”
“Like the one you gave your dad?” Even as Phil was saying it he realized how in the wrong he was. 
Dan clenched his hands on the steering wheel and starred straight ahead, speed steadily picking up.
“Dan, I’m-”
“I oughta toss your ass out the car door and leave you bloody and bruised on the side of the interstate.”
It sounded kind of funny, but Phil didn’t argue. They spent the rest of the car ride in silence.
Dan slammed on his brakes in the parking spot of the motel parking lot when they arrived, narrowly missing the curb.
Phil opened the door slowly and closed it again gently when he climbed out, afraid any sudden movements or loud noises would set Dan off again.
Phil followed behind Dan through the glass doors of them motel lobby and let Dan make his way back up towards their rooms. Dan didn’t pause or turn around even when he noticed Phil was no longer following him.
Instead, Phil squatted in front of the display of brochures advertising local attractions. His favorite one was the Point Pleasant brochure with the shiny statue of Mothman on the front, however he wasn’t looking for tourist attractions. He grabbed a state map up by the top left of the display and carried to back with him to his room.
Phil sat on his bed, map still in hand, and wondered if he should go knocking on Dan’s door. Before he made his decision, though, Dan ended up knocking on his.
“Dan, I-”
“Save it,” Dan said. “Let’s just get whatever this is over with.”
Phil moved to the desk and spread the map out.
“I need your knife.”
Dan didn’t bother to ask how Phil knew he had a knife in his boot, but he took it out anyway, unfolding the blade and handing the hilt to Phil.
“Now I need you.”
“Geez, take a guy out to dinner first,” Dan muttered, coming closer.
“He already took me out,” Phil mumbled, still staring down at the map. “We had pizza.”
Phil grabbed Dan’s hand and flipped his palm up to face him. Before Dan could react, Phil slid the blade over the tip of Dan’s finger and flipped his palm back face-down so the blood dripped onto the map.
Dan yanked his hand back and clenched his fist.
“You’re going to make it bleed more if you do that,” Phil mentioned, eyes closed and hands outreached over the map.
Dan went into Phil’s motel bathroom and looked around for something to stop the bleeding. Unfortunately, he couldn’t find any paper towels, so a pristine, white facecloth it was.
Dan returned back to the desk where Phil was now hunched over, hands spread on either side of the map.
“It didn’t work,” he told Dan bitterly.
Dan looked down at the map.
“What’s it supposed to do?” he asked.
Phil backed up and hopped up onto the end of the bed.
“You and your dad share blood, and I can use that connection to find where he is on the map, but nothing came up.” Phil looked defeated.
“Well, how do we know he’s in West Virginia?” Dan asked.
Phil looked up at him and was quiet for a moment.
“We don’t,” he realized.
“So maybe that’s why it didn’t work.”
Phil was nodding. 
“You’re right, you’re right- we need a bigger map of the whole country.” Phil’s face lit up. “When I was younger, they had maps on the back of the menus at Cracker Barrel!”
“First of all, I don’t know if they do that anymore, and second of all, I’m pretty sure you just want an excuse to go to Cracker Barrel.”
“I’m hungry,” Phil pouted.
Dan sighed.
“Get your things.”
“We’re going to Cracker Barrel?” Phil beamed.
“No, we’re going to Walmart. They have a Subway.”
*-*-*-*-*
Phil pushed the carriage down the isles. Dan had initially pulled it out from the corral they were stored in, but Phil had asked if he could steer the cart. Dan had sighed, and agreed. Phil had smiled, and started pushing the cart further into the store.
They located a map of the world with the help of an employee and Dan lifted it off the rack and placed it into the cart.
“Thirty dollars? Jesus-”
“It has all the state capitals and major highways,” Phil explained.
“I know it does, but why can’t we just have a basic map for ten dollars?”
“Because how are kids going to learn the state capitals that way?” Phil asked.
Dan co-opted the cart from Phil. “I think they’ll manage.”
Phil grabbed on to the cart’s handles as well, placing his fists next to Dan’s. Dan let go and gave Phil control of the cart once again.
“Oh!”
Phil turned down the board game isle, looking up and down the shelves intensely.
“Got it!”
Phil grabbed a ouija board.
“What are you doing?” Dan exclaimed in a hushed voice. “Put that back!”
“But I need it,” Phil said.
“Put. It. Back.” Dan repeated sternly.
Phil moved to put it in the cart but Dan grabbed the other side of it before Phil could make it.
“Give,” Dan tugged.
“No!” Phil tugged back.
“You don’t need a ouija board!”
“I have my own money!” Phil tugged again.
Dan looked over Phil’s shoulder at a mother and her son who were staring at the two grown men. The mother took her son’s hand and quickly led him away. 
“What are you looking at?” Phil turned to look behind him and Dan used the opportunity to give a swift tug. The box fell between them and the board and planchette spilled out, clattering on the tile floor.
Dan took many steps back.
“Disarm that thing.”
“‘Disarm that thing’? It’s not a bomb, Dan.”
“Just shut up and shut whatever portal you just opened and put the damn box back on the shelf.”
“That I opened? First of all, you’re the one who dropped it, and second of all, that’s not how it works at all.”
Phil squatted to the floor and started putting the board and planchette back into the box.
“Leave that thing here,” Dan ordered.
“Fine,” Phil said, returning the box to the shelf. “I’ll just make my own back at the hotel.”
*-*-*-*-*
Back at the hotel, Phil did not make his own ouija board. Instead, they had once again spread the map out onto the desk in Phil’s motel room. Phil was quietly praying it would work this time.
“Hand,” he ordered.
Reluctantly Dan pulled the bandaid he’d applied off his pinkie finger and handed it back to Phil, tucking the used bandaid into his jeans pocket. Dan’s hands were rough and calloused, even though he was around the same age as Phil. He wondered how they got that way, but he didn’t bother to ask. It didn’t seem like the time or the place- or the right person.
Phil squeezed the tip of Dan’s finger over the map and the cut opened up once more, spilling tiny drops of Dan’s blood onto the laminated surface.
Phil closed his eyes and placed his hands over the map once more.
Dan rolled his eyes after a moment when, unsurprisingly, nothing had happened. He went into the bathroom to run some water over his finger.
When he came back out, Phil was sitting on the edge of the bed in his room.
“So?”
“So?” Phil echoed. “Take a look for yourself,” he gestured towards the map.
Dan walked over to the map, hand wrapped in yet another pristine white face cloth.
The drops of blood had moved.
“Texas?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yeehaw!”
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motionpicturelover · 1 year
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Films I've watched in 2023.
(This list will be continously updated. For last year's list, see this post.)
Click on the title to see the post.
1 - 99
January:
🎬 "Duet for One" (1986) - Andrei Konchalovsky
🎬 "The Shout" (1978) - Jerzy Skolimowski
🎬 A Day in the Death of Joe Egg (1972) - Peter Medak
🎬 "Separate Tables" (1983) - John Schlesinger
🎬 "Much Ado About Nothing" (2019) - Kenny Leon (stage dir.)/David Thorn (TV dir.)
🎬 "Høyfeber" (1965) - Jon Lennart Mjøen
🎬 "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf" (1966) - Mike Nichols
🎬 "Royal Flash" (1975) - Richard Lester
🎬 "Oliver's Travels" (1995) - Giles Foster
🎬 "Dr. M" (1990) - Claude Chabrol
February:
🎬 "Tim Vine Live" (2004)
🎬 "Rett i lomma" (1998) - Runar Borge
🎬 "Underveis" (1968) - Knut M. Hansson
🎬 "Karl" (1962) - Knut Thomassen
🎬 "The Show Must Go Home" (1984)
🎬 "Twigs" (1978) - Toralv Maurstad
🎬 "Det evige spørsmål" (1962) - Per Bronken
🎬 "Dannede mennesker" (1967) - Kirsten Sørlie
🎬 "Tango" (1967) - Per Bronken
🎬 "Bokhandlaren som slutade bada" (1969) - Jarl Kulle
🎬 "Kom tilbake lille Sheba" (1966) - Jan Bull
🎬 "Geografi og kjærlighet" (1973) - Tore Breda Thoresen
🎬 "Den skallete sangerinnen" (1967) - Arne Thomas Olsen
🎬 "Eyes Wide Shut" (1999) - Stanley Kubrick
🎬 "Liv og død" (1980) - Wam&Vennerød
March:
🎬 "I slik en natt" (1958) - Sigval Maartman-Moe
🎬 "Brødrene Dal og Spektralsteinene" (1982)
🎬 "Ung flukt" (1960) - Edith Carlmar
🎬 "Klokker i måneskinn" (1964) - Kåre Bergstrøm
🎬 "Brent jord" (1969) - Knut Andersen
🎬 "Hjemme hos oss" sesong 1 (1979)
🎬 "Falne engler" (1966) - Magne Bleness
🎬 "Hjemme hos oss" sesong 2 (1980)
🎬 "Peer Gynt" (2006) - Bentein Baardson
🎬 "Lily Savage Live and Outrageous" (1995)
April:
🎬 "Papirfuglen" (1984) - Anja Breien
🎬 "Vellykket liv for 3" (1971) - Kirsten Sørlie
🎬 "Muppet Treasure Island" (1996) - Brian Henson
🎬 "Skulle det dukke opp flere lik er det bare å ringe..." (1970) - Knut Bowhim
🎬 "The Avengers" (2012) - Joss Whedon
🎬 "Jag är nyfiken – en film i gult" (1968) - Vilgot Sjöman
🎬 "Peer Gynt" (2019) - Erik Ulfsby
🎬 "Svarte penger, hvite løgner" (2004) - Jarl Emsell Larsen
🎬 "Kodenavn Hunter" season 1 (2007) - Jarl Emsell Larsen
🎬 "Salmer fra kjøkkenet" (2003) - Bent Hamer
May:
🎬 "Kjærlighetens kjøtere" (1995) - Hans Petter Moland
🎬 "The Adventures of Priscilla Queen of the Desert" (1995) - Stephan Elliott
🎬 "Fysikerne" (1988) - Per Bronken
🎬 "Serial Mom" (1994) - John Waters
🎬 "Jeppe på Berget" (1984) - Magne Bleness
🎬 "Looney Tunes: Back in Action" (2003) - Joe Dante
🎬 "It's Love I'm After" (1937) - Archie Mayo
🎬 "Robin Hood: Men in Tights" (1994) - Mel Brooks
🎬 My Cousin Vinny (1992) - Jonathan Lynn
🎬 "Hip Hip Hurra!" (1987) - Kjell Grede
🎬 "Fribillett til Soria Moria" (1984) - Kirsten Sørlie
🎬 "Tolv edsvorne menn" (1981) - Tore Breda Thoresen
🎬 "En annen historie" (1984) - Carl Jørgen Kiønig
June:
🎬 "Herman" (1990) - Erik Gustavson
🎬 "WandaVision" (2021)
🎬 "The Cheap Detective" (1978) - Robert Moore
🎬 "Buddy Buddy" (1981) - Billy Wilder
🎬 "Am I Crazy? My journey to determine if my memories are true (2022 revision)" (2022)
🎬 "Mothers and Molestation: A film about child abuse"
🎬 "Mysteriet Herr Link" (2019) - Chris Butler
🎬 "The Sunshine Boys" (1996) - John Erman
🎬 "Åpen Framtid" (1983) - Svend Wam
July:
🎬 "En passion" (1969) - Ingmar Bergman
🎬 "But I'm a Cheerleader" (1999) - Jamie Babbit
🎬 "Charlies tante" (1995) - Runar Borge
🎬 "Drømmeslottet" (1986) - Wam&Vennerød
🎬 "Adjø solidaritet" (1985) - Wam&Vennerød
🎬 "Small Time Crooks" (2000) - Woody Allen
🎬 "In & Out" (1997) - Frank Oz
🎬 "Mad Max" (1979) - George Miller
🎬 "Presumed Innocent" (1990) - Alan J. Pakula
🎬 "The Addams Family" (1991) - Barry Sonnenfeld
🎬 "Addams Family Values" (1993) - Barry Sonnenfeld
🎬 "Valley of the Dolls" (1967) - Mark Robson
August:
🎬 "Bryllupsfesten" (1989) - Wam&Vennerød
🎬 "Sirkulæret" (1972) - Gerhard Knoop
🎬 "Lille Eyolf" (1983) - Eli Ryg
🎬 "Rosmersholm" (2000) - Terje Mærli
🎬 "Hvem vet –?" (1972) - Sølve Kern
🎬 "Rivalen" (1970) - Hans Dahlin
September:
🎬 Ocean's Eight (2018) - Gary Ross
🎬 "Seks personer søker en forfatter" (1992) - Pål Løkkeberg
🎬 "Over the Garden Wall" (2014)
🎬 "The Country Girl" (1954) - George Seaton
🎬 "Fantastic Mr. Fox" (2009) - Wes Anderson
🎬 "Ofelaš" / "Veiviseren" (1987) - Nils Gaup
🎬 "Salto, salmiakk og kaffe" (2004) - Mona H. Juel
🎬 "Les 12 Travaux d'Astérix" (1976) - Renée Goscinny, Albert Uderzo
🎬 "Av måneskinn gror det ingenting" (1987) - Arild Brinchmann
October:
🎬 "Blind gudinne" (1997) - Carl Jørgen Kiønig
🎬 "Frøken Rosita" (1969) - Per Bronken
🎬 "Tre søstre" (1973) - Sverre Udnæs
🎬 "Alltid noe trist og deprimerende" (1970) - Egil Kolstø
🎬 "Svigerdottera" (1975) - Terje Mærli
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deadcart · 1 month
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moe lester is unstable
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shoddilyconstructed · 4 months
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What a Bargan!!
comedy cosmic horror short(?) story about a normal grocery trip to a store that has incredible deals and incredible amounts of supernatural shit going on.
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"The Super Duper market!!" was probably the worst place in town. It was at one point a warehouse, and it showed, sitting there like a concrete slab plastered with colorful stickers in the middle of the parking lot. The walls were painted the perfect shade of gray to make the entire thing look like a particularly jolly high security prison, and the lack of windows didn't help that effect. Thankfully there was at least a little bit of character added to the walls in the form of a shit ton of graffiti on the wall that was never cleaned up, which helped liven everything up. Without that, all that was there was a small handful of brightly colored stars with slogans that would bring joy to any copyright lawyers driving past, such as "I'm enjoying it!" and "Viva more." The fact that a lawsuit hadn't hit yet was insane, because it was probably free money for whoever was filing it, although it was really up in the air whether or not the store could afford a lawyer.
There was a little back alley behind it, between the back of the store and a wall created to keep whatever shit was going on away from more reputable businesses right next door, like the vape shop and the Scientology center. It had been closed for two weeks after a drug deal there went so bad that five people ended up dead, and when the cops came and investigated they found two completely unrelated, mostly decayed bodies of people who went missing two years ago forty miles away. A week later they found another corpse, this one missing all four limbs and decayed beyond any recognition duct taped to the wall. The body was eventually found to belong to an eight year old cold case three states away. The coroner determined he had been dead for fifteen years. The sign originally had three exclamation marks until the day after opening, when it mysteriously vanished and was found in a bush outside the McDonald's drive through with a massive chunk bitten out of it. A nearby church had a pastor ask that God take away the evil from that store during service. That was the last day that he had been seen. The place was more cursed than a book of summoning rituals covered in blood stains found in the basement of a cabin in the middle of the woods that was an ancient burial ground and the site of multiple gruesome murders.
It was owned by Jonald X Prunkletin, who was infamous for more than just the most bulliable name in all of recorded human history, because at least Moe Lester looked normal at first glance. It didn't help that he was absolutely unhinged. He did have a house, although it mostly sat abandoned. Jonald was a busy man, he didn't have time to go to his house. There were too many gutters to pass out drunk into, too many dumpsters to loot, too many people to try and convert to whatever religion he was trying out that week. Sadly he ran out of time just after opening his magnum opus, his store that he had spent a full month-ish frantically running around in trying to make it work. His corpse was found in a bush in Florida, with both arms having been swapped, his mouth having been stitched into a permanent smile, two empty eye sockets, and a massive bite taken out of his left side. Quite obviously, this was because he made some deal with the devil, or at least some close approximation. Any investor who was willing to invest in a man who his dinner out of the dumpster behind the McDonald's only on special occasions was an investor who wasn't allowed access to a pen, a pencil, or any other sharp objects they could use to sign the paperwork.
Every part of this store seemed to try and keep everybody away from it. But it still managed to deliver great deals. Satan must have a great relationship with the Nestle corporation, but only at this store did it show in any way besides Nestle being an incredibly blunt and comically evil allegory for everything wrong with capitalism that managed to escape a shitty cyberpunk thing into our world. All these unspeakable horrors must've been tight business partners in order to keep the store running with the prices it has. I can get grocery shopping done with fifteen bucks. How the hell do I turn that down? A lot of other people turned it down easily, being scared off by a few inexplicable deaths and a good handful of things that completely go against how the rest of the world works. They're fucking cowards.
I pulled into the completely empty parking lot. This was partially because nobody wanted to come in here for fear of being consumed by an eldritch being, and partially because it was eleven in the morning on a thursday. The sun was trying to beat me to death, maybe in an attempt to keep me from a much worse fate. Wearing a thick sweater probably wasn't helping the matter, making me feel like I was melting, but I was gonna be inside a lot more than outside, so I would be out soon.
The walk isn't particularly far, but it is definitely long enough to make your brain start thinking about the possibility of a violent and painful death being very, very high the closer you get. The building itself gives off a feeling like when you're a kid about to go on a rollercoaster and the right half of your stomach starts doing backflips while the left half does backflips, your breath getting shakier and less consistent as you get closer and closer to the ride car, and there's a big part of your brain screaming at you to just fuck off and ride the teacups fifteen times in a row, but you keep on waiting because it's already been an hour and you want your money's worth. Except here, instead of a fun ride where death is as likely as getting struck by lightning twice in a day and then winning the lottery, you get to buy groceries and probably die horrifically. Most people chicken out before they reach the door, occasionally tearing up as they run back to their car hoping that it hasn't phased through the floor or something.
I fought through my sense of self-preservation, kicking and screaming to get out, which had apparently gotten a lot stronger since it let me try and grab a rattlesnake in a bush without saying anything a month ago. It was more than just that though, it was every part of my unconscious brain yelling at me that the place was obviously evil, and what the fuck did I think I was doing here? It didn't just stand over the parking lot, it loomed, casting a shadow over the entire thing that was completely inconsistent with the position of the sun. That burning heat completely vanished as I reached the double door entrance--they didn't have the budget for automatic doors--and was replaced with a slight chill, like an invisible breeze was flowing straight through my body and playing around with my organs to make me feel sick. I just wanted to leave.
On the other hand, there was my conscious brain, which knew I had twenty dollars total after my paycheck got delayed and a completely empty fridge, who was resigned to this fate. When I came here the first time I figured I could just only come here when I needed to, only to find that it was pretty nice to afford the water and power bills, food, rent, and a few nice things that I just wanted. I can deal with horrors beyond the comprehension of mankind so long as they only come twice a month.
I walked inside, getting immediately blasted by the air conditioner as the doors shut behind me, quietly locking themselves as they did. The only way out was to buy something. It was really dark inside, like it was a medieval dungeon illuminated by torchlight even though it was actually just a bunch of dead lightbulbs nobody had bothered to fix. I squinted through the dimly lit store and fumbled around in the darkness for a minute until my eyes adjusted enough for me to find the shopping carts, which were in a weird corner out of sight from the entrance. It was time to do some shopping.
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rest of story
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keeshon09 · 5 months
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Happy birthday to Jerome Lester Horwitz aka Curly Howard!
October 22, 1903
The little brother of Shemp Howard and Moe Howard
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Came up with the absolute worst name you could give a character: Moe Lester Dickinson.
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imeverywoman420 · 1 year
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You were sooo pretty in those pics when you were 19 and now you’re like a NEET who spamposts on tumblr about Stacy’s pulling giant huge massive eyebrow hairs out of your skull??? What happened. U looked so normal in those pics
i was fucking CRAZYYYYYY like mentally ill + chris chan level autism. my entire life except for when i was like 15-19 cause i put so much effort into learning to be normal and i was no longer living in the same house as Moe Lester and i trained myself to not be autistic. Well to be as not autistic as possible. Like i literally STUDIED normies. I practiced making faces and talking in the mirror. I tried to make sense of the way normies think, their philosophies and stuff. I studied drake lyrics like it was scripture. Trying to figure out their thought processes.
then bad stuff like my dad dying happened and other stuff and it all unraveled and im back to the same me i was when i was 10.
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