The Legend of Henry Luck

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Some people’s life

can be summed up in one little story.

 But for others,

it takes a legend to tell their glory.

 Back in the day,

when the old west was still young –

 the law couldn’t

contain anything under the sun.

 There lived a man,

Henry Luck was his name

 and Wanted Posters

broadcast his fame.

 Most people

avoided him and hid from his shadow

 It was common

knowledge that if he had a foe,

 that enemy

would wind up full of lead.

 and if lucky,

he would only end up dead.

 So many brave

men found no shame to run

 instead of

being caught on the wrong side of Mr. Luck’s gun.

 But even outlaws

can’t outrun time and grow old.

 At least, the

lucky ones do, the others end up lifeless and cold.

 

One summer day

Henry sat in a bar in Wyoming

 He contemplated

his sins and started to have misgivings

 He knew he would

have to account for all the bad he’d done

 For living his

life with a bullet and gun.

 And he tried

to drink his guilt away.

 When he heard that, oh so familiar call asking him to drop all

 and have a

showdown in the street that day.

 Henry downed

the last drop of whiskey

 and yelled out,

“Kid, let me be!”

 And the kid,

mocked ol’ Henry and called him a chicken

 for not coming

out and taking his lickin’

 Henry walked

to the swinging door of the bar

 and said,

“Kid, I’ve been where you are

 looking down

the road you’re going down.

 So trust me

when I say, turn around.

 Turn around

 and run or just walk away.

 It’s not too

 late to save your soul today.

 If you kill me

my friends will hunt you.

 If you kill me

my kin will come after you.

 If you kill me

my enemies will pursue you

 and you will be

their prize and trophy

 as the

murderer of their enemy.

 It’s not a life,

so turn around and walk away

 Find a pretty

wife and settle down and stay.”

 Henry stopped

talking and hoped the kid did hear

 Instead the

kid laughed and asked, “What, are you full of fear?”

 Henry opened

the door and walked to the street

 “All right then,” the kid said, “on the count of ten.”

 The kid stood

straight and shuffled his feet.

 And when he

reached ten he pulled out his revolver

 and pulled the

trigger a bit harder

 and Henry Luck

fell onto his back as if falling into bed.

 The kid wiped his

brow and yelled, “I killed Henry Luck dead!”

 

A month later

the kid was shot by David Crow

 while he slummed

the streets of San Francisco.

 

Back in Wyoming,

as they prepared to bury

 Henry Luck

in the local cemetery

 his casket

broke open and out spilled dirt.

 They say about

two hundred pounds worth

 and one steel plate

with some twine tied to the ends

 and in the

middle a small bullet lodged within.

 

But there was

no body in the coffin that day.

 And this is what

the townspeople did say –

 Both men

received just what they wanted in that shoot out

 The kid did

receive the fame he sought for, no doubt.

 And Henry Luck?

Well, they figure he got to rest in peace

 living up to

his name to a grand old age without worry and in ease.

© 2013 ck’s days

R.I.P.D?

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I’m not a critic.  But I do enjoy going to the movie theater.  I tend to go to a matinee usually by myself.  Despite what popular culture leads us to believe, going to a movie is not really conducive to a date or group setting.  You can’t talk and get to know each other.  And popcorn wreaks havoc on the breath.  So, I like to go alone.

I went to see White House Down a couple of weeks ago.  This movie didn’t make a deep enough impression for me to remember to write a blog about it the following week.  The plot involved something about the President of the United States and some inside baddies with one Channing Tatum to save the day.  Really, that’s enough to know about that one.  But one of the previews before the movie was for R.I.P.D.  That looks really stupid, I thought.

ripd-posterThen the big media push for it came on television the following week.  By opening day my tune changed to, it might be kind of funny.  So, I went to see it Friday afternoon.  I bought my small Dr. Pepper (ah, worth the price of admission right there) and small popcorn (which together cost more than my ticket).

If you are planning on seeing R.I.P.D. please stop reading right now.  Or at least, skip to the very last line.  There will be huge spoilers and I don’t want you upset with me.

About five minutes into the movie I remembered something very important.  Ryan Reynolds bugs me.  I’m sure he is a nice enough guy but I personally don’t think he can act.  He more reacts to the script than anything. I swear every role I’ve seen him in has been the same character.

Oh yeah!  If only I had thought of that sooner I could have saved me some money.  But I did get a Dr. Pepper out of the deal so I was okay with it.

The theater was a little too quiet.  Even during the jokes.  That’s what happens when the funniest parts of a movie are used for the previews.  All in all, it wasn’t a terrible movie and I think it has the potential to grow on me.  You know, when it is relegated to its monthly FX viewing and long after I forget about the previews.  I predict I’ll watch it on television.  And I may even appreciate it.  I think.

The premise is a tricky one.  The main character dies shortly after the opening credits.  He dies after making a very serious error in judgment and before he can rectify the situation.  Yes, he is a good guy and yes, he made a very serious mistake.  But he can use the excuse “the devil made me do it.”  Almost literally.

The winding up scenes made me nervous.  The one thing I don’t like about this type of premise is the forced happy endings.  Oh, the character isn’t really dead.  He’s just sleeping. And now he’s awake and oh – happy day!

Pu-lease!

Or that tender moment when the dead person can speak to the living and gain closure for both.

Pshaw!

In my experience, that veil between life and death is pretty final.  There are no second chances to say what needs to be said.  I just don’t like those kinds of scenarios.

So, why did I go see this movie, again?

Everybody sees Ryan Reynolds character as a little Chinese guy and Jeff Bridges as a sexy blond.  Now, that’s funny.  Plus, Mary-Louise Parker does a great job with her character and manages to salvage the movie.

This movie did delve into the whole ghost and human tête-à-tête.  But by that point in the storyline it is forgivable.  After all, it is just a movie so why tarnish the character’s reputation?  It did make me a little nervous when it headed to a happily ever after ending.  Albeit with a twist.  It veered from that path though.  And I appreciate that.

When all is said and done, do I recommend it?  Yes.  On Red Box.

Losing my nemesis

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Oh boy –

this will be a long afternoon.

I don’t

suppose you’re leaving sometime soon?

You sure

annoy me to no end.

No, I

don’t want to be your friend.

I know

exactly what would make my day –

if you

decided to just go far away.

Go away.  Go away. Go away!

Wait, what?

You don’t care much for me?

Really?

How can that possibly be?

I mean,

most people think I’m a delight.

Word on

the street is I am dynamite.

If I

make you laugh you’ll see I’m okay.

Then we

will be bff’s and go play!

Let’s go play.  Let’s go play.  Let’s go play!

© 2013 ck’s days

Just missing one piece of the puzzle…

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I never got the chance to name a child.  But that doesn’t mean I didn’t have ideas.  I planned to combine a scripture name with a family name for each child.  Here’s what I came up with:

Moroni Jack.  This is quite possibly the most awesome name ever!  Moroni is a double whammy.  Not only is he the last Book of Mormon prophet to write in the book but there was also a Chief Captain Moroni over the Nephite armies.  Jack is after my mom’s dad.  I just really like the name Jack.  This is the name my family makes fun of me over.  They don’t think it’s as cool as I do.  Obviously, there is no accounting for taste.

 Rebekah Rion (pronounced Ryan).  Rebekah, Isaac’s wife, is one of my favorite scripture heroines found in the Old Testament.  And Rion?  Okay, that’s a bit of a stretch.  My grandma’s name was Marion.  But she hated the spelling because it was the masculine form (as if in John Wayne’s real name).

Emma Zoe (rhymes with no). Emma after Joseph Smith’s wife.  Zoe after the same grandma from above.  Before the name Zoe became popular with the long e at the end, my grandma (born in 1902) went by Zoe – long o and silent e.

Samuel James.  Samuel is a prominent scripture name throughout all the holy writ.  James is after my other grandpa.  Again, I just like the name Sam.  I picture this kid becoming a famous DJ – “This is Sammy J playin today!”

I never figured out a way to work in my other grandma – Tomie.  Still working on that.

But during Sunday School on Sunday, we learned about a man named Zebedee.  You just don’t hear about many Zebedees nowadays.  So, I’m adding one more to the list.  Zebedee Lee.  Sorry, Moroni Jack, there’s a new cool name in town. (And yes, I listened to the actual lesson, too.  Eventually.  It took a while to recover after I thought of the name and kept repeating it in my mind.  I thoroughly entertained myself for a few minutes)

I guess I need to write a few stories and give my characters the names I picked out.  Because they are just too good to go to waste.  Perhaps I’ll start with Zebedee Lee.  Just as soon as I say it five times fast.