I mean, you gave birth to them, you bathe them, clothe them, feed them, changed their diapers…heck you ladies have cleaned up messes that would make the Roto-rooter man puke!

Yet, the more important factor to consider here is: once in a blue moon, you should exercise your privilege of being mom and dad for the greater comic good.  It’s as simple as that.

So, if you’ve had the kind of day where your teen hasn’t listened as they should have, or maybe they hit you with some sarcasm that they should have refrained from, I want to give you a treat:

Acceptable torture for your teen.

No, this does not involve pain in any way, except maybe their ego…it’s just something that will make most teens scream and make you laugh until it hurts.  No scars, no wounds…just fun and a look of shock you’ll be able to make postcards from.  All for a couple hours of prep and a single dollar.  Seriously–just a buck.

Ready?

Go to your local dollar store and buy a bag of generic marbles.  Any kind will do, but if you happen to luck out and find some metal ones, grab ‘em–they work the best.  Now, some of us die-hard discipline, ‘honor thy mother and thy father or thou shalt be in serious crap’ parents take an extra step: buy the large metal balls used for larger game with wrist-rockets instead of the marbles.  They cost a bit more, but the level of laughter is much more satisfying.  I got mine from the local Wal-Mart.

Now take the marbles and place them in the freezer.  Don’t let the teen find them.  Paper lunch sacs works perfect.  Roll the top closed and leave them through the night.

Next, plan the time for attack.  I like to encourage my teens to stay up and watch a good movie or two, just to make sure they’re up late and really tired when they go to bed.  That way if I make a mistake, they’re too out of it to stir or care.

Take the bag, open the top and hold the bottom of the bag in your palm. DO NOT HOLD THE MARBLES IN YOUR NAKED HAND…it warms them up too fast and you miss the true effect.

Sneak into the teens room, lift up the sheets and quickly pour the marbles into the bed.  Let the sheet fall immediately behind the last marble and watch the show.

The freeze hits quickly, but the best part is watching the teen try and get away from the sensation.  No matter where they roll, the marbles follow the indentation in the bed and stick to them.  7 out of 10 times, they end up flipping out of bed, onto the floor.

Best time to do this?  Oh anytime you need a pick-me-up…but the most dramatic effects always happen in the winter months.  Teens want to stay snuggled under the covers, which amplifies my giggle reflex when they hit the floor.

Have some fun, bring a camera.  If you send me the pics, I’ll post them here if anyone’s interested.  If you have a movie and put it on Youtube, I’ll post it here as well.

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Truth be known, I have wanted to start making movies of Simon for work, mainly because he’s so fun to watch and every day he begs to go to work with me.  Maybe I can film him and eventually get paid for making people laugh…

The question is: what great child event/situation/humorous saying have you captured on film for yourself?

If you haven’t taken the opportunity, consider it!

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Don’t say Happy Birthday, tomorrow can’t get here soon enough for me.

I did however get taken to one of my favorite places: The Zoo.  You know, see the sights, visit the relatives.

The joy in the zoo comes from the reactions of the smaller kids.  Carley (2) looked at the bats and cringed, sticking out her tongue and saying ‘gross’.  The funny thing about walking the grounds and observing is you quickly notice there are far more animals OUTside the cages than in them.  Short tempered parents who are screaming and even using foul language with their little ones.  These small, inquisitive minds are simply trying to take in all of the experiences.

Why for heavens sake, would you go to such a place when you’re in a foul mood or can’t take a moment and live through your kids?

Tip: If your going to act like an animal, stay home and lock yourself in a room.  You’ll save yourself a pocket of cash and you’ll keep your kids safe from a mood you’d be ashamed of if you looked in the mirror.

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In fact, you only have to look as far as the nearest town, probably a place most people in the world have never heard of. Just an unexciting place where unexciting things happen would provide a fantastic advantage for hiding our Hero from the dark forces looking for him. A simple place where a child could grow up in a loving home and relative safety until it was time for him to return and claim his birthright.

That’s what the Iskari High Council hoped, anyway.

It was a perfect day. The long blades of lush wild grass on the hillside surrounding the Matthew home gave way to the persuasion of the warm and gentle breeze as the bright corn lilies and columbine just nodded in agreement. The aspen trees and a few tall pines surrounding the fenced pool lent a faint woody musk scent to the wind. Small birds chirped as they darted overhead seeming to feel the happiness in the air and even the Cooper’s Hawk that sat atop a nearby fence post feasting on a woodpecker added to the overall feeling of contentment. The only sounds contrary to those of nature were the creaky old lawn chairs that Evan and his best friend were occupying beside the pool. A perfect day to enjoy their hard earned freedom, day after graduation, stretched out in t-shirts and jeans, relaxing in the growing warmth of the morning sun.

Evan stretched his bulging bronze biceps and yawned. The year had passed so quickly it felt like a dream, especially when it came to his accomplishments. He had graduated with a B average, thanks to the tutoring of his friend, and now had options at the local community college. He had a good job at a nearby garage. Turns out his deep passion for engines and racing was exactly what Mr. Stolson was looking for and it gave him plenty of time to work on his roadster and hang out with the girls. And there were always girls hanging around. Evan was ‘the’ magnet.

He was the young man with the perfect manners, the perfect timing and the perfect looks. From saving the kitten in the tree to helping the old lady across the street, Evan Matthews was always in the right place at the right time. Everybody in town called him the hero, and the girls loved hearing him tell his stories, hanging on every word. He didn’t mind.

Evan glanced over at Wendell, doing a double take. His wiry sidekick sat there grinning into space with the most unusual expression on his face. He was probably thinking about ‘The Plan’.

They had been making plans for the summer, and Evan had been quietly listening most of the time, but Wendell was making it difficult. He always tried too hard and Evan was often frustrated at how he always got in his own way. It was just so weird how a funny, interesting guy like him turned into a social moron anytime a pair of pretty eyes blinked in his direction. That’s why they needed to concoct ‘The Plan’.

“But it doesn’t work that way!” Wendell really had Evan’s attention.

“Why not?”

“Because its not polite to lock someone in once you finally get them here. Besides, you’ll scare her.” Evan had imagined seeing the flashing blue and red lights through his front room window.

Quietly, frustrated, “But then they’ll just leave…….again.”

“No, man. Patience. This is not the twisted social structure of high school. No more bullies, no more jocks and no more locker room pranks.” Evan couldn’t help shaking his head as he remembered this conversation from earlier and he was just going to hope Wendell remembered that girls really don’t care about his blue ribbon in a belching contest or his latest victory at the role playing convention.

Evan was pulled back to the present by Wendell’s raised voice.

“Hey! I said, When are you planning on breaking free of the old nest? I’m tellin’ ya it feels real good to be on my own. A man of the world.” And with the emphasis of ‘man of the world’ Evan could tell he really meant it.

“Not sure I want to just yet,” he said shrugging.

Wendell sat upright, frowning. “What? You have everything but your own place! I thought that was a key part to our plan. You an alien? What did you do with my best friend?”

Evan looked out over the back yard and gave a big sigh. “I just don’t feel the need, Wendell. I’m comfortable here at home and there’s no real rush anyway, at least not this summer. Just figured I’d keep my options open for now.”

Wendell shot Evan an all too serious glance and nodded, “Yeah. I’ll tell ya’ Evan, it wasn’t easy breaking it to my mom like that, cause I didn’t want to leave her on her own. You know, with dad being gone. Let’s face it, Moms never think there’s a right time. But a man needs his space! So, I walked into the kitchen and said, ‘Mom, I love you and you’re the greatest, but I’m not a child anymore. I’ve decided to move out.’ She was so beside herself, she had to laugh to hide her pain. I’m sure going to miss her.”

Seemingly satisfied, Wendell lifted his long, lanky arms to link his fingers behind his head and turn his face to the heat of the sun.

Evan had his thick arms folded, eyes locked on Wendell with one of his immense hands over his mouth, doing his best to look serious and sympathetic, teeth slowly bitting into his own palm, but it was no use. There was a snort, then a muffled gag, almost choking, and finally the unmistakable “HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Evan laughed with such force Wendell flinched and sat up with a look of complete shock. Wiping tears from his eyes, Evan wrapped a huge arm around his stomach as he gasped for a breath.

“You just moved into the camping trailer in the back yard!” Evan said with a guffaw. He couldn’t help it. Evan noticed Wendell gritting his teeth and giving him the you are such a dirt bag look, but he still could not manage to control himself and just shrugged.

“Well,…technically I moved out,” Wendell muttered with a weak sigh, folding his arms across his chest and sinking into the chair. “I didn’t want to go TOO far.”

It was hard to have these conversations with Wendell, especially when he took things so personally, even though Evan considered his best friend the slightly underdeveloped better half. Sure, he had to work a little harder at some things, but the girls were actually sticking around to talk on occasion, not squirming like they had snakes in their shirt and having to leave abruptly. And, despite a sketchy resume, Wendell had a lot of applications out for his first real job. Oh, he had had jobs, just not the right job. Until then he still had his allowance.

Evan smirked, “Does it come with maid service too? How about free food or laundry options?” But Wendell ignored him.

Evan bounced out of his chair which creaked in protest, reaching out to jab Wendell in the shoulder. “Hey, this is a great reason to have a pool party! What do you think, I’ll go make some phone calls?” He paused, expectantly.

“Seriously?” asked Wendell. “The girls might not run away from something like that.” His eyes glazed over, losing focus. “Maybe I can try some of the new lines from the book I just bought: How to Get a Girlfriend Regardless of What You Look Like!” Evan raised his hand again to scratch the scruff on his face and bit his palm again to keep from having a laughing relapse. Truth was, Evan knew Wendell never could stay mad at him for very long.

“I really am sorry, man,” said Evan with another jab at Wendell’s shoulder.

The return jab to the gut was the sure sign that all was well. Best friends. Always had been—always would be.

“Alright! Let’s plan us a party!” Evan gave a thumbs up and trotted to the back door.

“Awesome!” smiled Wendell.

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I know that I am the storyteller. I’m the friend, the neighbor, the stranger on the street. I’m the one who watches, contemplates, and observes.

But who are you? Are you a person of great consequence? With great responsibilities? Or are you still trying to figure out who you are and where you fit in this great big world of ours?

Well, actually, we all are. Even those of us who are ‘great’ aren’t the ones who make the world go ’round. They are just louder than the rest of us.

The dry, listless breeze blew across the wide path of rough cut steps climbing the reaching arm to the plateau. Magically enhanced stone stretched hundreds of feet into the air, where the Pinnacle with its diamond hard, red rock surface deflected sands assaulting the barrier; a protection of enchantments cast a thousand generations before, to keep out the biting sand and wind but not the roar of chittering grains echoing from every direction, like swarms of bugs capable of rending flesh from bone. Looking down from the plateau was a chasm spanning a mile to the north, south and west, containing the Sands of Sight where hidden knowledge in the churning clouds of dust revealed its secrets to one who has the gift to see. These sands are fragments diligently collected from a million worlds, connecting the Pinnacle, its chiseled form stretching out like a hand to each native land.

Upon the plateau stood a lone robed figure, hood drawn back exposing his clean shaven head and sideburns. He relaxed in a shoulder width stance, fingers interlaced behind his pear shaped torso. He was called the High Elder, and his position was head of a governing order called the Iskari High Council. They are unique men who, as stewards of special gifts, observe and maintain the balance of good and evil across the thirteen worlds that revolve around the sun, Beletarus. While occasionally…. tinkering, for purely scientific reasons, in a few other outlying galaxies.

He had been standing atop the Pinnacle for most of the day feeding and watching the sands, the chittering chaos whispering its subtle secrets in a language he understood. Looking to his left, a small stone rose from a neatly organized pile and drifted towards him. The stone was coarse and pitted with veins of green lime showing through one end. Nodding towards the of Sand of Sight, the stone launched itself into the great chasm, instantly engulfed by the raging storm. Closing his eyes the High Elder concentrated, reaching out with his mind and heart. Before him the sands shifted and slowly began to take form. Soon the small sphere took its place in the Catalog of Planets. He opened his eyes and smiled.

The High Elder looked forward to his daily ritual of observing events on distant worlds, in what he called ‘essence’. His mind went to the events close at hand and another scene began to take shape. Sands poured in from the chaos towards him. Long streams of grain quickly organized themselves into figures conversing with one another. Yet, one figure was distinctly different than the other. The grains converging where the heart would be were lighter in color than the rest of the formed figures of sand, representing a goodness or purity. The High Elder nodded with approval. These were the life and movements of the young man who had been placed upon a strange world, Earth, to hide him. The High Elder had been watching over him ever since he was a helpless baby, placed in the arms of loving parents who would never know where he really came from. The young man was needed now, to come home, reclaim his birthright and save his people.

It was an exciting time, and the High Elder was honored to be a part. Many generations had passed, waiting for this very opportunity to see the rise of the next ‘Hero’, who would awaken the Gem of the Gods: The Ithari.

Soon, he thought. Soon I will see the face of the Hero! He almost giggled. His old eyes, watching the pulse of the sands, saw unusual strength in this youth. He leaned forward, peering deeper into the magic, once again hoping to see the young mans features, to see the look in his eyes, even though he knew it was impossible. The sands could not reveal detail, with the exception of gender. He sighed and checked his feelings. Tomorrow, he reminded himself.

So unusually distracted by his thoughts and engrossed in the young Hero, the High Elder did not feel someone approach behind him nor did he notice another strand of sand changing from its soothing neutral color to an alarming deep, red crimson, penetrating the enchanted barrier and rise to meet the sands of Earth.

“Father!”

Startled from his vision, the High Elder darted a glance to his side. He immediately felt cramping in his stomach—a sign he recognized as evil being present, and calmly, but quickly, stretched out a hand to wave through the scene and break his link to Earth. The figures collapsed into swirling tentacles of grain launching themselves into the chasm once more.

All except the one crimson swirl that rose higher drawing close to the old man, slowly inching its way around his chest and up to his face and brow. The grains separated to form long, thin tentacles, that reached out to test the presence of the High Elder. After feeling and probing the air, it lingered as if waiting for some sign of weakness. Waiting, the High Elder knew, for his thoughts to betray the young Hero or some hint of his knowledge so it could snatch the information and reveal the youth’s location to its dark master.

Slowing his breath, the High Elder concentrated with a lifetime of practiced skill…clearing all thoughts from his consciousness. He knew he could wait, too. Moments stretched passed. Then minutes.

“Ish-krothi Umballa!” impatiently commanded, Shea, as he punched his hands through the ends of his robe to bring his hands around an invisible ball that he stretched and forcefully thrust toward his father. The sands immediately scattered and with a popping noise, burst into flame.

“No!” cried the High Elder urgently. “The Dark Lord will know we hide something from him!” He looked down at the small shards of glass at his feet, the cloudy crimson red slowly fading from the shining surfaces of the debris. He had been so careful in laying the plans to avoid the Dark Lord Mahan. It hadn’t always been easy to keep the prying eyes of shadow at bay by creating exceptionally strong charms and magical decoys. Weaving deceptions of ignorance and complacency to keep the child safe for the last eighteen years had been necessary. Now, with one irrational breath, the High Elder’s perfectly orchestrated plan had been compromised.

He turned sharply on his heel, a deep frown on his face, pulled the hood of his white robes over his head and started briskly down the steep, winding path towards Sanctuary and away from the deafening cries of the sand.

Shea quickly followed to catch up and keep pace at the High Elders side. When they had walked far enough that he could be heard without shouting, he started “Father, I…”

The High Elder raised his right hand for silence. “Control and unity, my son,” he interrupted, his voice cool and stern. “This is always about control and unity. That is how we defeat the enemy. That is how we maintain the balance between the forces, not by a careless display of personal power and parlor tricks!” He continued down the path, never turning his head as he spoke, until he felt his son’s hand reaching out to him.

“I’m sorry, father.”

The High Elder slowed his pace, his sons tone causing his rigid pace to falter, and then stopped. His wise and piercing gaze studied his son’s expressions. Moments passed, but he said nothing.

“Truly,” Shea said, sounding more humble. “I sought only to keep the child safe.”

The High Elder’s expression softened, the small wrinkles in the corners of his eyes giving a faint smile. He let his breath out in a slow silent sigh. Shea was young. Too young to carry such a burden, in his own opinion, but the people and the Council had spoken and his only son had been called to the Iskari High Council in a life pledge of service. His rights as a father were now subject to the calling of an Elder. Shea was the youngest Elder recorded in their people’s history.

The smile vanished from his face. That is no excuse. I may have lost my rights over him as a father, but I still lead this Council! Youth and inexperience was no excuse for the irrational behavior and stepping outside one’s calling.

“Young Elder, you have forgotten your place—doubted my position and challenged my stewardship.”

Pain registered in Shea’s face, reminding his father of their opposing views on the Council. The youths posture straightened at the formal address and he gave a formal nod of his head. “High Elder, I do not doubt your position NOR would I dare challenge your stewardship,” his voice one of controlled patience. “I have only questioned this decision on how the Hero should be retrieved. I see too much risk involved. Thus I believe his important task should only be entrusted to the Council as a whole. The bloodline will need protection. Our protection.”

The High Elder shook his head in frustration. It was the same argument. The same words he’d heard over and over again in council; meetings continually ending in raised voices and divided emotions. It was weakening the unity and effectiveness of the Council, some of the Elders were withdrawing into themselves over the issue. His eyes studied once again the face of his only son. Too much arrogance and pride in ones own ability and power, he worried to himself. They underestimate the growing power and cunning of the enemy!

“Our calling is to observe, record, plan and organize. We guide by presenting choices and encourage others govern themselves. Yet, this Council would presume to step in and directly thwart the strength of the greatest evil known to mortality?!” The High Elder placed his hands into the folds of his robes, gripping his own wrists tightly. “Insanity!” he snapped. “Mahan has nearly enslaved worlds through his matchless power, were it not for the bloodline! Have you truly convinced yourself of being beyond destruction, or worse yet—corruption? ”

Shea raised his head to the challenge. “What of your plan, Father?” he asked in quick retort. “To send a calloused, free-willed outcast to retrieve our last hope for creation? One who shirks his responsibilities to live in pubs, and returns so intoxicated that he often mistakes the pig pen for his cottage. He can’t even find the bathroom in the dark!”

The High Elder couldn’t help but smile at the rather accurate description of one of Sanctuary’s longest residents. “No. Dax can find a bathroom in the dark…he simply finds it inconvenient when intoxicated, and therefore chooses not to.”

“That’s just…sick,” Shea grimaced, revolted at the thought.

“Nevertheless, it does not disqualify him for the task at hand. We all have a purpose. Remember what has been taken from him and how he suffers. If nothing else, it should soften your heart. He knows the coordinates and exact time to appear to avoid error.”

Shea looked unconvinced. “You misplace your trust in a fool, Father.”

“No,” the High Elder smiled, grateful for the slight change of topic diffusing the old argument. Placing a confident hand on his son’s chest, “I trust a friend.”

The young Elder’s head fell slowly, closing his eyes in resignation.

Patting his son’s shoulder, the High Elder grinned wide. “Have confidence. The Dark Lord will never suspect what is about to happen…and we will do what has never been done before.”

Shea sighed and muttered under his breath, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

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Born of Hope is an independent feature film inspired by the Lord of the Rings and produced by Actors at Work Productions in the UK.
www.bornofhope.com

This film should soon be also on it’s proper Youtube channels, ActorsatWork & BornofHope. Check them out for more videos regarding the film. Thanks to Chris Bouchard and the H4G team for putting the film here until Youtube upgrade our channels.

A scattered people, the descendents of storied sea kings of the ancient West, struggle to survive in a lonely wilderness as a dark force relentlessly bends its will toward their destruction. Yet amidst these valiant, desperate people, hope remains. A royal house endures unbroken from father to son.

This 70 minute original drama is set in the time before the War of the Ring and tells the story of the Dúnedain, the Rangers of the North, before the return of the King. Inspired by only a couple of paragraphs written by Tolkien in the appendices of the Lord of the Rings we follow Arathorn and Gilraen, the parents of Aragorn, from their first meeting through a turbulent time in their people’s history.

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Award winning unofficial prequel to The Lord of the Rings dramatising Aragorn & Gandalf’s long search for Gollum. This 40 minute film, made by fans for fans is based on the appendices of LOTR and was painstakingly shot on a low budget as a homage to Peter Jackson’s trilogy and the writing of J.R.R. Tolkien.
Costing less than $5,000 to make, with a team of volunteers, Independent Online Cinema are proud to have brought Middle-earth to the screen once more. We hope you enjoy The Hunt For Gollum as much as we enjoyed making it.

For those of you who love the story, or like me, admire those who do their best to create something to emulate projects you love–this may entertain you. It certainly entertained me. There are two clips.

Here’s the first: The Hunt for Gollumn

Let me know what you think.

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