On the Life and Legacy of Wendell Winkles

In which a quest undertaken leads unexpected places.

Mr. Wendell Winkles¹ awoke with a start.  He leapt from his bed and muttered to himself, "I need a fish."  This thought quickly left his mind as he looked down and realized that he was stark naked; which he found odd given that he had gone to bed in a flannel onesie.  He walked to his closet to find something to wear.  Would it be the black with green dots, the blue with red squares, or the brown with white stripes?  Wendell Winkles stood starring listlessly into the closet unable to decide when a massive shiver shook his paunchy, wrinkly body.  His hand shot into the closet and retrieved the first object that it touched.  Mr. Winkles wrapped the blue and red burlap cloak² around his body and strode out of the smallish room through his living nook and out the front door to retrieve his mid-day paper.

"I need a fish!" Wendell screamed to the heavens.  The sunlight shimmered off of his blondish-black stubble, "I need a fish," he bellowed again.  His neighbors looked at him with question marks in their eyes³.  Old Mrs. Zanklebabner walked over to where Wendell Winkles stood gazing at the noon day sun, mouth agape, breathing heavily.

"Are you alright, deary?" She asked softly.

Wendell's head snapped down and met her eye-line, crazy juice⁴ pouring from his nose and mouth.  His eyes widened as he screamed in the poor old woman's face, "I need a fish," and then took off running down the street as fast as he could go, all the time screaming, "I need a fish.  I need a fish."  Every thirty feet or so the screaming would stop as Mr. Winkles would pause and ever so calmly adjust his cloak and tighten his sash so as not to expose himself to the people he was running past.  Why no one suggested to him to simply double knot his sash is a mystery to this day⁵.

The screaming continued as the frantic Mr. Winkles entered the park.  He made a bee line straight for the large pond at the park's center.  After scaling the large boulder at waters edge he screamed one final time, "I need a fish," before belly flopping into the pond and swimming to the bottom.  Minutes passed and still Wendell did not emerge from the putrid waters, a crowd slowly gathered around the shore.  Suddenly, Mr. Winkles' blue and red cloak floated to the surface.  Quincy Adam Johnson, park ranger, family man, and three time grand champion of the Ologokie County Costume Contest⁶, approached the crowd and asked them what was going on.

"A man jumped into the pond and hasn't come up," a young mother of 3.14 kids⁷ said.

Ranger Johnson sighed and sat down to remove his boots when he heard a rustle in the bushes near the water followed by a giggle.  He approached the bushes with caution, pushing his way through the foliage.  When he reached a clearing he saw a single shaft of light illuminating the glistening, well known and somewhat controversial⁸ back hair of Wendell Winkle.

"Wendell, what are you doing out here?" Ranger Johnson asked.

Wendell's head turned, grinning he said, "I have a fish."

He raised his arms and proudly showed his prize.  In his hands was a slightly moistened and severely agitated squirrel.  The squirrel bit Wendell's thumb and scampered into the underbrush.  Wendell stood up and turned to Ranger Johnson.

"Balls."

Ranger Johnson looked at the very nude, still wet behemoth and simply remarked, "Indeed."

__________________________________________________________
¹ Of the Kansas City^A Winkles.
² The very same style of cloak that Minowag the VII Sovereign Mountebank of Greater Thanperia wore at his coronation ceremony.
³ All except crazy, old Tommy "Raven Hater" Billingham, who had no eyes^B.
⁴ Snot and drool.
⁵ Though some scholars contend that onlookers may have been temporarily hypnotized by the giggling fat, why others postulate that people were to busy mentally preparing themselves for the seemingly inevitable, yet entirely accidental, dong viewing.
⁶ For his first-rate portrayal of Lando Calrissian.
⁷ Don't ask.
⁸ For years there has been a debate amongst the townspeople about what Wendell's back hair looked like. Some said it appeared to be shaped like an albatross fighting a gazelle, while others saw a mermaid riding a mastodon.

^A That would be the Kansas City Kansas Winkles not the Kansas City Missouri Winkles.
^B Because a raven pecked them out.

On the Gritty, Hardboiled, Noir Side of Life

In which we peer into the seamy underbelly of crime fiction, enjoy childhood classics, and a short story is shared.

I grew up on Calvin and Hobbes¹.  I didn't always get the jokes, or understand the words that were used, but I loved sitting down and reading Bill Watterson's funny pages masterpiece.  One of my favorite personas that Calvin took on was Tracer Bullet, rough and surly private detective that stalked the streets trying to solves mysteries like who broke the lamp?² There was something about the stark use of shadows and the callous first person narration that seemed to strike a chord with me, it resonated in my consciousness.  I had my first run in with noir fiction, and I loved it.

Noir fiction is, most simply, crime fiction that looks at crime and violence in a realistic or callous way.  It just puts it out there; crime happens, it's the way of the world.  However, noir fiction, and with it film noir, will often lead to debates among academics.  What makes a story noir, is the characters, the subject matter, the setting?  Can one story be "more noir" than another?  You are on your own to answer those questions.  But in my mind there is something about a noir story (whether film or written) that defines it as such, the only thing I can think of to describe it is an attitude that the story has.  Something that runs deep with in the story.  Clearly it is a well thought out definition that I have going here³.

Last summer I read The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett.  Falcon's main character, Sam Spade, is considered the archetype for hardboiled detectives⁴.  The book was a very fun read.  It had a great story filled with sex, murder, lies, femme-fatales and some interesting plot twists.  All from a book written in the 1930's (it was originally written as a serial published in a magazine).  I think that is one of the more interesting thing about this book, written in a time that had much stricter regulations on what would be in a book Hammett had to get creative with his prose to accurately portray the criminal lifestyle without offending anyone.  Here is my favorite example:
    
      "The boy spoke two words; the first was a short guttural verb, the second "you." (Hammett, 94)

When it comes to movies that list of those films that fall under the category of noir is....extensive, to say the least.  I haven't seen as many film noir movies as I would like to, but here are some of the ones that I have seen that I have greatly enjoyed.  Ronin (1998)⁵, L.A. Confidential (1997), Payback (1999)⁶, A History of Violence (2005), Brick (2006), Momento (2000), and Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang (2005).  The last three all play on the conventions of the noir style.  Brick takes a noir style story and dialogue and places it in the setting of a high school, leading to a fast talking, cynical high school student attempting to solve the murder of his ex-girlfriend.  Momento's main character follows a man who is trying to solve the murder of his wife, the plot twist here is that he has no short term memory, the film makers utilize an out of sequence style of shooting to allow the viewer to experience the same frustrations that the main character has.  Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang is a noir comedy that has a fictional noir story as a central lot point.  If you watch this movie you will get to enjoy Robert Downey Junior playing a thief pretending to be an actor who is learning how to pretend to be a detective.

Call them what you want, comic books, graphic novels, sequential art, anyway you say it comics don't get a whole lot of respect.  They are seen as juvenile and simple, and they can be, but there are also incredibly deep stories to be found.  And in this case an amazingly rich noir world filled with great characters, engaging stories, and wonderful art.  It is called Criminal, written by Ed Brubaker, drawn by Sean Phillips, and colored by Val Staples.  Criminal follows the world of two generations of crime in fictional Center City.  These stories are, quite simply, some of the best I've ever read, and you would do yourself a great service to check them out⁷.  Here is a sample for you from the second story line that follows Tracey Lawless as he seeks revenge for his brother's murder (click the pictures to see bigger versions):

In order to graduate from college I needed to take an intensive writing class so I decided to take creative writing.  It ended up being on of my favorite classes.  We read a whole bunch of short stories and wrote about seven of our own.  Our professor was a little weird and wouldn't grade our papers with letter grades; instead she would give checks and check pluses.  My favorite story that I wrote fits in well with this post because it ended up having a very noir feel to it.  It was not my highest graded paper, that would be the first one that I wrote which received a ✓++, this paper only received a lowly ✓+.  Here are some excerpts:

"The bar was dank and smoke filled, and the poor lighting only enhanced the drab décor.  A sparse number of age-old paper clippings were the only interruption to the primarily unadorned walls.  The entire atmosphere was designed to heighten the depression of the customers.  The more depressed they were, the more they drank, the more they drank the more money the owner made.  It really just came down to simple arithmetic.  Three men in suits sat on stools, nursing beers and staring off into nothingness, attempting to forget the day’s events.  In the back corner a man sat, anxiously looking around.  His eyes shot back and forth, scanning the darkness.  Eyes never resting, never focusing on anything in particular, neither did his mind.  One hand rested on the table, in an obvious attempt to appear casual, while the other clutched his jacket, which rested next to him on the booth’s seat.   A waitress walked over to his table."

Here is some dialogue from later in the story:

“Well yeah, I know that’s what we talked about.  But I just think that it’s worth more than ten.  If I give it to you for that then I’m just screwing myself over.”

Jackson clenched his teeth, banged his fist down onto the table.  “No, you listen to me.  We had a deal; the deal was for ten thousand.  There is no way that I’m going to pay anymore than that,” he said in a harsh whisper.

“Then maybe I’ll just take me business elsewhere,” Cal began to get up.

“Sit down, and shut up.”

Cal sat down and leaned over the table whispering fiercely, “Or what?  Are you threatening me?  That’s not how this works, Jacky.  You are the one who called me.  You are the one who was begging me to sell it to you in the first place.  You are the one who needs it so badly.  So the way I see it you are not in any position to be making demands of me.”

If you are interested in my story you can read the whole thing here.  Sorry about any formatting errors that may be there, it didn't translate to Google Reader that well.  Also, I haven't really done much to the story in year, so excuse any spelling or grammar errors.

Crime fiction, a great way to get in touch with your inner sociopath.
_________________________________________________________
¹ Images above created and drawn by Bill Watterson, found on Google Image Search, please don't sue me.
² It was Hobbes.
³ Or not.
⁴ Including the aforementioned Tracer Bullet.
⁵ Which has the distinct honor of not only having some of the best car chases ever filmed, but it is also the first DVD I ever bought.
⁶ If you want to check this movie out make sure you get the directors cut, not the original versions, it is much better.
⁷ Visit your local library.