The bar is empty and I couldn’t be happier.
   Actually, I could. I could be much happier, but that’s not going to happen, not tonight.
   My hand clutches the bottle with a white-knuckle grip I usually reserve for a steering wheel, or the lithe creature sliding up behind me.
   I pour out two shots and with a flick of a finger, send one sliding down the bar in her direction. I let my shoulders sag and I sink down into myself. I don’t feel like talking tonight, and she respects that. I just want to sit here and forget about everything. Just once.
   From the corner of my eye I watch her throw back the shot as the scent of sweet Scotch tickles my nose. She places the glass back on the bar, handling it like a piece of fragile Ming dynasty China. I just stare into mine.
   A grip on my shoulder, tender in intention and her breath on the back of my neck then she’s off, her heals tapping across the hardwood floor; tap, tap, tap.
   The only light in the bar is a single candle, it’s ruddy flame dancing and flickering; casting long, suspicious shadows on the rows of bottles opposite me. It’s taunting me, it’s calling me out.
   ”You could have saved him,” the flame whispers and laughs. “You could have, you know?” I try to ignore it, but it won’t go away. It’s reflection in my glass manifests itself into the wiry little man we cast back into the ocean not an hour ago. I watch him squirm and struggle, trying valiantly to claw his way back up to the surface, but to no avail. Eventually he stops breathing and falls helplessly to the bottom of my ounce of Scotch.
   The candle light dances a celebratory rumba. It cheers and hurrahs my failure, reveling in my calamity. Live it up, pal. Enjoy it while you can.
   I empty the glass, quick and sharp and my throat burns. Holding the glass before the light, I examine it carefully, noting it’s contours and refractive properties.
   ”You failed,” whispers the light, “you… failed…”
   The glass falls upside down over the candle with a soft pat and the light goes out. I’m left in the dark, perched on a stool, hand still holding the bottle in a death grip, looking at my mistake through a veil of nothingness.
   With a soft C Major chord Phaedra finds the piano. She plays a stirring tune sampled from the rhythms of the dark flowing around us.
   ”There’s always tomorrow,” she says quietly.
   ”There’s always tomorrow,” I repeat.
   I grip the bottle tighter.

Dear Inconsiderate Motorist

At first, sir or madame, I was quite infuriated that you scratched my automobile with your undoubtedly obscenely oversized truck or sports utility vehicle (for nothing else could possibly scratch where you did).
After further thought, though, I must thank you for not committing the act, thereby demonstrating poor control of your motor vehicle and careless abandon and disregard for your fellow motorist’s property.
I am sure, beyond a doubt, that if I had been present then at best I would have challenged you to (and surely won) a gentleman’s duel (assuming you are capable of gentlemanly behaviour) or I would now be in the custody of the law under charges of violence most severe.

Safe travels,

Jeremy

It’s been a while, I know. I’ve been horribly busy since the last serious post and I promise to return to the tale of Raising Ruby soon as I can.

Now, though, I am very happy to announce an endeavour coming into existence and I can not stress enough that local voice actors are wanted.

* * *

Dominion Ontario, 1933

Justin is stuck.

He’s stuck manning the office when he’d rather be flying. Of course he can’t leave until one of his fellow pilots for St. Lawrence Couriers returns. But even then, customers aren’t exactly beating down the door with deliveries, either.

With nothing to do but read the sports page over and over and over again, Justin wishes for a good, quick, well paying job; something lucrative enough to make him put down the paper, throw out the employee hand book, lock up the office and head back into the big blue.

And that’s when he met Carmen; the leggy brunette he had always dreamed of. And when Carmen offers Justin easy money to fly a single package deep into the heart of northern Ontario, no questions asked, how can he say no?

Too bad there’s no such thing as easy money.

Justin Tyme

&

The Devil in the Clouds

A four part, two-fisted aerial adventure for the radio.

by

Jeremy Corke

Produced in partnership with Shaer Productions

Auditions will be held in the evening of August 4th and 5th with rehearsal and recording on the 14th and the 15th as necessary. Email Wendy to book an audition time.

Available Roles

Justin Tyme, air courier, age 31.

Lead role, protagonist.

Young, ambitious and a little naive. Polite, well mannered and humble. Extremely accomplished pilot and very pragmatic individual. Not a violent person by nature, and only as a last resort when pushed.

Doctor Eric Telford, scientist, 48.

Primary role, every episode, partner/side kick.

Rational thinker but irrationally paranoid. Polite and slightly timid, becoming crotchety and sarcastic under stress.

Juliette Lancross, air pirate femme fatale, 33.

Primary role, every episode, antagonist.

Capable of going from princess to tyrant in five seconds flat. Puts on airs to manipulate people and very, very quick to anger. Speaks with a subtle but noticeable French accent.

Carmen Dwyer, corporate security officer, 30.

Secondary role, two episodes, love interest.

Very self confident and ambitious. Does not fluster easily. Uses her wiles to get what she wants and a sucker for ‘nice eyes’.

Mr. Chamberlain, corporate director, 55.

Secondary role, three episodes.

Gruff and experienced bureaucrat. Fair minded and respectable though somewhat impatient.

Dr. Christopher Lancross, mad scientist, 53.

Secondary role, three episodes, antagonist.

Devious and determined, but very sick. Tires easily and  has trouble concentrating at times. Very open minded to the limits of science, though he maybe losing said mind.

Constable Maggie Hart, undercover RCMP, 30.

Secondary role, three episodes, partner.

Optimistic and sweet with a strong sense of right and wrong. Immediately trustworthy and well liked by everyone. Speaks with a very slight rural lilt.

Flight Captain Rogers, RCAF, 38.

Secondary role, two episodes.

Overly confidant, daring swashbuckler and adventurous barn-stormer. A proper officer, speaks with a thick English aristocratic accent.

Colonel Benton, Republic of Montana Militia, 42.

Secondary role, one episode.

Farmer turned arms dealer. Smug, calls it like he sees it and probably a heavy drinker. Speaks with a mid-western accent, but not too heavy.

Copernicus

Secondary role, three episodes.

Mysterious and ominous voice over the radio.

Announcer

Narrator of intro, outro and credits. Every episode.

Plus Extras