And of course, it did.

Her dad got lost before their flight even lifted off in New York. Ruth ended up flying without him and having to wait around an extra day just for him to finally arrive. And then when he did get to Warsaw, he wouldn’t board the train—tickets she’d already purchased. Then he started harping on her about her divorce, her empty life, her eating habits. Argh!

What she really wanted was something simple: to go back to where her parents were both raised. She wanted to see their hometown; get a sense of what their world might have looked like. She wanted to understand what it must have been like to be a Jew during World War II and to be shipped off to Auschwitz like her father and his family had been.  

Most of all, she wanted to see how she fit into all that twisted history, that misery. How is she connected? Her father, ever large and jovial, never talks about it. Yes, he’ll give her a squeeze and call her Pumpkin, but he never seems to ever tell her how he actually feels about anything.

So here they are wasting the train tickets she already purchased, taking silly side trips to places she didn’t want to go, and arguing about her failed marriage.

Oh, and the cherry on top of it all: She can’t speak Polish. So her father has to talk for them wherever they go!

What a trip.

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When Death comes to take her, Tuesday attempts to cover her fear with a joke about penguins. To her surprise, Death enjoys the joke.

So much of Death’s life is filled with … well, death. He hears the thoughts of every person who wants to die. He feels their pain.

He knows exactly how excruciating Tuesday’s life has been, unable to walk or even breathe properly on her own. So it’s a refreshing change of pace for Death when Tuesday offers up humor instead of the usual pleading and complaining. And for a brief moment, Death is able to shut out all the other voices summoning him. The steady flow of agony turns off.

Death is so impressed by Tuesday—by her positive attitude in the literal face of death—that when she asks him one last quick favor, he grants it to her.

He lets her call her mom to say goodbye. And when Tuesday’s mom doesn’t answer, he agrees to wait until the woman gets home so the mother and daughter can bid farewell.

Unfortunately, it’s not all that simple.

Although Tuesday has embraced the fact that it’s her time to pass on, her mom, Zora, hasn’t. And Zora will do just about anything—even killing Death—to keep Tuesday around.

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First, Ryan and Maya garner strange looks after they pronounce that they’re celebrating their fifth dating anniversary. “Why haven’t you put a ring on it?” a waitress asks Ryan.

Then Ryan accuses the mechanic of tampering with their car while they were eating to scam them out of money. And, of course, he refuses to share a drink with some locals who invite him to join them. Not to mention he orders a “meat-free” burger for vegetarian Maya—something the ultra-small town of Venus just doesn’t cater to.

Unfortunately, with the car out of commission, the couple is stuck there overnight in an Airbnb.

And even more unfortunately, they’ve drawn enough attention to themselves to attract the interest of some masked and malevolent strangers…

The post The Strangers: Chapter 1 appeared first on Plugged In.

“It’s a total pop-culture fantasy. But because hitmen have been a staple of books, movies and TV for the last 50 years, good luck getting anyone to believe their existence is all a myth.”

In truth, Gary’s part-time work for the New Orleans Police Department as an undercover hitman in murder-for-hire cases couldn’t be further from the truth of who he is. You see, the real Gary is a college psych and philosophy professor. He likes birding and electronics. He lives alone with two cats.

But when he enters the field, he plays an entirely different role. For one meeting, Gary adopts a Russian accent and wig. For another, he takes on the role of a skeet-shooting redneck. Each character he plays is a disguise donned to cater to the fantasy of what those looking for hitmen believe such a man looks like. And when the target confesses to wanting someone murdered and hands over the cash for payment, that’s when the police swoop in with enough evidence to put the person in jail.

At least, that’s how it usually works.

But that was before Gary (or, this time, the suave Rob) sat down with Madison. She’d contacted him in the hope that he might eliminate her abusive and controlling husband. And “Rob” senses that she’s not a killer at heart. So instead, he tells her to take her money and use it to start a new life—and if she needs someone to talk to, she can text him.

Well, Madison does walk away. And she does text him. Madison and “Rob” hit it off. And soon, Gary finds himself pretending to be Rob the hitman more often than he’s Gary.

And soon, all that faking just may come back to bite him.

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Those states of being aren’t, frankly, things that we often dwell on.

I mean, sure, everyone is aware of the fact that we’ll all die someday. But it’s the someday part of the equation that helps us focus on other things. And that’s particularly true for Miami detectives Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett.

These two cops have been partners and putting their lives on the line for decades now. And focusing on the fact that they may get hit with a stray bullet or a speeding vehicle at any moment will only make them hesitate, potentially at the wrong time.

But both of these guys are still thinking pretty hard about life and death these days.

Mike just got married, for instance. And having a loved one he could lose or leave behind if he makes the wrong choice has left him unsure of himself. He’s even had stressful moments lately that amount to a panic attack in the heat of gunfire.

Marcus, on the other hand, is thinking about life and death from a totally different perspective. While celebrating at Mike’s wedding, Marcus had a heart attack and died. He was literally dead and gone for a while there.

And in that space of time—while the paramedics were shocking him with a defibrillator and hustling his body to the hospital—Marcus saw visions. He saw his life (and past lives) flash before his eyes, and he met with Capt. Howard, a beloved officer who was recently murdered. 

Marcus came back from that experience with a new zeal for life. Not only did the good captain encourage Marcus to relish the family and loved ones he has, but he assured him that he couldn’t be killed. It wasn’t yet his “time.”

So while Mike is becoming overly cautious, Marcus is ready to charge into gunfire with no fear at all. As you might expect, that isn’t a good balance for cops facing danger. And the fact is, Marcus and Mike need all the balance they can get right now.

You see, someone is setting up the deceased Capt. Howard as a corrupt cop. There’s incriminating evidence spilling out and Mexican drug cartel money in the mix. The bad boy cops are the captain’s only defenders. And before you can sing, “Whatcha gonna do?” Mike and Marcus are being stitched into the frame up, too.

The FBI is after them. Their own police force has them on its radar. And there’s a gangland bounty on their heads. Who’s behind all this? And why is it happening now? 

Mike and Marcus haven’t got a clue, but they’ve got to lay low, dig in and find out what they can.

After all, this has now become a matter of life and death.

The post Bad Boys: Ride or Die appeared first on Plugged In.

Frank, Amy Winehouse’s first album, had sold decently, but not spectacularly. A tour through the United States was out of the question. As for the European tour, Amy would need to tinker with her stage presence. Oh, and just when could Island expect some new songs for the follow-up?

Amy storms out. “I need to live my songs,” she says. “So that’s what I’m gonna do.”

First stop: a nearby bar, where she meets a charismatic drifter. They talk. Flirt. He smiles when he learns she’s the Amy Winehouse. She appreciates his own love for old music. They commiserate over their penchant for self-sabotage. Perhaps around the time he introduces her to The Shangri-Las via the jukebox—a 1960s girl group known for their towering hairdos and melo-tragic songs—Amy knew this fella, this Blake Fielder-Civil, was the guy for her.

If only Blake’s girlfriend hadn’t pulled him away.

Their separation would not last. Amy and Blake were drawn to each other—not so much like a moth to a flame, but a deer to a train. Amy’s second album, Back to Black, would be pulled from the wreckage.

Amy herself? Blake? Perhaps—only to crash again. And again.

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It’s a bad night on Devil’s Night.

Crime-ravaged Detroit is already a tough beat for law enforcement. But on the night before Halloween, police officers and firefighters have their jobs cut out for them.

Every year, the city is engulfed in countless fires as arsonists take to the streets in grim celebration, all led by the elusive crime boss Top Dollar. Now, Top Dollar sets his sights on a string of apartment complexes he’d like to burn. So he orders the residents to clear the building.

But he doesn’t account for Shelly, a resident who protests the eviction. So Top Dollar sends some goons to take care of her. And as they beat and rape her, her fiancé, Eric, walks in. Soon, both Shelly and Eric are murdered. Devil’s Night rages on.

But exactly one year later, Eric bursts from his grave. He stumbles back to his apartment, and all those horrible memories come rushing back to him. And as he cuts his hand on the broken glass on the window those criminals pushed him through, he finds that his hands heal immediately.

Eric recognizes that he’s been brought back from the dead for revenge: to right the wrongs that were perpetrated upon Shelly and him.

And this year’s Devil’s Night won’t see the sun before he does just that.

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So God checks in and finds out that Hoprah is planning to step down from her media empire. And she wants Him to find a suitable successor to empower women everywhere. God has just the person in mind: a rich lawyer, doctor and part-time deliveryman named Taylor Pherry (the “p” is silent). This guy can do anything.

But you don’t just slip into Hoprah’s shoes. No, no, you’ve got to make a splash. So, God visits Pherry (the “p” is silent) and tells him to write a movie. Of course, Pherry (don’t forget the “p” thing) doesn’t know the first thing about screenwriting. But he does have a large family that’s packed with drama, so maybe he can write something about them.

There’s his grand-aunt, Madude, for instance. Some people think this hulking, whirlwind of a woman is actually a man in a dress, but no one would ever say that to her face. In fact, Pherry’s (the “p”—ah, let’s just call him Taylor), Taylor’s dad, Moe, is likely the only one to say nasty things to Madude. The two live together and constantly bicker profanely—like back-alley cats in a bag.

Then there’s Taylor’s cousin, Bethany, who’s divorcing her cheating husband and having rough sex with a moving-truck driver who draws abs on his stomach. His other cousin, Monte Carlo, is divorced and dealing with three young daughters whom he isn’t sure are even his.

The list of family members and whacky antics stretches on and on.

Their stories will probably make for a movie, Taylor figures. Maybe it’ll make for a hit. Maybe it’ll make the name Taylor Pherry (and his silent “p”) a household name.

Oh, but I forgot to say that the Devil has gotten word about God’s and Taylor’s plans, too. And he’s determined to do everything he can to make sure that the movie in question is an utter disaster. A trainwreck. He’ll make sure that no one will ever want to see this piece of dreck. And he’ll unleash all his hellish powers in his wicked quest.

But the dirty little secret is this: The Devil needn’t bother with that diabolical plot. Taylor will handle all of that on his own.

The post Not Another Church Movie appeared first on Plugged In.

It’s home to rock, dust, ash, bone. The people who live there—hard survivors of cataclysm—wear the tatters of their own humanity around their shoulders. What little hope they stored away was long ago taken from them, ripped open like a carcass and picked at by buzzards.

Perhaps once, the land was green. Perhaps you could listen to water run unhindered, pick red fruit right from the tree. But no more. No more. Such places are history. Myth. Delusion.

Secret.

Furiosa lived in such a place—a place of green trees and cool streams, an Eden where hope still grows ripe and full. And people would do most anything to find it.

Well, a handful of raiders did find it—and they found Furiosa, too. They tied her up and threw her across a bike, hoping to use her as living proof of the hidden paradise. Furiosa’s mother tore after the kidnappers and snatched her beloved daughter away out of the enemy camp. Soon, on the back of a pilfered motorcycle, they were roaring back home.

The raiders, led by the warlord Dementor, tore after them—determined to reclaim their prize and, if possible, descend on Furiosa’s green garden like gas-reeking locusts. Soon Furiosa’s mother was dead and the girl herself was back in their hands.

But before she died, Furiosa’s mom placed a fruit seed in Furiosa’s hands. “Plant this seed,” she told the girl. “Protect the Green Place.”

And so Furiosa has.

She’s been with Dementus for years now—watching him preen and plunder and kill. She’s never spoken a word since her mother died. At first, he kept Furiosa in a cage. But Dementor has taken a shine to the girl, adopting her as his own and calling her, “My Little D.”

Furiosa bides her time. Waiting. Looking for an opportunity to find her way back to the green place.

Dementus’ upcoming meeting with another, rival warlord? The mysterious ruler of the Citadel, Immortan Joe?

It might be one more step toward home.

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