— Posted in Becky is Better, Vampire Noir, WIP - WASP in Peril

Becky is Better [Episode #072]

“Before becoming an Oscar-winning auteur in America, director Miloš Forman burst onto the international scene with the delightful Loves of a Blonde, an endearing mood-pleasing story of broken promises, shattered hearts, and the universality of love. Broken into three largely real-time segments, the film follows a night of romantic pursuits for shoe factory worker Andula, who longs to break out of her drab, provincial routine. Andula follows a piano player named Milda to his parents’ home in Prague. After having had a one-night stand with him when he came through her small working-class town on a gig, she mistakenly believed him when he invited her to meet him again. Of course, when she finally does catch up to him he is unreceptive, as are his ultra-conservative parents, who can barely survive the idea. After numerous attempts to confront him, Andula returns to her hometown and discovers how their relationship has been belittled by the boy’s description to his parents. Forman captures the sixties precisely, which makes the film a joy to watch. The anti-romantic but comic tone exemplifies the Czech New Wave movement. The effortless screenplay is penned by Milos Forman’s longtime friends Vaclav Sasek and Ivan Passer, based on a story by Jaroslav Papousek.”—Essential Art House: Loves of a Blonde [Criterion Co DVD Region 1]

Lake Avenue, off of Lindell Boulevard, is a very private street. The police patrol it to enforce the well-paid-for privacy of its wealthy residents. The body of a French mob’s bagman being dumped unceremoniously in its gated alley is most disconcerting to those selfsame residents. Not to mention the chief of police who lives on Lake Avenue.

Mo a bagman for French organized crime. He was even more out of their league than Betty and Victor ever imagined. And inside of that briefcase of his? Five million dollars: clearly not a petty sum by Margaret’s standards. By her way of thinking, she’d hit the jackpot. The windfall emboldened her to once more thread into the slaphappy criminal netherland of hooliganism. Hence the choice of another Tiffany locale when it came time to dispose of the body of her murder victim.

Sordid. Indiscreet. Public infamy. Reprehensible. Profane. Etc. For Christ’s sake, the man was obviously being worn when he offed himself! You don’t have to be an ME to see that. A blind man could see that arcane’s tell. Worse, the dumping was done in broad daylight, undetected by CCTV. Another arcane usage obviously being employed, maybe even a ROOM.

Discreet, because it went undetected. Indiscreet, because of where and how the body was dumped—(the where) a high visibility location, and (the how) no attempt made whatsoever to hide the use of arcane to use the body (i.e. wear it) and dump the body undetected. Same as with her dumping of the house dick’s body in the parking lot of Straub’s. Only in the case of Gavin’s body, the ME had to do an autopsy to determine that he was being worn at the time of his death. So this how is the worst to date.

Delusions of grandeur. Nobody can catch me. No one can stop me. I’m the greatest … best serial killer in all Creation.

The stereotype … This type of thing is expected to happen in the Gaslight Square area, where supernaturals and mundane mingle indiscriminately. The pitfalls and perils of unchecked miscegenation ensue day and night. In its [Gaslight Square’s] morally rarefied air, ROE is razor thin. Down there, anything and everything is the norm, and the SLPD picks up the pieces 24-7.

The reality … With the exception of the well-known and clearly designated Raspberry Pi [i.e. the perils, hazards, and iffy that are germane to any Red Light District], Gaslight Square is just as safe as Lake Avenue. You’re guaranteed. ROE is ROE.

Caveats? The usual.

Whenever you go somewhere to get your monkey on with the opposite uber species, or just have some fun and games with Them, and/or everything else in-between, you know where you’re supposed to be safe and you know where at any moment you could literally end up Food on the plate.

The operative word is “supposed”. There’s always that risk when miscegenation between supernaturals and mundane is involved, because as mundane you’re always on the menu for something and/or someone.