PAC'T - Now Playing

by rebenga

PAC'T
a new film by spike lee
starring denzel washington, thandie newton, nia long, mark wahlberg and brittany murphy

the fates of four individuals intertwine irrevocably in spike lee's latest auteurial oeuvre, PAC'T. as out-of-work exotic dancer sparla (nia long) drinks at her local rum-hole, worn down from another long day of searching for gigs, she meets D.L. (denzel washington), a sprightly but hard-boiled undercover cop hot to bust up a drug ring led by belgian-ecuadorean antoniano fabreze (mark wahlberg). taking quick and urgent notice of the demimondaine dancer and his brutal attraction to her world-worn lust for life, D.L. seizes the opportunity to send sparla undercover into antoniano's den. little is she prepared for the discovery that the drug lord's queen bitch, kodeene (thandie newton), was once her playmate back in the days of hopscotch and double dutch in bed-stuy.

as the heat rises along with the body count, each one will face a harrowing decision: will they be PAC'Tin' heat, PAC'Tin' up and leaving, or will they be able to keep their PAC'T? and then there is a real-time screwing scene in the warehouse between antoniano and spitfire julie z (brittany murphy).

Pact - Coffee

by Ranger Ted

"Do you promise?"

I promise.

She turned away and walked toward the front of the Dairy Queen. Whatever happens, I'm not going to do that, I thought to myself. Now how the fuck am I going to get out of here?

I had $12 in my jeans and the bus ticket to Casper was $9. I figured I could get hired on to a rig crew pretty fast but I didn't know just how fast. I might have to spend a night on the street before I got picked up. I couldn't get very drunk on $3 I didn't think. I'd have to pull a rabbit out of my hat if I was going to make that crew in Casper. I'd have to make a connection with some girl at the Derrick Room, someone who'd take me home, put me up for a day or so. It wasn't impossible, I'd done it before. It was just that this time it seemed a little more mercenary; this time it seemed a bit more raw. Like I was selling something, selling myself, for a bed and a bottle and place to hide for a day or two.

She looked a lot like one of my sister's friends when she backed into me. It was dark and the lights were flashing red and blue and yellow over the stage where a local band gave its best impression of Aerosmith. She spilled about a quarter of her plastic cup of beer as she stumbled backwards over my work boots. "Hey there, let me give you a hand," I said as I cradled her back against my chest and turned away from the bar.

She thanked me as she turned around, then faced me head on. She was drunk and clearly had been for a while. Her friends across the way first called her name then laughed and turned back to their conversation and game of darts.

"I've seen you here before haven't I?" she said. "Yes, I've been around for a while, I've been just waiting to talk to you," I said. I spent my last $1.50 on that girl and she took me home in her silver Honda Civic. "I don't usually do this," she slurred. "Well, I don't either," I lied.

After she passed out I found $80 in her wallet and a little wad of crystal meth. I took them both and walked up her street as the sun began to light up the lower edge of the mountains off to the east. I figured the rig boss would be hiring at the bus station around 6. A cup of coffee would be perfect.

Pact™ - For Sale

by Shermanilla

When I was ten I won a year's supply of Pact™ candy bars. I didn't like the slightly medicinal-tasting mouth-welding mess of waxy chocolate filled with swirls of orange syrup, rice crispies, and peanut butter. They seemed like candy bars made on a dare, as if candymaker #1 had dared candymaker #2 to take the grossest-tasting leftovers in the candy cabinet mush them together and market them to the world's undiscerning candy addicts. But apparently Pact™ had been selling steadily since 1925 with the slogan "Pact with goodness!" I won them because Patty Horton's mom put one bar in each goodie bag at Patty's 11th birthday party and mine had the winning number on a blue foil star inside the wrapper. I was excited to have won something. I'd never won anything plus it grabbed me lots of attention at popular Patty Horton's house. The fact that i'd won a 30 pound box of candy i couldn't stand wasn't important. I now saw it as my job to aquire a taste for Pact™ candy bars and promote them as if my daddy owned the company, heck, as if I'd invented them myself. I'd always been very obedient that way. For instance, when Mr. Montez, my all-time least favorite teacher, gave me an "A+", I felt it was my duty to like him and talk him up at every opportunity. My slogan could have been, "for sale."

pact - rilke, add water

by s. banauna

we were very young, and very naive. stupid, really, which has been our main strength all along — not knowing any better. and so we made a pact: i will appoint you as the guardian of my solitude. there will be an infinite distance between us. this sounded promising. because the distance would be huge and wide, roomy as an old lincoln continental. and some wheels and the open road sure sounded better than that old pillow over love's face that was comfy but made it hard to breathe. yes, we very much wanted to see the other as whole, and against an immense sky. that sounded good to us, that our solitudes would protect and touch and greet each other. sign us up.

Pact - How To Kill Your Cat

by chairman meow

He was only three and we loved him beyond reason so it was hard to accept it was time to put him down. But we'd promised we wouldn't let it go on and on and on, and in November we'd gone out to her parents' place and dug the hole. There'd be no more pilling him, draining his lungs, counting his heartbeats, listening to him breathe, everything would be over with one more trip to the vet.

So into the car, and when we got there he clung to the carpet for dear life, and I had to fight him and drag him to the end. He definitely knew, and that was the worst.

Between our sniffling and wailing we made the doctor cry, which must be unusual, but she was nice and let us hold him while she put the needle in. His little tongue popped out once and that was it. Then she gave us his body, which is illegal, but it's what decent people do.

We put him in a shoebox with his things and lucky we'd made the grave because by the time we got out there it was a middle of the night, burial in a snowstorm.