Evil Editor's Blog, page 431

New Beginning 659

The heavy wooden doors, engraved with the image of a dragon, swung slowly open on their iron hinges, revealing a lone figure, a man. Immediately the two guards that had been leaning against the door fell to the ground. Dead.

The intruder cleaned and sheathed the twin short swords he carried, one on either side. He was fairly tall, with straight black hair, crystalline blue eyes, and golden-brown skin that rippled over muscle and sinew. His attire was dark and austere. His only accessories were th

Synopsis 16

This synopsis goes with the Face-Lift that appeared July 3. If you haven't read that yet, and you like to play Guess the Plot, scroll down now, as you are about to encounter spoilers.





Hang The Thief - Synopsis
Genre: Fantasy
Author: _______________

A misguided and outcast scholar unwittingly is used by a demon to open gates that bring great evil into the world. The deities as a result awaken and give their faithful the power to save lives. [How long have the deities been asleep? It would be annoyin

Cartoon 421

Caption: Mother (Re)produces

Your caption on the next cartoon! Link in sidebar.

Writing Exercise Results . . .

. . . are in the posts below. The task was to write a scene in which Evil Editor makes his case to the College of Cardinals for being the next pope.

Pope Interview 11

A rose—who cares what kind of rose; a rose is a rose is a rose and that's pretty uplifting, just like toothpaste squirted on a sultry mirror and smeared there like Crisco on a car window like this guy I heard on Car Talk just the other day who said he pranked somebody's car by stuffing a ton of teabags in the window—yeah, a rose by any other name—yes, name, that's what I'm getting to because you're all so fixated on names when a rose by any other name would smell—no, I do not smell, that's proba

Pope Interview 10

Evil knelt and bowed his head, his only head, his made-my-mind-up, sure-as-eggs-is-eggs-even-ostrich-(though-never-for-breakfast-jeez-they're-way-too-big) head — as much a part of him as any other of his anatomical features (or combinations thereof) (for he was neither a cyborg nor an amputee) — a head grown from spermy ovummy brain-seed to bushiest muttonchop dame-suck cactus as if tended by some knowledgeable shepherd of renown, like maybe with a neuroscience degree or advanced medical trainin

Pope Interview 9

The air was filled with the sound of bells, and sunshine poured down over St. Peter's Square (for it is in Vatican City that we set our scene) like golden syrup from a tin bought on special offer from Tesco's at 99p each.

Inside the Sistine Chapel, Evil Editor paced up and down before the College of Cardinals like a very portly caged ocelot with muttonchops.

"Consider," he declaimed, "how all human experience comes before me, albeit over-written and badly punctuated. Consider how I understand suff

Pope Interview 8

Walking into a room filled with squawking geezers, Evil Editor, his voice booming like God's the first time he caught Adam polishing the bishop, yelled, "HEY, KNOCK IT OFF," adding, "Holy Christ, I haven't seen this much red since the time I edited Stallone's autobiography."

"Who the hell are you?!" the fat one said. Actually, they were all fat, as you'd expect of guys who hit the buffet at Mama Rosa's Lasagna Conclave every day.

"I'm here about the opening," EE replied.

"The janitorial position? C

Pope Interview 7

Tear-laden cumulonimbus clouds scudded like Korean missiles over Vatican City as the Dean of the College of Cardinals, his red robes billowing like a blood-stained Jolly Roger, returned from the Papal balcony with tear-soaked hanky and red-rimmed eyes that only moments before glanced up to the ever-vigilant statues of the Baptist, the Redeemer and the Evangelist who stood upright like teenage willies and watched over the Church's minions filling Saint Peter's Square where the Dean had announced

Pope Interview 6

It was a Dark Ages and stormy night, while the Romans, complacently in their soft chairs like a baby at her mother's britches, made of soft cotton, which was like silk but not quite that soft, unaware of the looming invasion of the Goths and Visigoths that would put the empire into a fall like a bird felled by a larger, scarier Gothic or Visigoth bird of prey, worried only about their own little piece of the empire, that St. Augustine of Hippo first considered the notion of unmerited grace, but