R.M. DuChene's Blog

Dream Queen, Free on Amazon 16-20 April

Add to your library. Leave a review…unless you hate it. JK….I think

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B086XM8DPB

CHARLIE COMPANY: SELECTION PART 2

Porter

This blows, Casey thought as she stood in line outside the Career Development office. She was about halfway through, but it took over an hour to get that far. Boredom was beginning to set in. She reached in her jacket pocket but found it empty.

“Shit!” 

That ear sets at the bottom of a septic tank, she thought. She noticed the boy standing in front of her was wearing a set.

“Excuse me…” She said, tapping the boy on the shoulder. He turned, looked her up and down. Casey noticed his clothes were low quality. She’d often see field workers wearing clothes like that. Field Workers receive the lowest rations, so the boy’s clothes were probably handed down from his father – or perhaps an uncle, or older brother. “Can you take out one of your buds?” she asked, pointing at her own ear so he’d hopefully understand what she was saying.

“Don’t need to,” he said. “Power cells died an hour ago”

“So, why keep them in?”

“Good question,” he said, removing the buds. “Guess I just forgot to take them out. He held out his hand. I’m Jose, Jose Marquez.”

“Casey Porter,” she said, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet…” Just then, Casey saw a man in Ministry uniform walking the line, counting off people.  When he reached her, he tapped her shoulder and said, “47”, then continued up the line. “I wonder what that’s about.”

“Dunno,” Jose said. “But I bet it’s not good. Hope they’re not running out of positions already.

Casey felt her stomach tighten. If that happens, she thought, I’m finished.

After the people-counter was finished counting, he went to the exact middle of the line, then turned to face the candidates. 

“Attention!” He yelled.

Everyone just stared at him.

“I said attention, idiots!” He screamed. “That means, stand up perfectly straight and get your fucking backs against the wall!”

The whole line jumped at once and scrambled around each other. They had to push down the length of the wall to get enough room between them. The people counter paced back and forth until they finished. Once they were all standing at attention, the man looked right, then left, then pulled out a small piece of paper.

“Draft Protocol initiated,” the man announced. “You’ll all report to selection immediately.” Most of the candidates moaned out loud. A few began to cry.

“What’s that mean?” Casey whispered, when the people counter was busy looking down the line.

“It means we’re fucked,” Jose whispered back. “Now shush.”

 “As you were!” the uniformed man called out. Then, he executed an abrupt right face and marched off.

Kraven

“Congratulations,” the selection administrator, a tall woman, even when sitting down said. “You made it.”

Alex let out the long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.

“Was I close?”

“You actually did very well, but we can’t give out exact numbers. It’s against the rules,” she said, nodding her head towards a camera mounted in the corner.

 “Oh,” Alex whispered back. “Got it.” The woman handed him a folder. Alex opened it, tried to read it, but it was just a series of numbers.

“Your transporter departs at exactly thirteen hundred hours in front of the building,” the woman said. Don’t be late.”

“Thank you,” Alex said, closing the folder and standing. “I won’t be.” As he left the office, the woman called the next candidate in. When he walked out, Alex was more than a little taken aback by the sight of the hallway. Candidates lined each side of the hall – all the way down to the main entrance. He’d never thought so many people would want to go through Selection. A man holding a clipboard approached as Alex was making his way past the other candidates.

“You make it?” The man asked when he got close.

“Yes sir!” Alex said.

The man stopped, grabbed Alex’s hand, shook it. “Good job, son,” he said. Now you just have to make it through camp.” Then he continued on his way, yelling back, “That’s the hard part!” as he went.

Alex still had a few hours to kill before the transporter arrived. He decided to spend them in the cafeteria – maybe get something to eat. He had a few bills in his pocket, courtesy of his father, but that didn’t matter. His food was the government’s problem now. All he had to do is flash a copy of his orders and they’ll give him whatever he asked for. It’s one of the privileges of service. He decided on a warm ham sandwich, a cookie, and a glass of milk. Then he found an empty booth by a large window overlooking the courtyard and sat down. While he ate, he looked down at the hundred or so people scattered here and there on the grass. Some reading tablets, some walking around. The sight of them struck a nerve. These people know who they are – what they are, he thought. He didn’t know who, or what he’d become in the months ahead. But he did know one thing – he wouldn’t be anything like the useless bags of meat in the courtyard. He wanted to be more – so much more

Marquez

Jose was irritated.

Being pulled away from the Career Development office and told that he was a volunteer for selection was bad enough but being paired with this Casey girl wasn’t cool at all. He thought (maybe) she was a little cool, but damn… she never shut up! Even after another hour in line, she was still droning on – now about how unfair this draft protocol thing was. At least they were getting close to the front of the line. Suddenly, the door to the selection office swung open. A tall woman with a stern expression marched out, followed close by the man who was counting shoulders an hour earlier. The man was still holding his clipboard. The woman carried a large stack of folders. Two other ministry workers followed them out of the office, one carrying a table, the other, a chair. They set up the table and chair at the end of the hall. Once the woman sat down at the table, she sorted the folders into a few different stacks, completely ignoring the remaining candidates. Only after she finished did she acknowledge their presence.

“Does anyone here have any medical problems?” She asked. A few candidates raised their hands. “Very good,” she said. “Please follow Mr. Clark to the medical offices.” When the candidates didn’t immediately move, Mr. Clark (the counter man) stepped in front of the table.

“Move your fucking asses!” He screamed. They moved then, bolting from the line and forming another line of their own, in front of Mr. Clark. “Right,” Mr. Clark said. “You better fucking move when you’re told, maggots!” He spun left, yelled at them to march, and chased them down the hall. Once Mr. Clark was well out of range, Jose turned to Casey.

“Kind of an asshole, huh?”

For once, Casey didn’t say anything. She just nodded.

“You should show more respect,” the boy behind Jose said. Jose turned.

“And why’s that?” Jose asked. He towered over the boy, but the boy wasn’t intimidated. He smiled up at Jose, then said, “Well, for starters, he’s a Brother.” Jose looked down the hall, at the feeble, middle-aged herding the broken candidates to medical.

“That guy?” He said, shaking his head. “No freaking way”

“It’s true,” The boy (Brooks, according to his nametape) said. “I mean he’s not active anymore, obviously. But he’s a Brother. A brother is always a brother, right?”

“That certainly explains why he’s such a dick.” Jose said, and turned back to face the Ministry woman, who was staring back at him, her eyebrows furrowed. She pulled a file from the first stack, opened it.

“When I call your name, line up in front of the desk,” she said. One by one, she called up the remaining candidates – handed them their orders, shook their hands. “Congratulations on being selected,” She said – to each one of them. Then, “Your transport will depart from the front of the building at thirteen hundred hours. Do not be late.”

Master Sergeant Evans

Master Sergeant Evans stood at the window of his office, surveying the camp down the hill.  From his perch, he could see the entire perimeter of the training site. 

“Sheila,” he said, “How many cadets enroute?”

A panel at the center of the desk slid open. A large, bright-lit monitor rose. Once erected, the monitor spun slowly at its base until the screen faced the Master Sergeant.

“A full complement,” a feminine voice announced. “One-hundred-fifty recruits.”

“ETA?”

“Precisely seventeen hundred hours.”

Master Sergeant Evans looked at his communicator. Less than fifteen minutes to go. He pressed a switch on the side and began to bark out orders to his cadre. “Alert all group leaders,” he shouted. “I want them in position in five minutes”

“Roger, Master Sergeant,” a shaky voice responded.

“Oh – and contact the dining facility manager! Make sure evening chow is ready when they arrive. They’ll probably be hungry.”

“Roger, Master Sergeant!” Master Sergeant Evans lowered the communicator and, still staring out the window, he pulled a dusty black cap from his cargo pocket, placed it on his head. “This meal will probably be their last bit of peace for quite a while,” he said. It was time to get busy.

To be continued…

Updates from the Couch: Day 21

No bullshit,

Today, there’s no talk about Trolls, or Closet Demons. Just raw truth. I’ve been removed from my job for over three weeks. They call it “working from home” but I don’t really feel like I’m getting much work done, and even worse, they don’t seem to give a shit. Here I sit, imagining all sorts of Trolls and Demons, and they’re up there, in the building…making a difference. I’m not sure what else to write, other than…it sucks ass. It sucks ass that I know I can make a difference, especially in the protection field, but because of a diagnosis, they pushed me out. That’s not only how I feel, it’s what’s really happening. It appears the stigma when it comes to depression and bipolar disorder is alive and well.

I’m considering writing a tell-all book, maybe title it, Football Bat, just to summarize how fucking stupid this organization really is. I dunno. I’ll think on it. Who knows what I’ll think tomorrow?

All I can say is that if you suffer from bipolar disorder, panic attacks, it’s not your fault – and it sure doesn’t mean you’re weak! You’re strong just for surviving so long.

Do what I do. Focus on your significant other, your babies. Where would they be if you folded your hand? Fuck that.

Anyway. Just a little note – as I don’t really feel like dreaming up something fantastical tonight. Think I’ll be on tomorrow.

Goodnight. God Bless.

CHARLIE COMPANY: SELECTION – PART 1

Kraven

Alex stared at his face in the mirror. He was looking for any sign that he was an official adult now. Sixteen years old – a legal adult. But he didn’t think he looked any different than he did yesterday when he was just a kid. He certainly didn’t feel any different. He was excited. He knew that he was about to have the best day of his life. He was finally old enough for selection – a series of mental and physical evaluations used to gauge a citizen’s suitability for service in the North American Republic (NAR). 

His whole life, Alex dreamed of being a member of Charlie Company. Now he’d begin down the path to fulfilling that dream. If he should make it through selection, he’d be one of the lucky few to go to Camp – where only one recruit would get to graduate and join Charlie Company’s ranks.

The amount of time a candidate spends at Selection depends on how well they do. If a candidate doesn’t score high enough on evaluations, they are assigned a career path more suitable to their talents. Those who do well on an evaluation, moves on to the next. The Career Assignment offices and Selection offices were in the same building. Washouts didn’t have to travel far to get into the long line to have their alternate career path assigned. The Selection line tended to get smaller as the process continued.

A small knock rattled on the bathroom door.

“Alweks?” It was his little brother.  “Mommy said to tell you that we’ll be waiting in the car and dad said that you should hurry your ass up!”

Instantly annoyed, Alex said, “Tell them I’m coming, Booger Boy!” I can’t wait to get the hell out of this house, he thought.

“I’m gonna tell mommy you called me Booger Boy again!” His brother cried and stomped off.

Now happy again, Alex pulled a small black comb from his back pocket and ran it through his long, brown, unkempt hair. After that, he thought he was ready. He took one last look at the mirror. “You got this.” Then he snapped to the position of attention and saluted himself.

“Took you long enough,” Alex’s father said when Alex climbed into the backseat of the family 2239 Chevy Comet. “I hope you know they won’t tolerate tardiness where you’re going.” Alex rolled his eyes, told his ear implants to play his favorite song, and drowned out the world. His father pressed a silver button on the front console of the car.

“Destination?” The car asked.

“Ministry of Career Development.”

“Acknowledged.” The car responded. “Initiating safety features. Please do not attempt to exit the vehicle while it is in motion. ETA approximately 16 minutes taking best route. Enjoy the ride.

Marquez

They sound like a bunch of chickens all clucking over one another, Jose thought. He was sitting in one of the very back seats of the midtown express – bound for the Ministry of Career Development to find out what career field he would be stuck in for the rest of his life. The prospect didn’t excite him in the slightest. The past five generations of Marquez men were selected for field duty. The women – factory workers. Basic logic told Jose that he’ll be working in the fields with his father by next week. He scored very high on the Secondary Education Exams. But he knew it wouldn’t make any difference. His family migrated from a hostile nation, so they couldn’t join the party. He knew he was screwed no matter how well he did. The transporter slowed down and stopped under a mound-shaped structure. Covered with dirt and vegetation, with a tunnel at its base, it looked natural enough, except for the ten large solar panels fixed on its crest. They looked like giant silver wings, evenly spaced, pointing towards the sky. Of course, Just about every structure in the country had solar panels. The law dictated it. The train pulled to a slow stop and the doors along each side hissed as they slid upward. A large group of pushed and squeezed their way onto the outside platform.

Lines of people were forming in front of each of the doors.

“Please wait to enter the transporter until instructed.” The train announced. Once the lines outside were full, the train said, “You may now enter. Please watch your step. Welcome aboard”

Once everyone was safe on board the transporter, the side doors slid back into place. There was an audible, “pshhh” as the magnetic doors sealed, and the cabin pressurized. The Transporter took off at a fast pace. Within seconds, the buildings and trees outside were flying by in a blur. Jose wondered just how fast transporters ran. They must be pretty quick to travel from one side of the city to the other under ten minutes. The Capitol spanned over 200 miles.

Should be there in about five minutes, Jose thought. Just enough time to listen to some music.

He pulled out his music player, put the buds in his ear. After a few seconds of he-hawing over what to listen to, he selected random and let the machine pick a song for him. He didn’t really like music all that much. But he figured it would take some of the edge off his nerves. Somewhere between the first and second song, he drifted off.

“Hey, kid,” a stranger’s voice said.  Jose jolted awake. A tall man wearing a ministry style suit was standing over him, his hand on Jose’s shoulder. “Hey kid. You supposed to be getting off here?”

“Huh… what? Where are we?” Jose asked.

“You’re at the Ministry of Career Development, kid. Where you getting off at?”

Jose turned his head, peered out the window. The transporter had come to rest in front of a large, white building. Across the front of the building, a sign read, MINISTRY OF CAREER DEVELOPMENT.

“Yes, thank you.” He said. “I must’ve dozed off.”

He weaved his way through a clot of bunched people to the side-door and exited the Transporter. Outside, thousands more people crowded the walkways in front of the Ministry. Jose pushed his way to the center of the walkway, then paused, staring up at the massive building. That was when he really felt nervous the first time. He let out a long breath.

“Better to get it over with quick,” he said to himself. He made his way toward the main entrance.

Porter

“Get the hell back here, you stupid bitch!”

Those were the last words Casey Porter’s Father ever said to her. He’d been drinking again and was “in possession,” as she liked to call it. Although, there was nothing at all likeable about him when he was drunk.

He hadn’t always been a boozehound. Before her mom died, Casey couldn’t remember a single time her father ever took a drink. Of course, she was very young when her mother died, so maybe she couldn’t remember that far back. He drank like a pro now. She ran about four blocks before slowing to a fast walk.

There’s a transporter station about two miles from here. Just keep walking. She thought.

She had to hurry. The doors to the Ministry of Career Development lock shut at 0900. If she’s late, she’ll have to wait, at least a month to reschedule. If that happened, she’d be forced to go home. She shuddered in the warm summer air.

“I’ll step in front of a transporter before I’d let that happen,” she said out loud. She made it to the station just as the last people were boarding, squeezed into a seat by the door, let out a sigh of relief. Her watch read 0836 – just enough time to make it. She relaxed a little. A monitor hanging from the ceiling displayed the up-to-date news from the capitol reporters every five minutes. The newscaster spouting about tensions between the Southern American Territories and the N.A.R.

“Talks are under way to sway the S.A.T. from further blockades of trade ships over international waters,” the newscaster said. “The Prime Minister issued a warning to the S.A.T., stating that the N.A.R. is prepared to settle the dispute in Combat if a resolution isn’t reached soon.” Casey turned from the monitor. She’d never cared much for political issues. She wasn’t about to start now. There’s always one bullshit argument or another going on between the Ministry and the S.A.T. This one will end peacefully. They always do – usually. Her left pocket vibrated. She pulled out her ear set, pressed the power button. A hologram appeared about three inches above the top. Her father was calling.

“Yeah Right,” She dismissed the call, put ear-set back in her pocket. At the rear of the transporter, a small room was stashed between two side-rows of seats. The sign above the door displayed that one was the restroom – the other unoccupied. She looked at her ear-set and smiled. I know just what to do with you, she thought.

The transporter slowed to a stop in front of an enormous, white structure.

“You’re now at the Ministry of Career Development,” a voice announced. Then, after the doors slid open, “You may exit the transporter.” Casey checked the time – 0945.  She pushed through the line of people squeezing through the door, then stood on the walkway – staring up at a massive, ivory-white. Her mouth hung open.

“Holy Shit,” she said. Then, once the initial shock of the size of the structure dissipated, Casey worked her way through the maze of people and entered the building. The large front office had a single counter that stretched the length of the room. Folks in ministry uniforms in straight back chairs sat along the counter staring at computer monitors.

“Name?” a woman whose nametag read, Maggie asked. She had absolutely no expression on her face. She could have been talking to a post.

“Uh, Casey, Casey Porter”

The woman looked up from her monitor, scanned Casey up and down.

“Running kind of late, aren’t we?”

Yeah…I mean, yes,” Casey said. “But I made it, right?”

The woman seemed not to hear her. She typed some lines, then a machine made a loud buzzing sound. A few seconds later, a name tag printed from a different machine. The woman tore the name tag free, handed it to the girl.  

“Through the door…to the left,” she said. “Have a nice day”

Mr. Everett

“This can’t be.” Louis Everett stared at the figures on his monitor. “Re-assess.” The monitor flashed, re-compiled, then displayed the same numbers.  “What’s the quota this month?” The monitor flashed again. Mr. Everett studied the screen. “Display both.” Both reports displayed, side by side. Shit!” He said, just as his ear set vibrated. He pressed the answer button. Five minutes later he was standing in front of the Assistant Prime Minister.

 “Do you know why I called you here?” the Vice Prime Minister asked.

 Mr. Everett didn’t respond – but he knew.

“No?” said the VPM, “How are your numbers looking this month?”

“It’s the addition of the Charlie Company recruits bringing down the numbers,” Louis said. “We only recruit for Charlie Company once a year.”

“Unfortunately, that’s where you failed, Mr. Everett,” the Vice Prime Minister said. “We need to fill one-hundred fifty positions for Camp. We only have eighty volunteer’s – country wide. You do the math!” “Your incompetence created for us a major problem. You have a solution?” Mr. Everett pondered the question for a few seconds.

“It may be Sir that the only option we have is to eliminate the selection process and send them all to Camp.”

The Vice Prime Minister’s expression darkened.

“Mr. Everett, I wasn’t sure when I called you up here, but it is obvious to me now that you’re a complete idiot. We’ll never lower our standards for the sake of numbers. You’re officially relived from your duties. You’ll clean out your office and report to the Career Development Office for reassignment. I’ll call down there later and let them know where I want you placed. You understand?”

Mr. Everett’s eyes began to water. “Good!” The Vice Prime minister screamed. “You’re dismissed! Mr. Everett snapped to attention, performed an about face, and left the office. After he was gone, the Vice Prime Minister instructed his monitor to construct and deliver a message to all Ministry of Career Development offices, ordering them to execute the draft protocol.  If we can’t get enough volunteers, he thought; They’ll be volen-told. Approximately ten minutes later, Mr. Louis Everett was found by his secretary, sitting in his chair, the back of his head splattered across the wall behind him. His belongings – neatly organized in a box by the door.

Updates from the Couch: Day 20

Okay; I’m not going to lie. My wife’s right – I’m a huge wuss.

So, it seems that, according to the Toilet Demon, the Closet Troll has an aversion to being cold. I don’t want to be responsible for the dude’s death! Seriously though, they’re both in the closet right now, drinking tea and eating my bagels. I can hear them laughing just now. You know what? My wife is right! I am a huge wuss. Still, it’s better to try and live together instead of having all the BS / Jerry Springer / crap going on, right? Okay – yeah…. I’m a big wuss. Heart like Jell-O…for the most part.

Anyways…I hope your day is going well. Mine has been great. I spent some time with the greatest love of my life, then took the baby downstairs for a bit to play. It’s been a pretty regular da… What the hell was that? I just heard a loud banging sound from the kitchen…I’ll be right back.

These mother fuc… nope – I’ll restrain myself.

Well, it seems that while I was having a human moment, these pricks filed the proper paperwork to evict me – from my own freaking house! Now I know why they’re laughing. That’s it, I’m getting them both out of here. They’ll stay here one more night over my dead body. And, if I don’t leave an update tomorrow, you’ll know that’s what happened. So please make sure you tell the feds that shit.

How the hell do you evict someone from their own freakin house? Please, can someone explain that to me? This paperwork looks all legal n shit, so now I’ll have to get with my lawyer and figure this out. It never fails…just when I try and do something good, it bites me on the ass! I didn’t refrain that time (sorry kids).

Welp, anyone that knows me, knows that I always keep a loaded weapon in my home. I mean…if it comes down to it. I was already up all night, cleaning shit-demon prints off my ceiling with a mop and telescopic handle. Then I actually felt sorry for the turds? Not going to happen again. I’ll get Johnny up in the morning, and these arse-faces are outta here!

 But tonight…it’s chill time. I’m going to do some writing in solitude… well, except for the sounds f laughter coming from the closet. Pricks. Your hours are ticking away. More update tomorrow

Horror and Fantasy / Science Fiction

Hello all!

I dropped in just to let you know that I’ve published two Amazon Short Titles – The Dream Queen and Other Stories, and The Zombie Test and Other Chilling Tales. Check them out…if you dare! Muah ha ha ha ha….voice cracks. Seriously though, I’d appreciate it. If you want to read and not be bothered with the whole, .99 cent thing, just msg me. I’ll send you a .pdf of the manuscript. The only thing I ask is for your feedback, because there’s definitely more coming. Take care and have a haunted evening.

R.M. DuChene

Updates from the Couch: Day 19

I’m not sure where to begin – with the million old man march at Safeway this morning, or the shitty footprints I saw when I returned home. You know what? Never mind about the old people at Safeway, I’m sure you all have your own experience with that. But on the flip-side, if you’ve never experienced a Toilet Demon, listen up.

So, when I say, “shitty footprints,” I’m sure you are all thinking, like across the floor, right?

Arnghhhh! Wrong! These feet-prints not only tracked across the floor, but also went up the walls, across the 30 foot high ceiling… I’m telling you, it’s insane. Now, I’m not only sure I’ve pissed off the Toilet Demon, I’m also positive he let the Closet Troll back in as soon as I left. I wouldn’t think so, but for the bagels, covered in Garden Cream Cheese decorating my kitchen walls right now. Hold up…baby needs a change.

Okay, I’m back. As I was saying. This shit is getting out of hand. I only wanted to evict one little loafer, now I have two…and they’re not very nice. Seems I have to get my wife in on this. She’s not like me at all – she would’ve blasted the dicks right away. I tried to be a gentleman about this situation, but it seems, drastic times call for drastic… well, you know. I’ll get with her and work out a game plan. I actually feel bad for the supernatural creatures if she gets involved. But they can only blame themselves.

In other news, I’m about to publish my second collection of Amazon. Show some love of you liked my stories. If not – feel free to leave a comment and tell me why. I’m working on a horror Novella right now that I think you’ll like. But any feedback will certainly be used while I’m editing it. Whoops! I hear them again. I got to go. But I’ll leave an update tomorrow.

Bye friends…for now.

This is How It Ends?

This is how it ends?

Not with a whimper

But a, what the fuck?

Good news!

There’s plenty of cola left

But if you need to wipe your ass

You’re shit outta luck

And the people at the market

Don’t get me started

Half wearing masks

Half socially retarded

I want to grab them hard

shout in their faces

But I don’t want the plague

So, I maintain my six paces

Locked in my home

Watching news day and night

Death numbers rising

But dr. Orange says

It’ll all be alright

This is how it ends?

Kids actually trying

to infect themselves

to ensure old folks dying?

What the fuck?

Is all I can say.

If that’s how the world is

We’re long dead anyway.

Updates from the Couch: Day 18

So far, so good. Yeah, right!

Kept the baby upstairs this morning, dragged the eighteen-year-old out of bed. I needed to evict a Closet Troll, and the little bastard was going to be tough to get rid of. Johnny (my son) has this giant stick he likes to swing around in the backyard like a ninja. I figured that having Johnny and his stick would be better than going it with just myself and a spatula. I thought he’d be annoyed, but he was delighted to help.

We snuck downstairs just after dawn and positioned ourselves by the closet door – waiting for sounds of movement within. Sure enough, after a few minutes, something behind the door began to stir. This is where things get interesting.

Once the noise was so frequent and loud that I was positive the little shit was close, I flung the door open. The Troll looked up at us looming above him and…he shit. Yes…that’s right, he let out a large fart and crapped his pants.

“Get him,” I yelled to Johnny, who was standing beside me, his ninja stick held up in a karate attack stance. The little Troll was frozen in terror, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. “Get him!” I yelled again. “Before he pulls his pants up and gets off the box!” Johnny swung (swing away Johnny), and hits the bastard in the temple. It let’s out a yelp, falls sideways off the box, and shits again. I cursed out loud since I knew I’d have to clean up all those Troll feces at some point. I leaned over, snatched the Troll by the color of his button-down dress shirt (mine!) and dragged him (his pants still around his ankles) to the front door. Johnny rushed ahead and opened the door. I through the little shit out. “Go party in someone else’s house you little douche-nozzle!” I yelled. The Troll slid, face-first, across the walkway. I slammed the door, high-fived Johnny, and went to the couch to get some work done.

About an hour later, as I was filling out another exciting spreadsheet, I heard heavy breathing coming from just inside the hallway. I threw my laptop to the side – not believing the audacity of the Closet Troll to sneak back into my home after I kicked him out. What the actual f@#$! I went to the hallway to confront him, but instead found myself staring into the eyes of a large, brown and green, gelatinous creature. It looked back at me and growled. It seems that the Closet Troll’s friend wasn’t another troll after all. Nope. It was a toilet demon – and he was pissed. I’m hiding now, until it goes to sleep. I’ll update you all tomorrow.

Queen of the zombies

Tell them what you are going to tell them.

That night it was particularly dark and grim, there was a evil glint to the stars in the sky, not their usual brilliance did I see with my eyes… As I continued down that wooded road, in search of that house in the hidden grove, I was worried but unafraid, I knew the path so very well, I started skipping, then slowed at the smell…The pathway was suddenly littered with dead bodies, I can only assume, coronavirus zombies, they had in their heads been double tapped…ahead the hidden grove where had once been our home, there were live ones creeping around for a chance, stumbling around in some strange zombie dance, I decided I had to disembark, I had to inform my crew, there was nothing more that I could do … And as I turned I heard a distorted laugh, I was trapped in a coronavirus zombie smash, not…

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