Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 104
March 17, 2016
Hulk Hogan Dream
***HULK HOGAN DREAM***
I’ve always known that dreams could be an awesome source of creative fuel. I never expected one of them to be a short story idea for the WSS. Now that I’m wide awake and I’ve processed everything that happened in the dream, I’m not sure if it’ll even become a future story. Maybe I could be convinced into writing it by whoever’s reading this blog entry. Ready or not, here it comes!
The main character in the story was played by me, though I don’t remember the person’s name. All I know is that I was captured by an alien race with squid-like faces and taken to their flying saucer’s prison cells. They should have patted me down for weaponry before locking me up, because I had the one weapon that would put me in beast mode forever: Hulk Hogan’s Hall of Fame ring. I slipped it on my finger and transformed into the former WWE wrestler, the healthy 1980’s version. I ripped the bars off the cell and started beating the crap out of squid-faced aliens with big boots, clotheslines, suplexes, body slams, and leg drops (did I get all of his five moves of doom?). And then I got to the helm of the ship where the master alien was waiting for me. Soon I was joined by The Ultimate Warrior and the two of us beat the crap out of the alien leader together. I woke up thinking this would make a good short story idea, but now I’m not sure.
And now that I think about it, if I did write this story, it would be considered fan fiction since WWE owns the name Hulk Hogan. Although, with the racism scandal in 2015, they don’t want anything to do with him anymore and pretty much scrubbed him from their history. So the question now becomes, if I write this story and it’s considered fan fiction, can I be sued for publishing it and if so, by who: Hulk Hogan himself or the WWE? At this point, I’m better off using an entirely different character instead of Hogan, but it wouldn’t have the same effect or meaning. Copyright laws are fickle bitches.
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“Team PCB calling themselves the most dominant divas in WWE is like Donald Trump saying his favorite holiday is Cinqo De Mayo.”
-Nikki Bella-
I’ve always known that dreams could be an awesome source of creative fuel. I never expected one of them to be a short story idea for the WSS. Now that I’m wide awake and I’ve processed everything that happened in the dream, I’m not sure if it’ll even become a future story. Maybe I could be convinced into writing it by whoever’s reading this blog entry. Ready or not, here it comes!
The main character in the story was played by me, though I don’t remember the person’s name. All I know is that I was captured by an alien race with squid-like faces and taken to their flying saucer’s prison cells. They should have patted me down for weaponry before locking me up, because I had the one weapon that would put me in beast mode forever: Hulk Hogan’s Hall of Fame ring. I slipped it on my finger and transformed into the former WWE wrestler, the healthy 1980’s version. I ripped the bars off the cell and started beating the crap out of squid-faced aliens with big boots, clotheslines, suplexes, body slams, and leg drops (did I get all of his five moves of doom?). And then I got to the helm of the ship where the master alien was waiting for me. Soon I was joined by The Ultimate Warrior and the two of us beat the crap out of the alien leader together. I woke up thinking this would make a good short story idea, but now I’m not sure.
And now that I think about it, if I did write this story, it would be considered fan fiction since WWE owns the name Hulk Hogan. Although, with the racism scandal in 2015, they don’t want anything to do with him anymore and pretty much scrubbed him from their history. So the question now becomes, if I write this story and it’s considered fan fiction, can I be sued for publishing it and if so, by who: Hulk Hogan himself or the WWE? At this point, I’m better off using an entirely different character instead of Hogan, but it wouldn’t have the same effect or meaning. Copyright laws are fickle bitches.
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“Team PCB calling themselves the most dominant divas in WWE is like Donald Trump saying his favorite holiday is Cinqo De Mayo.”
-Nikki Bella-
March 14, 2016
Congratulations, Piper!
***CONGRATULATIONS, PIPER!***
Early this morning, my cute little squeaker kitty Piper was named Cat of the Day. Sitka came before her in 2014 and the tradition continues in 2016 with Piper-Diaper. So congratulations, little Squeak, for capturing the hearts of the internet with your diva charm! You’re getting extra petting tonight! The link to Piper’s Cat of the Day nomination can both be found in my Deviant Art ID widget and in this blog entry. Go ahead: soak it all in! ^_^
http://catoftheday.com/archive/2016/M...
It’s also worth a few seconds of your time to read the sweet comments from the Cat of the Day community. Everybody loves Piper-Diaper! If it seems like I’m living vicariously through the fame of my cat, it’s because I am. Then again, giving an animal a good home and a happy life is an important thing for all pet owners to do. You may have a nice, friendly Piper in your home as well who depends on you for love and petting. ^_^
***COMPUTER SITUATION UPDATE***
The new computer works great and it’s all thanks to my awesome brother James for helping me set it up and not allowing me to make the same downloading mistakes I made with the first one. There’s going to be a lot more animal pictures, dark fantasy warrior drawings, and most importantly, literature. Lots and lots of literature. I didn’t leave the internet: I took a three day vacation. Now, let’s get some work done!
***ANIMAL QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“Squeak!”
-Piper, March 14th, 2016 Cat of the Day-
Early this morning, my cute little squeaker kitty Piper was named Cat of the Day. Sitka came before her in 2014 and the tradition continues in 2016 with Piper-Diaper. So congratulations, little Squeak, for capturing the hearts of the internet with your diva charm! You’re getting extra petting tonight! The link to Piper’s Cat of the Day nomination can both be found in my Deviant Art ID widget and in this blog entry. Go ahead: soak it all in! ^_^
http://catoftheday.com/archive/2016/M...
It’s also worth a few seconds of your time to read the sweet comments from the Cat of the Day community. Everybody loves Piper-Diaper! If it seems like I’m living vicariously through the fame of my cat, it’s because I am. Then again, giving an animal a good home and a happy life is an important thing for all pet owners to do. You may have a nice, friendly Piper in your home as well who depends on you for love and petting. ^_^
***COMPUTER SITUATION UPDATE***
The new computer works great and it’s all thanks to my awesome brother James for helping me set it up and not allowing me to make the same downloading mistakes I made with the first one. There’s going to be a lot more animal pictures, dark fantasy warrior drawings, and most importantly, literature. Lots and lots of literature. I didn’t leave the internet: I took a three day vacation. Now, let’s get some work done!
***ANIMAL QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“Squeak!”
-Piper, March 14th, 2016 Cat of the Day-
March 12, 2016
Computer Situation
***COMPUTER SITUATION***
Hey, everybody. I told some people on Good Reads and Face Book about my current computer situation, but I haven’t gone into full detail until now. So, ready or not, here it goes. Yesterday evening, I bought a new computer from Best Buy since my most recent one is nine years old and freezes too often for my tastes. I set up the new computer and do my usual things from downloading Google Chrome, downloading AVG Antivirus, and installing Microsoft Office 2003 (since it’s the only software that will read my backed up writing files).
So far, so good. And then I start ripping CD’s onto the new computer using Windows Media Player and that’s when everything turned to shit. Some CD’s were skipping even though they’re in mint condition and some CD’s have tracks that won’t rip at all (“Apex Predator” by Cavalera Conspiracy). And then when I want to use WMA or any other program for that matter, the computer freezes and goes to a black screen. Once I’m on the black screen, I’m not capable of doing anything, so I have to shut down the computer by hitting the power button.
The moral of the story: new computers shouldn’t freeze or act up in any way, shape, or form. Earlier today, we exchanged the recently bought freezing computer for a brand new one that hasn’t been set up yet. Chances are, the second computer will be better since two defective computers in one sitting is highly unlikely. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have a backup plan. And a backup plan to go with that backup plan. And a backup plan to go with that backup plan. And so on and so forth.
I’m currently using my parents’ downstairs computer to write this journal, but it’s not the same as having my own, which means a few things will be hindered until the new computer is set up and a-okay. I had to drop out of the WSS contest this week, so there won’t be a short story called “Ninja” in the near future, though I may write it after the contest is over and add it to Poison Tongue Tales 2: Warrior Spirit anyways. There also won’t be rock songs for the day on Face Book and there won’t be any other forms of creativity until the computer is ready to go. Technology frustrates me, yet I can’t do business without it. Reina once joked that I was in an abusive relationship with my old computer. I can’t say she’s wrong or that she’s not funny. Hehe!
If it seems like I’m not on the internet as often as I used to be, it’s because of everything I just explained in this blog entry. I will say this: one way or another, my creative career will continue. I will have a working computer and I will keep plugging away. It’s hard to maintain a gung-ho attitude about all of this given how angry I get at malfunctioning technology, but it may be my saving grace. Good manners don’t cost anything, never forget Pink Floyd lyrics.
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“I’ll believe a long-nosed Pinocchio before I believe anything Kevin Owens has to say.”
-Byron Saxton aka BS-
Hey, everybody. I told some people on Good Reads and Face Book about my current computer situation, but I haven’t gone into full detail until now. So, ready or not, here it goes. Yesterday evening, I bought a new computer from Best Buy since my most recent one is nine years old and freezes too often for my tastes. I set up the new computer and do my usual things from downloading Google Chrome, downloading AVG Antivirus, and installing Microsoft Office 2003 (since it’s the only software that will read my backed up writing files).
So far, so good. And then I start ripping CD’s onto the new computer using Windows Media Player and that’s when everything turned to shit. Some CD’s were skipping even though they’re in mint condition and some CD’s have tracks that won’t rip at all (“Apex Predator” by Cavalera Conspiracy). And then when I want to use WMA or any other program for that matter, the computer freezes and goes to a black screen. Once I’m on the black screen, I’m not capable of doing anything, so I have to shut down the computer by hitting the power button.
The moral of the story: new computers shouldn’t freeze or act up in any way, shape, or form. Earlier today, we exchanged the recently bought freezing computer for a brand new one that hasn’t been set up yet. Chances are, the second computer will be better since two defective computers in one sitting is highly unlikely. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have a backup plan. And a backup plan to go with that backup plan. And a backup plan to go with that backup plan. And so on and so forth.
I’m currently using my parents’ downstairs computer to write this journal, but it’s not the same as having my own, which means a few things will be hindered until the new computer is set up and a-okay. I had to drop out of the WSS contest this week, so there won’t be a short story called “Ninja” in the near future, though I may write it after the contest is over and add it to Poison Tongue Tales 2: Warrior Spirit anyways. There also won’t be rock songs for the day on Face Book and there won’t be any other forms of creativity until the computer is ready to go. Technology frustrates me, yet I can’t do business without it. Reina once joked that I was in an abusive relationship with my old computer. I can’t say she’s wrong or that she’s not funny. Hehe!
If it seems like I’m not on the internet as often as I used to be, it’s because of everything I just explained in this blog entry. I will say this: one way or another, my creative career will continue. I will have a working computer and I will keep plugging away. It’s hard to maintain a gung-ho attitude about all of this given how angry I get at malfunctioning technology, but it may be my saving grace. Good manners don’t cost anything, never forget Pink Floyd lyrics.
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“I’ll believe a long-nosed Pinocchio before I believe anything Kevin Owens has to say.”
-Byron Saxton aka BS-
March 10, 2016
Song of Myself
***SONG OF MYSELF***
This past Monday night, instead of watching WWE Raw, I went to the Showbox SoDo in Seattle to listen to the epic music of Nightwish along with their opening acts Sonata Arctica and Delain. It was a fun and exciting night, one that I will cherish as much as when I saw them in 2008 at the same venue, if not more so. Nightwish was one of the many bands that got me through a lonely life at college from 2007 to 2009. To repay them for their awesomeness, I will do another lyric journal, but with their namesake. “Song of Myself” was released on their 2011 album Imaginarium, the final CD to feature second lead singer Anette Olzon. While I don’t know if her departure was on sour terms, I do miss her a lot, but that’s not to take anything away from Floor Jansen, who’s just as awesome as her first two predecessors. But no matter who the lead singer is, she’ll have Tuomas Holopainen’s genius lyrics to guide her through every song. Let’s get busy!
The nightingale is still locked in the cage
The deep breath I took still poisons my lungs
An old oak sheltering me from the blue
Sun bathing on its dead frozen leaves
A catnap in the ghost town of my heart
She dreams of storytime and the river ghosts
Of mermaids, of Whitman's and the ride
Raving harlequins, gigantic toys
A song of me song in need
Of a courageous symphony
A verse of me verse in need
Of a pure-heart singing me to peace
All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
All that great heart lying still on an angelwing
All that great heart lying still
In silent suffering
Smiling like a clown until the show has come to an end
What is left for encore
Is the same old dead boy's song
Sung in silence
All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
All that great heart lying still on an angelwing
A midnight flight into Covington Woods
A princess and a panther by my side
These are Territories I live for
I'd still give mt everything to love you more
A silent symphony
A hollow opus #1, 2,3
Sometimes the sky is piano black
Piano black over cleansing waters
Resting pipes, verse of bore
Rusting keys without a door
Sometimes the within is piano black
Piano black over cleansing waters
All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
All that great heart lying still on an angel wing
I see a slow, simple youngster by a busy street,
with a begging bowl in his shaking hand.
Trying to smile but hurting infinitely. Nobody notices.
I do, but walk by.
An old man gets naked and kisses a model-doll in his attic
It's half-light and he's in tears.
When he finally comes his eyes are cascading.
I see a beaten dog in a pungent alley. He tries to bite me.
All pride has left his wild eyes.
I wish I had my leg to spare.
A mother visits her son, smiles to him through the bars.
She's never loved him more.
An obese girl enters an elevator with me.
All dressed up fancy, a green butterfly on her neck.
Terribly sweet perfume deafens me.
She's going to dinner alone.
That makes her even more beautiful.
I see a model's face on a brick wall.
A statue of porcelain perfection beside a violent city kill.
A city that worships flesh.
The 1st thing I ever heard was a wandering
man telling his story
It was you, the grass under my bare feet
The campfire in the dead of night
The heavenly black of sky and sea
It was us
Roaming the rainy roads, combing the gilded beaches
Waking up to a new gallery of wonders every morn
Bathing in places no-one's seen before
Shipwrecked on some matt-painted island
Clad in nothing but the surf - beauty's finest robe
Beyond all mortality we are, swinging in the breath of nature
In early air of the dawn of life
A sight to silence the heavens
I want to travel where life travels,
following its permanent lead
Where the air tastes like snow music
Where grass smells like fresh-born Eden
I would pass no man, no stranger, no tragedy or rapture
I would bathe in a world of sensation
Love, goodness and simplicity
(While violated and imprisoned by technology)
The thought of my family's graves was the only moment
I used to experience true love
That love remains infinite,
as I'll never be the man my father is
How can you "just be yourself"
when you don't know who you are?
Stop saying "I know how you feel"
How could anyone know how another feels?
Who am I to judge a priest, beggar,
whore, politician, wrongdoer?
I am, you are, all of them already
Dear child, stop working, go play
Forget every rule
There's no fear in a dream
"Is there a village inside this snowflake?"
- a child asked me
"What's the colour of our lullaby?"
I've never been so close to truth as then
I touched its silver lining
Death is the winner in any war
Nothing noble in dying for your religion
For your country
For ideology, for faith
For another man, yes
Paper is dead without words
Ink idle without a poem
All the world dead without stories
Without love and disarming beauty
Careless realism costs souls
Ever seen the Lord smile?
All the care for the world made Beautiful a sad man?
Why do we still carry a device of torture around our necks?
Oh, how rotten your pre-apocalypse is
All you bible-black fools living over nightmare ground
I see all those empty cradles and wonder
If man will never change
I, too, wish to be a decent manboy but all I am
Is smoke and mirrors
Still given everything, may I be deserving
And there forever remains the change from G to Em
***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***
Although I posted “Medicine Man” online yesterday, that wasn’t the one that will go into this week’s contest. I have different plans for the “paper hearts” prompt. It’s called “Ninja” and is named after a Skindred song, much like “Medicine Man” is named after a Pantera song. Here’s the synopsis to “Ninja”:
CHARACTERS:
DJ Rouge, African Assassin
Andrew Bradley, English Mercenary
PROMPT CONFORMITY: DJ leaves behind paper hearts as his calling card.
SYNOPSIS: Andrew is assigned by Babylon Bank to raid an African diamond mine in an attempt to bring them a priceless rock known as the Ninja’s Ruby. When he gets there, armed with an AK-47 and a belt of grenades, he begins slaying mine workers and rebel soldiers left and right with no absence of malice. The actual rock he’s looking for isn’t in the mine itself, but in the eye socket of a sword-slinging vigilante named DJ Rouge, who also came to the diamond mine, but to free the slaves instead of kill them. DJ and Andrew engage in a heated battle over the gem and the former’s quickness and stealth earns him the nickname “African Ninja” from his opponent.
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
Up next on the barbecue rack is Courtney Robyn, the psycho-bitch serial killer from “Mastodon”. Is it strange to say that this murderer is scarier to be around than a raging version of the eponymous animal in question? Shit, I’d rather get stepped on by a wild beast than get stabbed in the chest by Courtney Robyn.
***WRESTLING DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
KEVIN OWENS: What happened to the guy with the weird hair and the glasses?
MICHAEL COLE: Mauro Ranallo is ill this week.
KEVIN OWENS: Yeah, he probably got sick from listening to your commentary.
MICHAEL COLE: That’s nice.
This past Monday night, instead of watching WWE Raw, I went to the Showbox SoDo in Seattle to listen to the epic music of Nightwish along with their opening acts Sonata Arctica and Delain. It was a fun and exciting night, one that I will cherish as much as when I saw them in 2008 at the same venue, if not more so. Nightwish was one of the many bands that got me through a lonely life at college from 2007 to 2009. To repay them for their awesomeness, I will do another lyric journal, but with their namesake. “Song of Myself” was released on their 2011 album Imaginarium, the final CD to feature second lead singer Anette Olzon. While I don’t know if her departure was on sour terms, I do miss her a lot, but that’s not to take anything away from Floor Jansen, who’s just as awesome as her first two predecessors. But no matter who the lead singer is, she’ll have Tuomas Holopainen’s genius lyrics to guide her through every song. Let’s get busy!
The nightingale is still locked in the cage
The deep breath I took still poisons my lungs
An old oak sheltering me from the blue
Sun bathing on its dead frozen leaves
A catnap in the ghost town of my heart
She dreams of storytime and the river ghosts
Of mermaids, of Whitman's and the ride
Raving harlequins, gigantic toys
A song of me song in need
Of a courageous symphony
A verse of me verse in need
Of a pure-heart singing me to peace
All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
All that great heart lying still on an angelwing
All that great heart lying still
In silent suffering
Smiling like a clown until the show has come to an end
What is left for encore
Is the same old dead boy's song
Sung in silence
All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
All that great heart lying still on an angelwing
A midnight flight into Covington Woods
A princess and a panther by my side
These are Territories I live for
I'd still give mt everything to love you more
A silent symphony
A hollow opus #1, 2,3
Sometimes the sky is piano black
Piano black over cleansing waters
Resting pipes, verse of bore
Rusting keys without a door
Sometimes the within is piano black
Piano black over cleansing waters
All that great heart lying still and slowly dying
All that great heart lying still on an angel wing
I see a slow, simple youngster by a busy street,
with a begging bowl in his shaking hand.
Trying to smile but hurting infinitely. Nobody notices.
I do, but walk by.
An old man gets naked and kisses a model-doll in his attic
It's half-light and he's in tears.
When he finally comes his eyes are cascading.
I see a beaten dog in a pungent alley. He tries to bite me.
All pride has left his wild eyes.
I wish I had my leg to spare.
A mother visits her son, smiles to him through the bars.
She's never loved him more.
An obese girl enters an elevator with me.
All dressed up fancy, a green butterfly on her neck.
Terribly sweet perfume deafens me.
She's going to dinner alone.
That makes her even more beautiful.
I see a model's face on a brick wall.
A statue of porcelain perfection beside a violent city kill.
A city that worships flesh.
The 1st thing I ever heard was a wandering
man telling his story
It was you, the grass under my bare feet
The campfire in the dead of night
The heavenly black of sky and sea
It was us
Roaming the rainy roads, combing the gilded beaches
Waking up to a new gallery of wonders every morn
Bathing in places no-one's seen before
Shipwrecked on some matt-painted island
Clad in nothing but the surf - beauty's finest robe
Beyond all mortality we are, swinging in the breath of nature
In early air of the dawn of life
A sight to silence the heavens
I want to travel where life travels,
following its permanent lead
Where the air tastes like snow music
Where grass smells like fresh-born Eden
I would pass no man, no stranger, no tragedy or rapture
I would bathe in a world of sensation
Love, goodness and simplicity
(While violated and imprisoned by technology)
The thought of my family's graves was the only moment
I used to experience true love
That love remains infinite,
as I'll never be the man my father is
How can you "just be yourself"
when you don't know who you are?
Stop saying "I know how you feel"
How could anyone know how another feels?
Who am I to judge a priest, beggar,
whore, politician, wrongdoer?
I am, you are, all of them already
Dear child, stop working, go play
Forget every rule
There's no fear in a dream
"Is there a village inside this snowflake?"
- a child asked me
"What's the colour of our lullaby?"
I've never been so close to truth as then
I touched its silver lining
Death is the winner in any war
Nothing noble in dying for your religion
For your country
For ideology, for faith
For another man, yes
Paper is dead without words
Ink idle without a poem
All the world dead without stories
Without love and disarming beauty
Careless realism costs souls
Ever seen the Lord smile?
All the care for the world made Beautiful a sad man?
Why do we still carry a device of torture around our necks?
Oh, how rotten your pre-apocalypse is
All you bible-black fools living over nightmare ground
I see all those empty cradles and wonder
If man will never change
I, too, wish to be a decent manboy but all I am
Is smoke and mirrors
Still given everything, may I be deserving
And there forever remains the change from G to Em
***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***
Although I posted “Medicine Man” online yesterday, that wasn’t the one that will go into this week’s contest. I have different plans for the “paper hearts” prompt. It’s called “Ninja” and is named after a Skindred song, much like “Medicine Man” is named after a Pantera song. Here’s the synopsis to “Ninja”:
CHARACTERS:
DJ Rouge, African Assassin
Andrew Bradley, English Mercenary
PROMPT CONFORMITY: DJ leaves behind paper hearts as his calling card.
SYNOPSIS: Andrew is assigned by Babylon Bank to raid an African diamond mine in an attempt to bring them a priceless rock known as the Ninja’s Ruby. When he gets there, armed with an AK-47 and a belt of grenades, he begins slaying mine workers and rebel soldiers left and right with no absence of malice. The actual rock he’s looking for isn’t in the mine itself, but in the eye socket of a sword-slinging vigilante named DJ Rouge, who also came to the diamond mine, but to free the slaves instead of kill them. DJ and Andrew engage in a heated battle over the gem and the former’s quickness and stealth earns him the nickname “African Ninja” from his opponent.
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
Up next on the barbecue rack is Courtney Robyn, the psycho-bitch serial killer from “Mastodon”. Is it strange to say that this murderer is scarier to be around than a raging version of the eponymous animal in question? Shit, I’d rather get stepped on by a wild beast than get stabbed in the chest by Courtney Robyn.
***WRESTLING DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
KEVIN OWENS: What happened to the guy with the weird hair and the glasses?
MICHAEL COLE: Mauro Ranallo is ill this week.
KEVIN OWENS: Yeah, he probably got sick from listening to your commentary.
MICHAEL COLE: That’s nice.
March 9, 2016
Medicine Man
Maggot therapy wasn’t the prettiest form of medicine nor was it the safest. And yet, Tetra Engel knew he had to have it. It was his sister Lily’s only chance at survival. Dressed in brown rags with a demon mask over his face, Tetra took deep breaths in and out in order to calm his nerves. One wrong move could mean certain death. Then again, knowing that there was arguing going on inside the Church of Darkness could prove to be a worthy distraction for those guarding the maggot farm.
Tetra pulled out a rope with a hook at the end of it and twirled it over his head. As the whooshing noises were getting progressively louder, he threw the hook with all of his might and hit his target: the rim of the church’s roof. He was certain the maggot farm was on the top level and getting in through the roof would be his best shot at stealing the medicine.
With the hook firmly grasping its target, Tetra held the rope and walked up the wall of the church. His faith in maggot therapy was met with stomach wrenching anxiety as he saw the designs in the multi-colored windows. He saw minotaurs slashing the throats of small children with sling blades, death angels breathing fire on veiled women, and dragons spitting acid on helpless farm animals. Such violent imagery caused Tetra to puke in his mouth a little bit as he was scaling the wall.
His blood also started to chill when he heard the argument within the church intensifying. Voices were throatier and louder. Plus, the sounds of weapons clanging together and wooden furniture breaking didn’t relieve Tetra’s anxiety any further. He took a break from climbing and wiped the cold sweat off of his forehead. He also spit out some bile onto the street below and then continued climbing until he reached the tiptop of the church.
The rooftop was ordinary enough with its flat stone surface. Nothing unusual there. And then Tetra Engel saw the steeple, which depicted a baldheaded vampire chowing down on a unicorn’s neck and splattering blood every which way. “God, these people are fucking disgusting!” said Tetra silently to himself.
Before the cunning rogue could take his first step, the middle smashed open and a purple light beam shone from within the church. Flying from that magical beam was a dark-skinned woman with a red Mohawk, a black halter top, and black baggy jeans. As she rolled backwards toward Tetra, the metal spear she was carrying dropped in his lap. Tetra tossed the spear aside and crawled over to get a closer look at her.
As soon as he saw who she was, the thief cowered backwards in an anxiety-driven crabwalk until he was at the corner of the roof. Being a thief gave Tetra a certain level of street wisdom. This woman was Anya Kolobalos, the leader of the Blood Dagger Syndicate. Anybody who messed with her would end up as a little shit on the floor after she gutted them alive with her spear and drank their blood like religious Kool-Aid.
Anybody except the dark paladin who sprouted black demon wings and flew gracefully up the purple light beam and onto the rooftop. This man was Jax Nightshade, the innovator of maggot therapy and the city’s most vile businessman. His black trench coat and steel armor underneath gave him that villainous look he always wanted. The baldheaded, dark-skinned knight slowly walked over to Anya and Tetra with a bloody smile on his face.
“Well, well, well, it looks like we’re not alone after all, Anya. I didn’t know my church had a rat infestation. In fact, those are the two biggest rats I’ve ever seen in my life,” said Jax in a smooth baritone voice that sent chills up Tetra’s spine. “Which one of you shall I exterminate first? Should I just play a game of spin the bottle? How about ink-a-dink? Or maybe I’ll just take both of you at the same time. Yeah, that’ll be lovely!”
Tetra stuttered, “L-L-Listen, Mr. Nightshade. I didn’t come here for any trouble. I just want s-s-s-s-ome of your maggots. My sister Lilly has breast cancer and I was hoping th-th-th-that…”
“Shut up, you sniveling cretin!” shouted Jax in a voice that mustered up intense winds. He smiled evilly once again and said, “Of course, if you want to have access to my maggots, you’ll have to pay just like everyone else. But judging from those rags you’re wearing, it doesn’t look like you have deep pockets full of gold. Couple that with the fact that you came here through the rooftop instead of the front doors and I know exactly what’s going on. You’re a thief. You’re a liar. You’re a fucking sewer rat!”
This arguing allowed Anya enough time to pick herself and her spear off the ground before charging at Jax with rapid fire thrusts. Jax held a purple cloud of energy in his hand like a shield and blocked every single one of those shots with perfection. The dark paladin then slapped the gangster across the face and sent her rolling to the ground. He jumped on her chest and began raining down punches with green lightning around his fists. Anya covered her face with her arms before reaching up with her free leg and placing a kick to the back of Jax’s head to stop the assault.
The dark paladin rolled off of the gangster and clutched the back of his head in mock pain. He even let out some unconvincing “ouches”. Anya tried to pick herself up off the ground again, but her arms were fried and she couldn’t get a stable grip. Out of the corners of their eyes, the two of them saw Tetra trying to pick the lock to the trap door that lead into the maggot farm.
“Hey! Those are mine, bitch!” screamed Anya as she crawled agonizingly across the roof. Tetra shot up and said, “Uh-oh!” while looking for a way out. He tried to run back to the grappling hook, but was intercepted by a flying Jax Nightshade, who grabbed the thief by his neck with one hand and hoisted him in the air.
“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted off of this roof? You can fly like a birdie if you want!” said Jax with a sick smile and gritted teeth. He dragged Tetra kicking and wheezing by his neck to the edge of the roof. Still holding the thief by his throat, Jax dangled him over the edge and forced him to look at the street below.
Tetra’s vision was fading from being strangled, but when he saw how high he was off the ground, his stomach had a knot the size of a watermelon and his eyes were tearing up like rivers. He thought of his cancer-stricken sister Lilly and how he had failed her not only as a caregiver, but also as a brother. His last supply of oxygen would be spent thinking of how shitty of a way this was to die. His eyelids were getting heavy and he was ready to sleep his life away.
And then Jax let go of his grip and Tetra got a whirlwind of oxygen back into his lungs. He snapped back to reality and had enough alertness to grab the rope next to him and hold on for dear life. His hacking and wheezing caused him to slip down a few notches, but not without looking up and seeing Jax Nightshade with a metal spear through his head. The dark paladin’s purple and green magic faded out and he fell over the edge of the church, hitting the ground with a sickening thud and a bloody splatter. The spear went all the way through his head upon impact and spread his brains all over the cement ground.
Tetra heard the sounds of Anya moaning in pain. Her burned arms gave their last ounce of strength when they put the spear through Jax’s head. This was Tetra’s chance to break into the maggot farm. With the little strength he had left after being choked, the rogue pulled himself up the rope while grunting and straining along the way. He fell down a few notches, but then started walking along the wall like he did before. He made it over the lip of the roof and rolled around on the stone floor. He laid there for a while taking deep breaths in and out and smiling to himself.
And then his breathing was hindered when he felt the presence of Anya Kolobalos sitting on his stomach with her bloody and blackened fist raised high. Her other fist grabbed Tetra’s hair and she said, “I have had it with you fucking street rats! I’ve still got one more punch left in me and guess who’s going to get it!”
Tetra grabbed hold of Anya’s hair-grabbing arm and sunk his teeth into the fried meat. She squealed and rolled on the ground in pain afterwards while bleeding all over the rooftop. The thief took a few more deep breaths and rolled over to pick himself up. Anya tried to do the same, but Tetra quickly wrapped his arms around her waist, hoisted her up, and used the last of his dying strength to suplex her over the edge. The gangster hit the ground doubled over and snapped her neck while shattering her skull on the pavement.
The thief looked over the lip of the roof and smiled in satisfaction as he saw two of the biggest scumbags lying on the ground dead and bloodied. “What a couple of morons,” he said to himself while laying on the ground and catching his breath once more. Those maggots were as good as his.
The next morning, Tetra, without his demon mask, crept happily into Lilly’s bedroom and saw her lying in her bed peacefully with a smile on her face and her hands folded in front of her. Even with a bald head and a weak body, she still looked like a beautiful warrior. “Pssp! Lilly, wake up! I have something for you!”
The sickly woman slowly stirred from her sleep and looked up at her brother with hopeful eyes. “Good morning, Tetra! Did you get the medicine?”
“I sure did. I got all the medicine you’ll ever need,” said Tetra as he pulled a jar of hungry black maggots out of his coat. At first, Lilly’s face was covered in anxious fear. “Don’t worry, dear sister. This will help. I know it will. Trust me.” He opened the jar and poured the maggots all over her cancerous left breast.
The sensation of magical maggots digging into her flesh felt like a massage when it was first happening. And then it felt ticklish, which put giggles in Lilly’s throat. And then she started arching her back in agony. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t because blood was pouring out of her mouth.
Tetra grabbed his sister by the arms and shouted, “Lilly! Don’t die on me! What the hell is going on here?! Fight it! Fight!” It was too late. The maggots ate through her breast and chowed down on her lungs and heart. Her face was covered in the vomit and blood she spit out. She was dead.
Tears were forming in Tetra’s eyes as he backed away and slowly sat down against the wall. Mild tears turned to loud sobs. And loud sobs turned to shouts of “Fuck!” and “Shit!” Curse words turned to fists pounding against the ground and wall. Tetra was a thief, which meant tricking people was part of his job. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He fucked up big time and lost his sister because of it. All he wanted to do was die and meet his sister in the afterlife. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was that he bought into Jax Nightshade’s bullshit. “The Church of Darkness? What a crock!” he shouted to himself.
His suicidal thoughts were racing harder in his mind when he took a look inside the jar and saw there were still some maggots left. “What the hell?” he said. “I’ll probably taste better than piss-flavored beer.”
Tetra pulled out a rope with a hook at the end of it and twirled it over his head. As the whooshing noises were getting progressively louder, he threw the hook with all of his might and hit his target: the rim of the church’s roof. He was certain the maggot farm was on the top level and getting in through the roof would be his best shot at stealing the medicine.
With the hook firmly grasping its target, Tetra held the rope and walked up the wall of the church. His faith in maggot therapy was met with stomach wrenching anxiety as he saw the designs in the multi-colored windows. He saw minotaurs slashing the throats of small children with sling blades, death angels breathing fire on veiled women, and dragons spitting acid on helpless farm animals. Such violent imagery caused Tetra to puke in his mouth a little bit as he was scaling the wall.
His blood also started to chill when he heard the argument within the church intensifying. Voices were throatier and louder. Plus, the sounds of weapons clanging together and wooden furniture breaking didn’t relieve Tetra’s anxiety any further. He took a break from climbing and wiped the cold sweat off of his forehead. He also spit out some bile onto the street below and then continued climbing until he reached the tiptop of the church.
The rooftop was ordinary enough with its flat stone surface. Nothing unusual there. And then Tetra Engel saw the steeple, which depicted a baldheaded vampire chowing down on a unicorn’s neck and splattering blood every which way. “God, these people are fucking disgusting!” said Tetra silently to himself.
Before the cunning rogue could take his first step, the middle smashed open and a purple light beam shone from within the church. Flying from that magical beam was a dark-skinned woman with a red Mohawk, a black halter top, and black baggy jeans. As she rolled backwards toward Tetra, the metal spear she was carrying dropped in his lap. Tetra tossed the spear aside and crawled over to get a closer look at her.
As soon as he saw who she was, the thief cowered backwards in an anxiety-driven crabwalk until he was at the corner of the roof. Being a thief gave Tetra a certain level of street wisdom. This woman was Anya Kolobalos, the leader of the Blood Dagger Syndicate. Anybody who messed with her would end up as a little shit on the floor after she gutted them alive with her spear and drank their blood like religious Kool-Aid.
Anybody except the dark paladin who sprouted black demon wings and flew gracefully up the purple light beam and onto the rooftop. This man was Jax Nightshade, the innovator of maggot therapy and the city’s most vile businessman. His black trench coat and steel armor underneath gave him that villainous look he always wanted. The baldheaded, dark-skinned knight slowly walked over to Anya and Tetra with a bloody smile on his face.
“Well, well, well, it looks like we’re not alone after all, Anya. I didn’t know my church had a rat infestation. In fact, those are the two biggest rats I’ve ever seen in my life,” said Jax in a smooth baritone voice that sent chills up Tetra’s spine. “Which one of you shall I exterminate first? Should I just play a game of spin the bottle? How about ink-a-dink? Or maybe I’ll just take both of you at the same time. Yeah, that’ll be lovely!”
Tetra stuttered, “L-L-Listen, Mr. Nightshade. I didn’t come here for any trouble. I just want s-s-s-s-ome of your maggots. My sister Lilly has breast cancer and I was hoping th-th-th-that…”
“Shut up, you sniveling cretin!” shouted Jax in a voice that mustered up intense winds. He smiled evilly once again and said, “Of course, if you want to have access to my maggots, you’ll have to pay just like everyone else. But judging from those rags you’re wearing, it doesn’t look like you have deep pockets full of gold. Couple that with the fact that you came here through the rooftop instead of the front doors and I know exactly what’s going on. You’re a thief. You’re a liar. You’re a fucking sewer rat!”
This arguing allowed Anya enough time to pick herself and her spear off the ground before charging at Jax with rapid fire thrusts. Jax held a purple cloud of energy in his hand like a shield and blocked every single one of those shots with perfection. The dark paladin then slapped the gangster across the face and sent her rolling to the ground. He jumped on her chest and began raining down punches with green lightning around his fists. Anya covered her face with her arms before reaching up with her free leg and placing a kick to the back of Jax’s head to stop the assault.
The dark paladin rolled off of the gangster and clutched the back of his head in mock pain. He even let out some unconvincing “ouches”. Anya tried to pick herself up off the ground again, but her arms were fried and she couldn’t get a stable grip. Out of the corners of their eyes, the two of them saw Tetra trying to pick the lock to the trap door that lead into the maggot farm.
“Hey! Those are mine, bitch!” screamed Anya as she crawled agonizingly across the roof. Tetra shot up and said, “Uh-oh!” while looking for a way out. He tried to run back to the grappling hook, but was intercepted by a flying Jax Nightshade, who grabbed the thief by his neck with one hand and hoisted him in the air.
“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted off of this roof? You can fly like a birdie if you want!” said Jax with a sick smile and gritted teeth. He dragged Tetra kicking and wheezing by his neck to the edge of the roof. Still holding the thief by his throat, Jax dangled him over the edge and forced him to look at the street below.
Tetra’s vision was fading from being strangled, but when he saw how high he was off the ground, his stomach had a knot the size of a watermelon and his eyes were tearing up like rivers. He thought of his cancer-stricken sister Lilly and how he had failed her not only as a caregiver, but also as a brother. His last supply of oxygen would be spent thinking of how shitty of a way this was to die. His eyelids were getting heavy and he was ready to sleep his life away.
And then Jax let go of his grip and Tetra got a whirlwind of oxygen back into his lungs. He snapped back to reality and had enough alertness to grab the rope next to him and hold on for dear life. His hacking and wheezing caused him to slip down a few notches, but not without looking up and seeing Jax Nightshade with a metal spear through his head. The dark paladin’s purple and green magic faded out and he fell over the edge of the church, hitting the ground with a sickening thud and a bloody splatter. The spear went all the way through his head upon impact and spread his brains all over the cement ground.
Tetra heard the sounds of Anya moaning in pain. Her burned arms gave their last ounce of strength when they put the spear through Jax’s head. This was Tetra’s chance to break into the maggot farm. With the little strength he had left after being choked, the rogue pulled himself up the rope while grunting and straining along the way. He fell down a few notches, but then started walking along the wall like he did before. He made it over the lip of the roof and rolled around on the stone floor. He laid there for a while taking deep breaths in and out and smiling to himself.
And then his breathing was hindered when he felt the presence of Anya Kolobalos sitting on his stomach with her bloody and blackened fist raised high. Her other fist grabbed Tetra’s hair and she said, “I have had it with you fucking street rats! I’ve still got one more punch left in me and guess who’s going to get it!”
Tetra grabbed hold of Anya’s hair-grabbing arm and sunk his teeth into the fried meat. She squealed and rolled on the ground in pain afterwards while bleeding all over the rooftop. The thief took a few more deep breaths and rolled over to pick himself up. Anya tried to do the same, but Tetra quickly wrapped his arms around her waist, hoisted her up, and used the last of his dying strength to suplex her over the edge. The gangster hit the ground doubled over and snapped her neck while shattering her skull on the pavement.
The thief looked over the lip of the roof and smiled in satisfaction as he saw two of the biggest scumbags lying on the ground dead and bloodied. “What a couple of morons,” he said to himself while laying on the ground and catching his breath once more. Those maggots were as good as his.
The next morning, Tetra, without his demon mask, crept happily into Lilly’s bedroom and saw her lying in her bed peacefully with a smile on her face and her hands folded in front of her. Even with a bald head and a weak body, she still looked like a beautiful warrior. “Pssp! Lilly, wake up! I have something for you!”
The sickly woman slowly stirred from her sleep and looked up at her brother with hopeful eyes. “Good morning, Tetra! Did you get the medicine?”
“I sure did. I got all the medicine you’ll ever need,” said Tetra as he pulled a jar of hungry black maggots out of his coat. At first, Lilly’s face was covered in anxious fear. “Don’t worry, dear sister. This will help. I know it will. Trust me.” He opened the jar and poured the maggots all over her cancerous left breast.
The sensation of magical maggots digging into her flesh felt like a massage when it was first happening. And then it felt ticklish, which put giggles in Lilly’s throat. And then she started arching her back in agony. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t because blood was pouring out of her mouth.
Tetra grabbed his sister by the arms and shouted, “Lilly! Don’t die on me! What the hell is going on here?! Fight it! Fight!” It was too late. The maggots ate through her breast and chowed down on her lungs and heart. Her face was covered in the vomit and blood she spit out. She was dead.
Tears were forming in Tetra’s eyes as he backed away and slowly sat down against the wall. Mild tears turned to loud sobs. And loud sobs turned to shouts of “Fuck!” and “Shit!” Curse words turned to fists pounding against the ground and wall. Tetra was a thief, which meant tricking people was part of his job. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He fucked up big time and lost his sister because of it. All he wanted to do was die and meet his sister in the afterlife. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was that he bought into Jax Nightshade’s bullshit. “The Church of Darkness? What a crock!” he shouted to himself.
His suicidal thoughts were racing harder in his mind when he took a look inside the jar and saw there were still some maggots left. “What the hell?” he said. “I’ll probably taste better than piss-flavored beer.”
March 5, 2016
Fan Boy Noob Stalker
CHORUS
Fan boy noob stalker! X4
VERSE 1
I never meant to hurt you the way I did
I was nothing more than a foolish kid
You deserve better than to be creeped out
I don’t blame you for wanting to shout
Flirting isn’t one of my strongest features
Touching is like acid to my delicate fingers
Shyness is protection for both me and you
Look to the future with a picturesque view
CHORUS
Fan boy noob stalker! X4
VERSE 2
For two long years of higher education
I stayed in the shadows of desperation
Just one comment on a woman’s beauty
Could make someone want to sue me
Even when it came to platonic friends
I knew my social life was near its end
I carried my shame even further than that
I sit at home stewing like a caged up rat
CHORUS
Fan boy noob stalker! X4
VERSE 3
The world is a safer place without my zeal
My single status continues to remain real
I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a lonely life
You were all too willing to tell me goodbye
Are you happy now? You got what you wanted
My romantic dreams are nightmarishly haunted
I gave up on romance like I told you before
I gave you security, but it left me feeling sore
HOOK
You don’t owe me anything
But I still have the right to sing
A hard rock song about isolation
In a world known for intimidation
Fan boy noob stalker! X4
VERSE 1
I never meant to hurt you the way I did
I was nothing more than a foolish kid
You deserve better than to be creeped out
I don’t blame you for wanting to shout
Flirting isn’t one of my strongest features
Touching is like acid to my delicate fingers
Shyness is protection for both me and you
Look to the future with a picturesque view
CHORUS
Fan boy noob stalker! X4
VERSE 2
For two long years of higher education
I stayed in the shadows of desperation
Just one comment on a woman’s beauty
Could make someone want to sue me
Even when it came to platonic friends
I knew my social life was near its end
I carried my shame even further than that
I sit at home stewing like a caged up rat
CHORUS
Fan boy noob stalker! X4
VERSE 3
The world is a safer place without my zeal
My single status continues to remain real
I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a lonely life
You were all too willing to tell me goodbye
Are you happy now? You got what you wanted
My romantic dreams are nightmarishly haunted
I gave up on romance like I told you before
I gave you security, but it left me feeling sore
HOOK
You don’t owe me anything
But I still have the right to sing
A hard rock song about isolation
In a world known for intimidation
March 4, 2016
Nightwish
***NIGHTWISH***
This coming Monday (March 7th), I’m taking a trip over to Seattle to watch Nightwish play at the Showbox SoDo. The last time I saw them was in 2008 at the same venue, but with Anette Olzon as the lead singer. This time around eight years later, Floor Jansen will be their singer. Anybody who’s known me long enough knows how special a Nightwish concert is to me. Not to devalue every other band I’ve seen over the years, but this is Nightwish. This is the same band that filled the void for me when I was in college and lonely as hell. I even wrote a short story based on Nightwish fandom called “Wishes in the Night” (clever title) and it’s near the end of American Darkness. People seemed to think that Danielle Keyes (the main character of that story) came off as a creepy cultist, but that’s not a bad thing, because I laughed my ass off. I’m still smiling about that critique today.
Just like with every concert or vacation, the days that I’m gone will mean limited internet activity. But also just like with every concert or vacation, I’ll always return to see your guys’ smiling faces. You all will get hugs, kisses, hair fuzzles, shoulder rubs, whatever puts you at ease and sends the message that I’m here to stay. I’m obviously not going to take pictures of the Nightwish concert, because I don’t want my camera to get broken in the mosh pit (if there is one). Plus, I don’t own a smart phone, so I can’t take pictures that way either. But for all you Face Bookers out there, this concert will be added to my “life events” along with my other concerts and vacations…for whatever it’s worth.
Here’s to good times and badass rock and roll! We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
Even though Marco Torres (my last subject) was a villain, I’ve recently acquired some new villains with the addition of the monthly contest at the WSS, so I’ve got a little bit of a surplus. The next villain I draw will be the lead villain of “Scarecrow Justice”, Edward Bell, the paramilitary hit man. For his design, I was thinking of doing a crossover between a SWAT team member and The Ultimate Warrior. I may even include the face paint. Although, plans can change at the drop of a hat, so you never know.
***POLITICAL QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“Saying atheism is a religion is like saying abstinence is a sex position.”
-Bill Maher-
This coming Monday (March 7th), I’m taking a trip over to Seattle to watch Nightwish play at the Showbox SoDo. The last time I saw them was in 2008 at the same venue, but with Anette Olzon as the lead singer. This time around eight years later, Floor Jansen will be their singer. Anybody who’s known me long enough knows how special a Nightwish concert is to me. Not to devalue every other band I’ve seen over the years, but this is Nightwish. This is the same band that filled the void for me when I was in college and lonely as hell. I even wrote a short story based on Nightwish fandom called “Wishes in the Night” (clever title) and it’s near the end of American Darkness. People seemed to think that Danielle Keyes (the main character of that story) came off as a creepy cultist, but that’s not a bad thing, because I laughed my ass off. I’m still smiling about that critique today.
Just like with every concert or vacation, the days that I’m gone will mean limited internet activity. But also just like with every concert or vacation, I’ll always return to see your guys’ smiling faces. You all will get hugs, kisses, hair fuzzles, shoulder rubs, whatever puts you at ease and sends the message that I’m here to stay. I’m obviously not going to take pictures of the Nightwish concert, because I don’t want my camera to get broken in the mosh pit (if there is one). Plus, I don’t own a smart phone, so I can’t take pictures that way either. But for all you Face Bookers out there, this concert will be added to my “life events” along with my other concerts and vacations…for whatever it’s worth.
Here’s to good times and badass rock and roll! We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
Even though Marco Torres (my last subject) was a villain, I’ve recently acquired some new villains with the addition of the monthly contest at the WSS, so I’ve got a little bit of a surplus. The next villain I draw will be the lead villain of “Scarecrow Justice”, Edward Bell, the paramilitary hit man. For his design, I was thinking of doing a crossover between a SWAT team member and The Ultimate Warrior. I may even include the face paint. Although, plans can change at the drop of a hat, so you never know.
***POLITICAL QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“Saying atheism is a religion is like saying abstinence is a sex position.”
-Bill Maher-
March 2, 2016
Chaos
The forest road seemed to be dragging on forever, like traveling on an endless conveyor belt. With the trees on the side of the road flexing back and forth in this windy weather, this seemed like the wrong night to take such a route. Officers Kenny Ryder and Robin Cage seemed to agree on that point, but they weren’t going to complain…publicly. They had a much bigger concern on their minds than potentially falling trees. In the back of their paddy wagon was Derrick O’Brien, the nation’s most dangerous domestic terrorist.
Derrick didn’t prefer bombs. He didn’t need guns. All he needed to get his message across were the blades on the tips of his powerful fingers, the flesh and bone-chewing fangs in his mouth, and the vocal cords of a bloodthirsty monster. The brown fur all over his body reeked of death and decay, like somebody who hadn’t showered in months while slashing victims to chunky pieces. The man wolf slept peacefully in his steel chain cocoon, but not without snoring like an AK-47 every time he breathed in.
Kenny and Robin kept looking over their shoulders and out at the road in short bursts before the chocolate haired Officer Cage broke the ice. “You know, I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit in my career, but a fucking werewolf? If I don’t see a big fat paycheck at the end of this assignment, I might turn into a werewolf and go ape shit myself.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” said the baldheaded male with the scraggly beard Officer Ryder. “You should have seen all the manpower it took just to chain that bastard up. And now they’re sending you and me to transport his big ass to some goddamn lab.”
“Lab? You mean they’re going to put makeup on him and squirt shampoo in his eyes?” asked Robin jokingly as she drummed her fingers on the dashboard.
“Hey, if I ever find out they’re testing Head and Shoulders on that big furry thing, I’ll gladly do commercials for those guys.”
“You don’t even have hair, Kenny.”
“So?”
The brief moment of comedy put weak smiles on Kenny and Robin’s faces. They hadn’t lost sight of how risky this assignment really was. One steel link snaps and Robin could lose her head. One pad lock breaks and Kenny could have his intestines spread all over the windshield. As quickly as the windstorm blew that night, the humorous mood faded.
“Oh, what the hell is this shit?” asked Kenny when he stepped on the brakes and slowly brought the paddy wagon to a halt. The halogen headlights did so little to make out the hooded and robed figure in the middle of the road. It was just standing there frozen in place when Kenny blasted the horn three times. He rolled down the window on his side and stuck his head out before shouting, “Hey! Move your ass! We’ve got a prisoner in tow and you’re holding us up!”
No response from the hooded figure, which prompted an even longer horn blast from Kenny followed by another shout. “Hey! I said move your ass off the road! Are you deaf or something?!”
“You want me to take care of this asshole?” asked Robin with her taser armed. Her partner gave a nod before she got out of the paddy wagon and slowly approached the hooded figure with her taser locked and loaded. “Sir? Ma’am? Whatever the hell you are, I suggest you get out of the road before I…”
“Before you what?” asked the feminine voice from behind the hood. She raised her bladed finger and continued her question with, “Shoot me with that little toy? Go ahead. See what happens, cupcake!”
Robin fired the electrical prongs, but not without the woman grabbing them and smiling at her with creepily seductive red lips. Officer Cage shivered and watched with wide eyes as the woman removed her hood and revealed herself to be a purple-haired vampire complete with bloody fangs. Before Officer Cage could let out a whispery swear word, the vampire rushed up to her and forearmed her in the cheek, knocking her to the ground and exposing her neck.
The vampire licked her lusty lips with anticipation as she knelt down to take a juicy bite. And then she heard, “Hey! Don’t even think about it, you circus freak!” Kenny stood at the opposite side of the paddy wagon with his shotgun pointed right at her. He even pumped it for intimidation, but instead got a voracious growl from the mysterious woman.
Officer Ryder squeezed off a shot, but hit nothing as the woman quickly ducked down and rushed toward the back of the vehicle. The shotgun wielder darted over to the fallen Robin Cage and put two fingers on her neck for a pulse. She had one, but it was fading. The entire right side of her face was swollen and purple.
Kenny watched his partner fade to black in front of him and said in a comforting voice, “Please, don’t die on me. I’ll find that bitch and put one in her chest for you.”
Robin painfully lifted her head off the ground and spoke in a raspy voice, “Kenny…forget about me…what about the prisoner?!”
The sounds of wet lips smacking together romantically could be heard from the back of the paddy wagon. “Oh no, no, not this!” shouted Kenny when he saw the back door swinging wide open. He patted Robin’s chocolate brown hair and said, “Don’t worry. I’m not leaving your side. Those two are probably long gone by now. They’re someone else’s problem.”
“Such dedication to your craft, Officer,” said the lusty vampire, who stepped out from behind the opened door with her arm wrapped around a thin blond haired stud muffin in an orange jumpsuit, quite the contrast from the beast previously in lockup. She smiled at the man and said, “Derrick O’Brien, scourge of the werewolf clan.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the ultra-sexy vampire queen, Sonya Demonic,” said Derrick, who was engaged in an intense lip lock with his blood sucking girlfriend, complete with ass grabbing and breast squeezing. Sonya took off her robes to reveal a stunning silk black dress underneath. “Excellent choice, my sweets!” They kissed some more.
“You two scumbags make me sick!” shouted Kenny as he pumped the handle on his shotgun and squeezed off another round into the couple’s vicinity. The blast hit Derrick in the chest, but the human-staged werewolf no-sold his pain with sarcastic clutches at his “wound”. Sonya Demonic held her mouth in mock horror and let out a few orgasmic screams.
The couple laughed off the “pain” together and hugged it out. Derrick wagged his finger at the shock-eyed Kenny and said, “Now, now, Officer. Didn’t I hear you say yourself that it took a lot of manpower to chain me up? What do you think happened to that manpower?” Derrick broke his embrace from Sonya and patted his tummy with both hands before snickering evilly.
“You sick bastard! You sick, sick bastard!” shouted Kenny.
“Sick? Sick? Who’s the sick one, Officer?” asked Sonya. “My beautiful werewolf boyfriend here, or the one person who keeps feeding able-bodied cops to the two of us for dinner? Did you two really think this was a transport mission to some god-awful laboratory? Come on, now. There’s nothing out here except for trees and windstorms. Go ahead. Call for help. I dare you!”
Kenny’s breathing was getting heavier and angrier with each passing second. He leaned down and picked up the wounded Robin baby style before sitting her in the passenger seat. She was still breathing, but shallowly. She sat upright, but with her neck at a forty-five degree angle. She let out a small cough to let Kenny know she was still alive.
Meanwhile, the shotgun-wielding cop was in the driver’s seat trying to work the radio buttons. He spoke into the microphone, “I need backup! Officer down! Repeat! Officer Robin Cage is down! I need extra units and an ambulance for her!”
There was a heavy crackling at the other end of the radio before an ominous voice said, “I’m sorry, Officer Ryder, but Miss Demonic and Mr. O’Brien are going to be full with just you two as their meal. It was the only way I could keep the creatures of the night from taking over this city. I’m sorry, Kenny. The sacrifice has to be made.”
Officer Ryder’s heavy breathing turned to silent weeping. The silence was broken when he pounded on the steering wheel and blew the horn while swearing his head off. The fit of rage ended when Sonya and Derrick were on opposite sides of the vehicle’s cab banging on the glass windows. The creatures smiled at them with bloodshot eyes, blood filled mouths, and plenty of hoarse laughs. Derrick had transformed back into his werewolf stage and was chewing on the door handle for special effects.
Kenny slammed his own head against the steering wheel until his forehead bled buckets. His vision was getting hazy and his body was relaxing. He didn’t even feel the storm of broken glass that nearly slashed his face up even more. His last vision before passing out from the pain of Sonya’s vampire bite was Robin Cage being dragged out of the vehicle with Derrick’s wolf teeth gnashing her skull.
The entire “dining experience” took little more than fifteen minutes of chewing, sucking, and chugging. Meaty morsels sliding down the creature’s throats while the bones were being cast aside. Blood oozing from their mouths like a waterfall of violence. They were full from their meals, but still had room for dessert, which they would eat in the privacy of the paddy wagon’s prisoner hold. Red velvet kisses with a few small drops of Pina Colata. Such a lovely meal for a lovely couple, who held hands afterwards and watched the night sky together. They had to do date night again sometime.
Derrick didn’t prefer bombs. He didn’t need guns. All he needed to get his message across were the blades on the tips of his powerful fingers, the flesh and bone-chewing fangs in his mouth, and the vocal cords of a bloodthirsty monster. The brown fur all over his body reeked of death and decay, like somebody who hadn’t showered in months while slashing victims to chunky pieces. The man wolf slept peacefully in his steel chain cocoon, but not without snoring like an AK-47 every time he breathed in.
Kenny and Robin kept looking over their shoulders and out at the road in short bursts before the chocolate haired Officer Cage broke the ice. “You know, I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit in my career, but a fucking werewolf? If I don’t see a big fat paycheck at the end of this assignment, I might turn into a werewolf and go ape shit myself.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” said the baldheaded male with the scraggly beard Officer Ryder. “You should have seen all the manpower it took just to chain that bastard up. And now they’re sending you and me to transport his big ass to some goddamn lab.”
“Lab? You mean they’re going to put makeup on him and squirt shampoo in his eyes?” asked Robin jokingly as she drummed her fingers on the dashboard.
“Hey, if I ever find out they’re testing Head and Shoulders on that big furry thing, I’ll gladly do commercials for those guys.”
“You don’t even have hair, Kenny.”
“So?”
The brief moment of comedy put weak smiles on Kenny and Robin’s faces. They hadn’t lost sight of how risky this assignment really was. One steel link snaps and Robin could lose her head. One pad lock breaks and Kenny could have his intestines spread all over the windshield. As quickly as the windstorm blew that night, the humorous mood faded.
“Oh, what the hell is this shit?” asked Kenny when he stepped on the brakes and slowly brought the paddy wagon to a halt. The halogen headlights did so little to make out the hooded and robed figure in the middle of the road. It was just standing there frozen in place when Kenny blasted the horn three times. He rolled down the window on his side and stuck his head out before shouting, “Hey! Move your ass! We’ve got a prisoner in tow and you’re holding us up!”
No response from the hooded figure, which prompted an even longer horn blast from Kenny followed by another shout. “Hey! I said move your ass off the road! Are you deaf or something?!”
“You want me to take care of this asshole?” asked Robin with her taser armed. Her partner gave a nod before she got out of the paddy wagon and slowly approached the hooded figure with her taser locked and loaded. “Sir? Ma’am? Whatever the hell you are, I suggest you get out of the road before I…”
“Before you what?” asked the feminine voice from behind the hood. She raised her bladed finger and continued her question with, “Shoot me with that little toy? Go ahead. See what happens, cupcake!”
Robin fired the electrical prongs, but not without the woman grabbing them and smiling at her with creepily seductive red lips. Officer Cage shivered and watched with wide eyes as the woman removed her hood and revealed herself to be a purple-haired vampire complete with bloody fangs. Before Officer Cage could let out a whispery swear word, the vampire rushed up to her and forearmed her in the cheek, knocking her to the ground and exposing her neck.
The vampire licked her lusty lips with anticipation as she knelt down to take a juicy bite. And then she heard, “Hey! Don’t even think about it, you circus freak!” Kenny stood at the opposite side of the paddy wagon with his shotgun pointed right at her. He even pumped it for intimidation, but instead got a voracious growl from the mysterious woman.
Officer Ryder squeezed off a shot, but hit nothing as the woman quickly ducked down and rushed toward the back of the vehicle. The shotgun wielder darted over to the fallen Robin Cage and put two fingers on her neck for a pulse. She had one, but it was fading. The entire right side of her face was swollen and purple.
Kenny watched his partner fade to black in front of him and said in a comforting voice, “Please, don’t die on me. I’ll find that bitch and put one in her chest for you.”
Robin painfully lifted her head off the ground and spoke in a raspy voice, “Kenny…forget about me…what about the prisoner?!”
The sounds of wet lips smacking together romantically could be heard from the back of the paddy wagon. “Oh no, no, not this!” shouted Kenny when he saw the back door swinging wide open. He patted Robin’s chocolate brown hair and said, “Don’t worry. I’m not leaving your side. Those two are probably long gone by now. They’re someone else’s problem.”
“Such dedication to your craft, Officer,” said the lusty vampire, who stepped out from behind the opened door with her arm wrapped around a thin blond haired stud muffin in an orange jumpsuit, quite the contrast from the beast previously in lockup. She smiled at the man and said, “Derrick O’Brien, scourge of the werewolf clan.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the ultra-sexy vampire queen, Sonya Demonic,” said Derrick, who was engaged in an intense lip lock with his blood sucking girlfriend, complete with ass grabbing and breast squeezing. Sonya took off her robes to reveal a stunning silk black dress underneath. “Excellent choice, my sweets!” They kissed some more.
“You two scumbags make me sick!” shouted Kenny as he pumped the handle on his shotgun and squeezed off another round into the couple’s vicinity. The blast hit Derrick in the chest, but the human-staged werewolf no-sold his pain with sarcastic clutches at his “wound”. Sonya Demonic held her mouth in mock horror and let out a few orgasmic screams.
The couple laughed off the “pain” together and hugged it out. Derrick wagged his finger at the shock-eyed Kenny and said, “Now, now, Officer. Didn’t I hear you say yourself that it took a lot of manpower to chain me up? What do you think happened to that manpower?” Derrick broke his embrace from Sonya and patted his tummy with both hands before snickering evilly.
“You sick bastard! You sick, sick bastard!” shouted Kenny.
“Sick? Sick? Who’s the sick one, Officer?” asked Sonya. “My beautiful werewolf boyfriend here, or the one person who keeps feeding able-bodied cops to the two of us for dinner? Did you two really think this was a transport mission to some god-awful laboratory? Come on, now. There’s nothing out here except for trees and windstorms. Go ahead. Call for help. I dare you!”
Kenny’s breathing was getting heavier and angrier with each passing second. He leaned down and picked up the wounded Robin baby style before sitting her in the passenger seat. She was still breathing, but shallowly. She sat upright, but with her neck at a forty-five degree angle. She let out a small cough to let Kenny know she was still alive.
Meanwhile, the shotgun-wielding cop was in the driver’s seat trying to work the radio buttons. He spoke into the microphone, “I need backup! Officer down! Repeat! Officer Robin Cage is down! I need extra units and an ambulance for her!”
There was a heavy crackling at the other end of the radio before an ominous voice said, “I’m sorry, Officer Ryder, but Miss Demonic and Mr. O’Brien are going to be full with just you two as their meal. It was the only way I could keep the creatures of the night from taking over this city. I’m sorry, Kenny. The sacrifice has to be made.”
Officer Ryder’s heavy breathing turned to silent weeping. The silence was broken when he pounded on the steering wheel and blew the horn while swearing his head off. The fit of rage ended when Sonya and Derrick were on opposite sides of the vehicle’s cab banging on the glass windows. The creatures smiled at them with bloodshot eyes, blood filled mouths, and plenty of hoarse laughs. Derrick had transformed back into his werewolf stage and was chewing on the door handle for special effects.
Kenny slammed his own head against the steering wheel until his forehead bled buckets. His vision was getting hazy and his body was relaxing. He didn’t even feel the storm of broken glass that nearly slashed his face up even more. His last vision before passing out from the pain of Sonya’s vampire bite was Robin Cage being dragged out of the vehicle with Derrick’s wolf teeth gnashing her skull.
The entire “dining experience” took little more than fifteen minutes of chewing, sucking, and chugging. Meaty morsels sliding down the creature’s throats while the bones were being cast aside. Blood oozing from their mouths like a waterfall of violence. They were full from their meals, but still had room for dessert, which they would eat in the privacy of the paddy wagon’s prisoner hold. Red velvet kisses with a few small drops of Pina Colata. Such a lovely meal for a lovely couple, who held hands afterwards and watched the night sky together. They had to do date night again sometime.
February 27, 2016
Self-Esteem
***SELF-ESTEEM***
When I watched George Carlin perform standup comedy for the last time in 2008, he ripped into people who believed The Self-Esteem Movement. He argued that making all children feel special only makes them complacent and incompetent as students and workers. Because Carlin was a huge influence on me back then and still is today, I took his word as gospel and never questioned it. And then I saw another comedy routine he did back in the 1990’s where he slammed the environmental movement and liberals in general. Naturally, there’s a disagreement between us.
So as long as I’m learning to question what everyone says, what can be said about The Self-Esteem Movement? Yes, it’s important to have children who will grow up to be winners in life. I get that. Hard work, passion, and dedication are the keys to success. But what happens when they have a setback? Do they deserve to feel poorly about themselves afterwards? Such negative thoughts can take you to a dark place in life. Drugs, alcohol, sadness, suicide, self-harm, so many negative ways to cope with a heavy loss.
I’m currently reading Ronda Rousey’s “My Fight / Your Fight” memoir and there’s a lot to be said about her inner strength. Her judoka mother was always hard on her when she suffered a loss in a judo competition. Her mother also made Ronda compete through pain and injuries as if they’re completely ignorable. The proof is in the pudding: Ronda Rousey was undefeated for twelve MMA fights, she’s a former Women’s Bantamweight Champion, she’s wanted for movie roles, and she’s making a shit load of money.
But then there are the times in life when Ronda lost. Her most recent defeat was at the hands of Holly Holm, who kicked her in the head to earn a KO victory and the UFC Women’s Bantamweight Championship. Because she was conditioned to feel poorly after a loss, Ronda had suicidal thoughts as revealed in an interview with Ellen DeGeneres. I’m glad she never acted on those harmful thoughts, but what if she had? What if she didn’t have her UFC boyfriend Travis Browne to be her rock? What if her mother didn’t occasionally come to her rescue? Then what?
Is it possible to have a balance between the two extremes? Can children be told they’re special and be successful people at the same time? Consider this quote: “It’s easier to build up a child than to repair an adult.” Suffering losses and feeling bad about doesn’t “build character”. Remember that scene in Full Metal Jacket where Private Pyle shoots his sadistic drill instructor and then himself? That’s one instance where tough love goes wrong and it’s probably not an isolated incident.
Thinking highly of yourself has to account for something. If you don’t believe in your own abilities, what makes you think anybody else will? You can experience failure and still have the wherewithal to change your strategy and turn your life around.
The WSS group at Good Reads recently launched an e-magazine where the stories and poems of the contest winners would be featured. I have to admit, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to succeed, I initially felt sorry for myself because I hadn’t won a contest since 2014 when I entered “Luna the Moon Kitty”. I didn’t think this launch celebration had anything to do with me. And then I remembered that the WSS is still all about friendly competition and helping each other succeed. If my story didn’t get exposure on the e-magazine, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. There are other ways to get exposure and the WSS will still hold true to their principles of being a friendly community. God, I love those guys!
If you want to feel good about yourselves, you have my permission. I won’t give you grief for receiving a “participation trophy” after playing a game of little league baseball. The fact that you even want to play baseball and have the athleticism to do so should say a lot about you. I’m over 300 lbs., so there’s no way I’m becoming an athlete of any kind in the near future, which means no participation trophy. Sports are hard to play and hard to be good at, which is why I stay away from them and stick to what I’m good at: writing, drawing, and photography. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***
As part of the WSS’s newly launched e-magazine, they’re holding a monthly contest in addition to the weekly ones, so I figured, why not write another story? This one will be called “Medicine Man” and it goes like this:
CHARACTERS:
Tetra Engel, Thief
Jax Nightshade, Dark Paladin
Anya Kolobalos, Gangster
PROMPT CONFORMITY: Tetra wants to give his cancer-stricken sister a fresh start in life by healing her.
SYNOPSIS: Jax is the innovator of “maggot therapy” and charges excessively high prices to cure his patients. When Tetra’s sister develops breast cancer, instead of forking over his life savings, he goes out and attempts to steal the maggots from Jax. In addition to the so-called “Medicine Man”, Tetra also has to be weary of Anya, a spear-wielding gangster who wants to steal the maggots to make recreational drugs to sell at an even higher price. It’s a three-way battle on the rooftop of Jax’s satanic church. Who will survive?
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
The next drawing I will turn out is of Caitlin Sparks, the rebellious swordswoman from “Sage Against the Machine”, which I wrote independently of the WSS contests. I’m trying to think of a cool costume for her, but nothing’s coming to mind just yet. Eh, I’ll figure it out eventually.
***POISON TONGUE TALES***
I’ve been busy editing the shit out of short stories and so far, so good. If I have my way, there will be one day where I edit six at a time just like I did today. The next to be bulldozed will be…
Guns, Drugs, and Misogyny
The Happy Slasher
Harvest Moon
Hell Yeah
I, Barbarian
If I Offer You My Soul (the one that coincidentally features a character named Ashley Marie)
***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
DANTE: Here’s what I don’t understand about you: you have a driver’s license, you can operate a grownup vehicle, but after you drive a go-kart, you somehow feel better about yourself.
RANDAL: Look, it just centers me, okay? Kind of like the way jerking off in the men’s bathroom at work centers you.
DANTE: Hey, that was one time and it wasn’t to center me.
RANDAL: You’re right. It was to cum.
DANTE: So why did we have to drive all the way out here just so you can ride the go-karts?
RANDAL: Look, I don’t want to jerk off in the bathroom at work. What if I’m going and a customer comes in all sex nuts and retard strong? Next thing you know, I’m fighting him off while he tries to jam my dick in his mouth.
DANTE: The likeliest of scenarios.
RANDAL: Yeah, well, I don’t know about you, but cumming centers me.
DANTE: Man, that shit Lance said must have really bothered you.
RANDAL: Oh, fuck him. He’s an asshole. He always was. I’m sorry I let him bother me for even a minute. At least I got a go-kart trip out of it.
DANTE: Why do the go-karts help?
RANDAL: They just remind me of a better time in my life.
DANTE: Like when?
RANDAL: When we were young and the world was right there in front of us.
DANTE: You’re not that old.
RANDAL: I know, but sometimes I think the world left us behind a long time ago.
DANTE: You can do something about that.
RANDAL: I told you, I’m not jerking off in the men’s bathroom at Mooby’s.
DANTE: No, not that. Have you ever thought about leaving Mooby’s and changing your situation in life?
RANDAL: What’s the point? Besides, why do you give a shit? You’re leaving.
-Clerks II-
When I watched George Carlin perform standup comedy for the last time in 2008, he ripped into people who believed The Self-Esteem Movement. He argued that making all children feel special only makes them complacent and incompetent as students and workers. Because Carlin was a huge influence on me back then and still is today, I took his word as gospel and never questioned it. And then I saw another comedy routine he did back in the 1990’s where he slammed the environmental movement and liberals in general. Naturally, there’s a disagreement between us.
So as long as I’m learning to question what everyone says, what can be said about The Self-Esteem Movement? Yes, it’s important to have children who will grow up to be winners in life. I get that. Hard work, passion, and dedication are the keys to success. But what happens when they have a setback? Do they deserve to feel poorly about themselves afterwards? Such negative thoughts can take you to a dark place in life. Drugs, alcohol, sadness, suicide, self-harm, so many negative ways to cope with a heavy loss.
I’m currently reading Ronda Rousey’s “My Fight / Your Fight” memoir and there’s a lot to be said about her inner strength. Her judoka mother was always hard on her when she suffered a loss in a judo competition. Her mother also made Ronda compete through pain and injuries as if they’re completely ignorable. The proof is in the pudding: Ronda Rousey was undefeated for twelve MMA fights, she’s a former Women’s Bantamweight Champion, she’s wanted for movie roles, and she’s making a shit load of money.
But then there are the times in life when Ronda lost. Her most recent defeat was at the hands of Holly Holm, who kicked her in the head to earn a KO victory and the UFC Women’s Bantamweight Championship. Because she was conditioned to feel poorly after a loss, Ronda had suicidal thoughts as revealed in an interview with Ellen DeGeneres. I’m glad she never acted on those harmful thoughts, but what if she had? What if she didn’t have her UFC boyfriend Travis Browne to be her rock? What if her mother didn’t occasionally come to her rescue? Then what?
Is it possible to have a balance between the two extremes? Can children be told they’re special and be successful people at the same time? Consider this quote: “It’s easier to build up a child than to repair an adult.” Suffering losses and feeling bad about doesn’t “build character”. Remember that scene in Full Metal Jacket where Private Pyle shoots his sadistic drill instructor and then himself? That’s one instance where tough love goes wrong and it’s probably not an isolated incident.
Thinking highly of yourself has to account for something. If you don’t believe in your own abilities, what makes you think anybody else will? You can experience failure and still have the wherewithal to change your strategy and turn your life around.
The WSS group at Good Reads recently launched an e-magazine where the stories and poems of the contest winners would be featured. I have to admit, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to succeed, I initially felt sorry for myself because I hadn’t won a contest since 2014 when I entered “Luna the Moon Kitty”. I didn’t think this launch celebration had anything to do with me. And then I remembered that the WSS is still all about friendly competition and helping each other succeed. If my story didn’t get exposure on the e-magazine, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. There are other ways to get exposure and the WSS will still hold true to their principles of being a friendly community. God, I love those guys!
If you want to feel good about yourselves, you have my permission. I won’t give you grief for receiving a “participation trophy” after playing a game of little league baseball. The fact that you even want to play baseball and have the athleticism to do so should say a lot about you. I’m over 300 lbs., so there’s no way I’m becoming an athlete of any kind in the near future, which means no participation trophy. Sports are hard to play and hard to be good at, which is why I stay away from them and stick to what I’m good at: writing, drawing, and photography. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***
As part of the WSS’s newly launched e-magazine, they’re holding a monthly contest in addition to the weekly ones, so I figured, why not write another story? This one will be called “Medicine Man” and it goes like this:
CHARACTERS:
Tetra Engel, Thief
Jax Nightshade, Dark Paladin
Anya Kolobalos, Gangster
PROMPT CONFORMITY: Tetra wants to give his cancer-stricken sister a fresh start in life by healing her.
SYNOPSIS: Jax is the innovator of “maggot therapy” and charges excessively high prices to cure his patients. When Tetra’s sister develops breast cancer, instead of forking over his life savings, he goes out and attempts to steal the maggots from Jax. In addition to the so-called “Medicine Man”, Tetra also has to be weary of Anya, a spear-wielding gangster who wants to steal the maggots to make recreational drugs to sell at an even higher price. It’s a three-way battle on the rooftop of Jax’s satanic church. Who will survive?
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
The next drawing I will turn out is of Caitlin Sparks, the rebellious swordswoman from “Sage Against the Machine”, which I wrote independently of the WSS contests. I’m trying to think of a cool costume for her, but nothing’s coming to mind just yet. Eh, I’ll figure it out eventually.
***POISON TONGUE TALES***
I’ve been busy editing the shit out of short stories and so far, so good. If I have my way, there will be one day where I edit six at a time just like I did today. The next to be bulldozed will be…
Guns, Drugs, and Misogyny
The Happy Slasher
Harvest Moon
Hell Yeah
I, Barbarian
If I Offer You My Soul (the one that coincidentally features a character named Ashley Marie)
***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
DANTE: Here’s what I don’t understand about you: you have a driver’s license, you can operate a grownup vehicle, but after you drive a go-kart, you somehow feel better about yourself.
RANDAL: Look, it just centers me, okay? Kind of like the way jerking off in the men’s bathroom at work centers you.
DANTE: Hey, that was one time and it wasn’t to center me.
RANDAL: You’re right. It was to cum.
DANTE: So why did we have to drive all the way out here just so you can ride the go-karts?
RANDAL: Look, I don’t want to jerk off in the bathroom at work. What if I’m going and a customer comes in all sex nuts and retard strong? Next thing you know, I’m fighting him off while he tries to jam my dick in his mouth.
DANTE: The likeliest of scenarios.
RANDAL: Yeah, well, I don’t know about you, but cumming centers me.
DANTE: Man, that shit Lance said must have really bothered you.
RANDAL: Oh, fuck him. He’s an asshole. He always was. I’m sorry I let him bother me for even a minute. At least I got a go-kart trip out of it.
DANTE: Why do the go-karts help?
RANDAL: They just remind me of a better time in my life.
DANTE: Like when?
RANDAL: When we were young and the world was right there in front of us.
DANTE: You’re not that old.
RANDAL: I know, but sometimes I think the world left us behind a long time ago.
DANTE: You can do something about that.
RANDAL: I told you, I’m not jerking off in the men’s bathroom at Mooby’s.
DANTE: No, not that. Have you ever thought about leaving Mooby’s and changing your situation in life?
RANDAL: What’s the point? Besides, why do you give a shit? You’re leaving.
-Clerks II-
February 26, 2016
Giving Up On Romance
VERSE 1
An army of girl crushes narrowed down to one
High speed chases have never been so much fun
The diamond ring that costs god knows how much
The divorce bill from the one you couldn’t trust
Broken and alone is what you’ve truly become
Liberty for your ex and only justice for some
Do you remember the fun times you’ve had?
Or does the stinging pain just hurt so damn bad?
CHORUS 1
Giving up on romance!
Never stood a single chance!
Giving up on romance!
This will be your final dance!
VERSE 2
Sex education says to wait until you’re married
How can that be when you’re dead and buried?
How does a broken heart heal instantaneously?
How do you know she’s feeling simultaneously?
Sell that golden ring for a hundred million bucks
Tell the whole world you don’t give two fucks
Everyone I know is tired of all the fights for two
Once everything is done, there’s one thing left to do
CHORUS 2
Giving up on romance!
Tighten that belt around your pants!
Giving up on romance!
Let them know your final stance!
VERSE 3
The army of crushes has been taken down to zero
There are only villains left, none of them are heroes
Your knight in shining armor has blood on his sword
Your fairytale princess has been taken by the horde
Romantic fiction is a statement so damn repetitive
One hundred other suitors feel so damn competitive
This is not your fight and she is not your prize
If you’re blinded by beauty, then just open your eyes
CHORUS 3
Giving up on romance!
Sick of being in a fucking trance!
Giving up on romance!
I could go on with a hundred rants!
Chugging alcohol!
Bouncing off the padded walls!
Crashing on the bed!
This stone cold heart is dead!
An army of girl crushes narrowed down to one
High speed chases have never been so much fun
The diamond ring that costs god knows how much
The divorce bill from the one you couldn’t trust
Broken and alone is what you’ve truly become
Liberty for your ex and only justice for some
Do you remember the fun times you’ve had?
Or does the stinging pain just hurt so damn bad?
CHORUS 1
Giving up on romance!
Never stood a single chance!
Giving up on romance!
This will be your final dance!
VERSE 2
Sex education says to wait until you’re married
How can that be when you’re dead and buried?
How does a broken heart heal instantaneously?
How do you know she’s feeling simultaneously?
Sell that golden ring for a hundred million bucks
Tell the whole world you don’t give two fucks
Everyone I know is tired of all the fights for two
Once everything is done, there’s one thing left to do
CHORUS 2
Giving up on romance!
Tighten that belt around your pants!
Giving up on romance!
Let them know your final stance!
VERSE 3
The army of crushes has been taken down to zero
There are only villains left, none of them are heroes
Your knight in shining armor has blood on his sword
Your fairytale princess has been taken by the horde
Romantic fiction is a statement so damn repetitive
One hundred other suitors feel so damn competitive
This is not your fight and she is not your prize
If you’re blinded by beauty, then just open your eyes
CHORUS 3
Giving up on romance!
Sick of being in a fucking trance!
Giving up on romance!
I could go on with a hundred rants!
Chugging alcohol!
Bouncing off the padded walls!
Crashing on the bed!
This stone cold heart is dead!
