Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 113
October 3, 2015
Weird Ass Dreams
I don’t often talk about my dreams anymore, but since I’m desperate for journal topics and it’s past the three day limit, I think this needs to be said. Last night, I had two of the weirdest dreams I could possibly have. The first one was just plain weird while the second one could be considered a nightmare. You don’t have to worry about me being traumatized or anything like that. But if I don’t share these dreams with you guys, I feel like it’ll be all for nothing. So, here we go…
In the first dream, my brother James took me to a theme park. At first I didn’t know what theme park it was, so naturally I envisioned water slides and rollercoasters as I tried to guess this surprise. Turns out it was a theme park based on the idea of Muslims and Jews getting along. I shit you not. Among the attractions were the two cultures sitting in a giant field with each other and going swimming together in an indoor pool. I like the idea of people coexisting peacefully, but there’s just one problem: no rollercoasters. None. Not one fucking rollercoaster. So I decide to send James a text message saying I’m headed for home to find something more fun to do than to hang out at the theme park. He sends one back to me saying that I’m ignorant and uneducated, basically muscling me back into the theme park with a guilt trip. And then the two of us run around the theme park pretending to be Clerks characters. I ate an ice cream cone beforehand, so naturally I gassed out early while James, being the athlete he is, outruns me for miles.
And then you have the second dream, the one I consider to be a nightmare. The dream took place in a massage parlor based on one that’s right here in my home town of Port Orchard. I wish I was making that part up. It’s in a strip mall next to the tobacco store where I used to buy Susan cigarettes. The windows are blacked out and the business sign just says “Massage”. In my dream, I finally decide it’s time to lose my virginity, so I go into that same massage parlor looking for sex. I have to wait in the lobby so that the staff can find me a suitable girl who will be my first lay. Here’s where the sexy dream turns into a nightmare. In the lobby, there are television monitors mounted on the walls. And on these monitors, they’re showing…(gulp)…overly muscular cartoon men from around the world raping each other as well as raping a few animals. I got the hell out of there as soon as I could, but the trauma still lingered. Regardless, James took out his smart phone and Googled a better place to get laid, which is in California. Before I had the chance to drive there, I woke up from the dream feeling terrified of what I saw in the massage parlor.
Will I be using these dreams for creative fuel? The answer to that question is the same as any other dream I’ve posted about in Garrison’s Library: no. I kept saying yes during those past posts, but I never got around to it, so I might as well give an honest answer and say no this time. However, the idea of weird ass dreams and nightmares could work in a short story for the WSS. Maybe the guy could go to a sleep clinic and have the worst nightmare in his whole life. He could be possessed by a demon or he could be haunted by psychological demons from his past. I like where this is going! We’ve got ears, say cheers!
In the first dream, my brother James took me to a theme park. At first I didn’t know what theme park it was, so naturally I envisioned water slides and rollercoasters as I tried to guess this surprise. Turns out it was a theme park based on the idea of Muslims and Jews getting along. I shit you not. Among the attractions were the two cultures sitting in a giant field with each other and going swimming together in an indoor pool. I like the idea of people coexisting peacefully, but there’s just one problem: no rollercoasters. None. Not one fucking rollercoaster. So I decide to send James a text message saying I’m headed for home to find something more fun to do than to hang out at the theme park. He sends one back to me saying that I’m ignorant and uneducated, basically muscling me back into the theme park with a guilt trip. And then the two of us run around the theme park pretending to be Clerks characters. I ate an ice cream cone beforehand, so naturally I gassed out early while James, being the athlete he is, outruns me for miles.
And then you have the second dream, the one I consider to be a nightmare. The dream took place in a massage parlor based on one that’s right here in my home town of Port Orchard. I wish I was making that part up. It’s in a strip mall next to the tobacco store where I used to buy Susan cigarettes. The windows are blacked out and the business sign just says “Massage”. In my dream, I finally decide it’s time to lose my virginity, so I go into that same massage parlor looking for sex. I have to wait in the lobby so that the staff can find me a suitable girl who will be my first lay. Here’s where the sexy dream turns into a nightmare. In the lobby, there are television monitors mounted on the walls. And on these monitors, they’re showing…(gulp)…overly muscular cartoon men from around the world raping each other as well as raping a few animals. I got the hell out of there as soon as I could, but the trauma still lingered. Regardless, James took out his smart phone and Googled a better place to get laid, which is in California. Before I had the chance to drive there, I woke up from the dream feeling terrified of what I saw in the massage parlor.
Will I be using these dreams for creative fuel? The answer to that question is the same as any other dream I’ve posted about in Garrison’s Library: no. I kept saying yes during those past posts, but I never got around to it, so I might as well give an honest answer and say no this time. However, the idea of weird ass dreams and nightmares could work in a short story for the WSS. Maybe the guy could go to a sleep clinic and have the worst nightmare in his whole life. He could be possessed by a demon or he could be haunted by psychological demons from his past. I like where this is going! We’ve got ears, say cheers!
October 1, 2015
Unleash the Animal
How exactly does an ancient weapon like a blunderbuss take down something magnificent like a rhino or a cheetah? For Joseph Stone, a few creative modifications such as a pump handle and an automatic firing chamber would have been the answer to that question. He tested the weapon out on a family of small rabbits to great success. He dined on their corpses afterwards and was hungry for bigger and better meals. The only place he could find such a gigantic meal was out in the Cracker Box Plains. Rhinos, antelope, buffalo, cheetahs, mmm-mmm-mmm!
Joseph Stone wasn’t the most athletic guy in the world with his belly protruding underneath his flak vest and over the top of his khaki shorts. Then again, he didn’t need to be since his hunting methods were so foolproof he never once had to run away from an animal. Even if he had the body of a Greek god, running away from one of these dangerous animals was damned near impossible.
And speaking of which, as soon as pudgy-buns Joseph spotted his next kill, he ducked down into the tall grass and cranked his modified blunderbuss. After making himself inconspicuous, he looked through the scope on his weapon and could only ask himself, “What the hell?”
It was an anthropomorphic rhino wearing spiked metal armor while carrying a nasty-looking battleaxe with a bone handle and a stone blade. To his animal peers, he was known as Stinger Crushwar, badass barbarian and all around disgusting creature. To Joseph Stone, Stinger was a potential dinner that made his chubby jowls water. He didn’t want to take the shot unless he was sure it would kill the son of a bitch right away.
Stinger stripped off his heavy metal armor and cannon-balled into a pool of silvery, pristine water. Well, the water wasn’t so pristine anymore after that. The dirt and grime on Stinger’s body mixed in with this usually delicious water and turned it into murky sewage. The rhino warrior also let out a monstrous fart that created a bigger splash than the cannonball. “This is the life!” he said to himself.
“You moron! Look what you did to my reflecting pool!” The nails-on-a-chalkboard voice that caught Stinger’s attention was that of an anthropomorphic antelope dressed in blue wizard robes named Rosie Moonbender. She stood there with her hands on her hips and an angry expression that was more wrinkly than a raisin. She went on to say, “I use this pool to mix potions and create spells! And now look what you’ve done! You turned it into your own personal shit hole!”
Stinger let out another rancid blast from his ass and the bubble splashed a little bit of water on Rosie’s robe. The antelope wizard held her clothing with disgust and shock, but not nearly as much as when she saw a gigantic brown turd floating near the top. Stinger smiled at his female rival and said nonchalantly, “You were saying?”
Rosie’s hooves dropped to her sides and clinched tightly as purple electric energy was swirling around her. Whatever spell she was going to cast had almost apocalyptic implications with the nearby tress being blown over and the grass turning the ashes. Stinger didn’t give a second shit how powerful this wizard was and armed himself with his battleaxe. He held the blade to her face while still wading in the sacred pool and said, “Don’t you try nothing funny, bitch! I hunt and skin your kind just for fun!”
A white beam of energy descended upon the rhino barbarian and the antelope wizard and blinded them temporarily until the source of the magic appeared right next to them in black knight’s armor and a red cloak. It was a buffalo paladin named Magnus Hoarfrost and his holier than thou stance led Stinger and Rosie to believe he would play the role of lawman in these wild plains.
“Clearly, a peaceful solution can be accomplished. The two of you are just too stressed out to see it right before your very eyes,” said Magnus in a deceptively calm deep voice. Stinger and Rosie looked at each other in confusion before letting the buffalo knight to continue this oratory. “The good lord has his eyes on everyone here in these holy plains. If you want to make a good impression, you can’t behave like sinful children. All you have to do is believe in the divine light that surrounds you all.”
The mighty religious rhetoric made Stinger yell, “Ha!” before the rhino warrior picked up his nasty turd and tossed it at Magnus, who looked down at the mess on his armor and shook his head before languidly wiping it off. Stinger, being a natural born animalistic migraine, laughed at the paladin with a hoarse and boisterous voice. Despite having her reflecting pool violated, Rosie Moonbender joined in the obnoxious laughter as well.
“Alright, you wild animals!” screamed Magnus Hoarfrost, who was now armed with two maces with spiked metal shells at the end of them. “If you want to act like disgusting sinners, then I shall treat you as such! The bowels of hell are hungry for new souls! You two will do just fine!”
The three-way battle was underway when Magnus threw a bolt of holy lightning down upon Rosie, who countered that spell with relentless glacial spikes. Magnus rained down holy fire upon the antelope wizard, but was met with a tidal wave of black magic. For the longest time, these two magic-slingers exchanged gigantic volleys of energy whether it was fire, ice, lightning, or shadow. They both had a counter for each other and even more surrounding trees were being knocked to the ground or shredded to pieces.
The one thing the two energy-slingers didn’t count on was them each getting a face full of murky water compliments of Stinger Crushwar, who was now out of the pool, fully dressed in his spiky metal armor, carrying his primitive battleaxe, and laughing at them like the sickening man-child he was. He even fell ass-first into the burned grass and didn’t feel a thing.
Rosie and Magnus nodded to each other and then powered up for what was surely to be cosmic chaos. Stinger got his bearings about him and got up into his defensive stance. He angrily charged across the burned grass and swung his axe with caveman passion as the magic users threw their fireballs and ice sickles at him. He smashed the energy shots away like he was playing the world’s most vicious and violent game of baseball.
One of the ice sickles bounced off of Stinger’s axe and impaled Rosie through her stomach. She gagged and coughed as blood was pouring out of her wound and her mouth at a rapid pace. The mystical diva dropped to her knees and plopped over onto her face as she took her final blood-covered breaths.
Magnus looked on at his “partner’s” death with Shakespearean shock when his mouth dropped open in dramatic fashion. He reached both maces to the sky and shouted, “Why?! Why, my dear lord?! Why would you take this fine young girl away from this earth?! She could have been saved! She could have listened to your divine word! She could have…”
The excessively dramatic speech was cut short when Stinger sneaked up behind Magnus and chopped his head off with one swing of his blade. The buffalo’s head rolled while the body shot blood out of its neck and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Stinger looked around at what he just did and raised his own fists to the skies to give out a barbaric war cry. “Hell yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! Now let’s see about getting back in that pool!”
After Stinger let out two casual laughs, his head exploded from his shoulders and his body dropped to the ground with blood leaking into the shit-infested reflecting pool. The whole time they were bickering, neither one of these three could pay any notice to the one person who could spell doom for these entire plains: Joseph Stone.
The hunter stood proudly over all three meaty animal corpses and nodded viciously before saying, “Yep! I’m going to be eating well tonight! Mmm-mmm-mmm!” He then started singing meaningless “doos” and “duns” to himself as he gathered pieces of the knocked over trees to build a bonfire. The blunderbuss he used to blow off Stinger’s head also had another creative feature attached to it: a flamethrower for barbecuing the meat that he loved so much.
Cooking the three corpses and eating them all took anywhere between three to four hours total. Joseph Stone’s appetite was that big. He sat on his ass with his flak vest open and his sauce-stained gut hanging down. He had dipping sauce, blood, and little shreds of meat hanging all around him for what was indeed a satisfying meal.
What wasn’t so satisfying was the fact that Joseph had a hard time sitting up. He could roll over and push himself off all he wanted to, but he was so glutinous that he was stuck on the ground. His heart rate began to accelerate and his skin was getting sweaty and cold. He crawled aimlessly with his sausage fingers over his boobed chest until he could crawl no more. That was when he accidentally plunged himself into the diarrhea pool and drowned while having a heart attack at the same time. To say that there were no winners in this battle for nothing was putting it mildly.
Joseph Stone wasn’t the most athletic guy in the world with his belly protruding underneath his flak vest and over the top of his khaki shorts. Then again, he didn’t need to be since his hunting methods were so foolproof he never once had to run away from an animal. Even if he had the body of a Greek god, running away from one of these dangerous animals was damned near impossible.
And speaking of which, as soon as pudgy-buns Joseph spotted his next kill, he ducked down into the tall grass and cranked his modified blunderbuss. After making himself inconspicuous, he looked through the scope on his weapon and could only ask himself, “What the hell?”
It was an anthropomorphic rhino wearing spiked metal armor while carrying a nasty-looking battleaxe with a bone handle and a stone blade. To his animal peers, he was known as Stinger Crushwar, badass barbarian and all around disgusting creature. To Joseph Stone, Stinger was a potential dinner that made his chubby jowls water. He didn’t want to take the shot unless he was sure it would kill the son of a bitch right away.
Stinger stripped off his heavy metal armor and cannon-balled into a pool of silvery, pristine water. Well, the water wasn’t so pristine anymore after that. The dirt and grime on Stinger’s body mixed in with this usually delicious water and turned it into murky sewage. The rhino warrior also let out a monstrous fart that created a bigger splash than the cannonball. “This is the life!” he said to himself.
“You moron! Look what you did to my reflecting pool!” The nails-on-a-chalkboard voice that caught Stinger’s attention was that of an anthropomorphic antelope dressed in blue wizard robes named Rosie Moonbender. She stood there with her hands on her hips and an angry expression that was more wrinkly than a raisin. She went on to say, “I use this pool to mix potions and create spells! And now look what you’ve done! You turned it into your own personal shit hole!”
Stinger let out another rancid blast from his ass and the bubble splashed a little bit of water on Rosie’s robe. The antelope wizard held her clothing with disgust and shock, but not nearly as much as when she saw a gigantic brown turd floating near the top. Stinger smiled at his female rival and said nonchalantly, “You were saying?”
Rosie’s hooves dropped to her sides and clinched tightly as purple electric energy was swirling around her. Whatever spell she was going to cast had almost apocalyptic implications with the nearby tress being blown over and the grass turning the ashes. Stinger didn’t give a second shit how powerful this wizard was and armed himself with his battleaxe. He held the blade to her face while still wading in the sacred pool and said, “Don’t you try nothing funny, bitch! I hunt and skin your kind just for fun!”
A white beam of energy descended upon the rhino barbarian and the antelope wizard and blinded them temporarily until the source of the magic appeared right next to them in black knight’s armor and a red cloak. It was a buffalo paladin named Magnus Hoarfrost and his holier than thou stance led Stinger and Rosie to believe he would play the role of lawman in these wild plains.
“Clearly, a peaceful solution can be accomplished. The two of you are just too stressed out to see it right before your very eyes,” said Magnus in a deceptively calm deep voice. Stinger and Rosie looked at each other in confusion before letting the buffalo knight to continue this oratory. “The good lord has his eyes on everyone here in these holy plains. If you want to make a good impression, you can’t behave like sinful children. All you have to do is believe in the divine light that surrounds you all.”
The mighty religious rhetoric made Stinger yell, “Ha!” before the rhino warrior picked up his nasty turd and tossed it at Magnus, who looked down at the mess on his armor and shook his head before languidly wiping it off. Stinger, being a natural born animalistic migraine, laughed at the paladin with a hoarse and boisterous voice. Despite having her reflecting pool violated, Rosie Moonbender joined in the obnoxious laughter as well.
“Alright, you wild animals!” screamed Magnus Hoarfrost, who was now armed with two maces with spiked metal shells at the end of them. “If you want to act like disgusting sinners, then I shall treat you as such! The bowels of hell are hungry for new souls! You two will do just fine!”
The three-way battle was underway when Magnus threw a bolt of holy lightning down upon Rosie, who countered that spell with relentless glacial spikes. Magnus rained down holy fire upon the antelope wizard, but was met with a tidal wave of black magic. For the longest time, these two magic-slingers exchanged gigantic volleys of energy whether it was fire, ice, lightning, or shadow. They both had a counter for each other and even more surrounding trees were being knocked to the ground or shredded to pieces.
The one thing the two energy-slingers didn’t count on was them each getting a face full of murky water compliments of Stinger Crushwar, who was now out of the pool, fully dressed in his spiky metal armor, carrying his primitive battleaxe, and laughing at them like the sickening man-child he was. He even fell ass-first into the burned grass and didn’t feel a thing.
Rosie and Magnus nodded to each other and then powered up for what was surely to be cosmic chaos. Stinger got his bearings about him and got up into his defensive stance. He angrily charged across the burned grass and swung his axe with caveman passion as the magic users threw their fireballs and ice sickles at him. He smashed the energy shots away like he was playing the world’s most vicious and violent game of baseball.
One of the ice sickles bounced off of Stinger’s axe and impaled Rosie through her stomach. She gagged and coughed as blood was pouring out of her wound and her mouth at a rapid pace. The mystical diva dropped to her knees and plopped over onto her face as she took her final blood-covered breaths.
Magnus looked on at his “partner’s” death with Shakespearean shock when his mouth dropped open in dramatic fashion. He reached both maces to the sky and shouted, “Why?! Why, my dear lord?! Why would you take this fine young girl away from this earth?! She could have been saved! She could have listened to your divine word! She could have…”
The excessively dramatic speech was cut short when Stinger sneaked up behind Magnus and chopped his head off with one swing of his blade. The buffalo’s head rolled while the body shot blood out of its neck and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Stinger looked around at what he just did and raised his own fists to the skies to give out a barbaric war cry. “Hell yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! Now let’s see about getting back in that pool!”
After Stinger let out two casual laughs, his head exploded from his shoulders and his body dropped to the ground with blood leaking into the shit-infested reflecting pool. The whole time they were bickering, neither one of these three could pay any notice to the one person who could spell doom for these entire plains: Joseph Stone.
The hunter stood proudly over all three meaty animal corpses and nodded viciously before saying, “Yep! I’m going to be eating well tonight! Mmm-mmm-mmm!” He then started singing meaningless “doos” and “duns” to himself as he gathered pieces of the knocked over trees to build a bonfire. The blunderbuss he used to blow off Stinger’s head also had another creative feature attached to it: a flamethrower for barbecuing the meat that he loved so much.
Cooking the three corpses and eating them all took anywhere between three to four hours total. Joseph Stone’s appetite was that big. He sat on his ass with his flak vest open and his sauce-stained gut hanging down. He had dipping sauce, blood, and little shreds of meat hanging all around him for what was indeed a satisfying meal.
What wasn’t so satisfying was the fact that Joseph had a hard time sitting up. He could roll over and push himself off all he wanted to, but he was so glutinous that he was stuck on the ground. His heart rate began to accelerate and his skin was getting sweaty and cold. He crawled aimlessly with his sausage fingers over his boobed chest until he could crawl no more. That was when he accidentally plunged himself into the diarrhea pool and drowned while having a heart attack at the same time. To say that there were no winners in this battle for nothing was putting it mildly.
September 30, 2015
Four New Novel Ideas
***FOUR NEW NOVEL IDEAS***
With “Blood Brawl” on indefinite hiatus and a lack of mental energy to complete “Poison Tongue Tales”, these four new novel ideas might be what I need to get me going again. I already have synopses in my reserve treatments folder for Occupy Wrestling 2, LuNacho, and others I’ve mentioned in the past, but somehow it’s not enough. When it comes to creative fuel, I say, the more, the merrier. One of the new ideas is in the vein of my typical action fantasy ass-beating stories with barbarians and whatnot. The other three are in the vein of my American Darkness stories in the sense that they’re contemporary dramas. Are you ready for the unveiling of four potential new ideas? I know I am!
***BARBARIC JUSTICE***
HEROES:
Charles Goodhorn, Human Dark Paladin
Makoto Seran, Elf Bard
Darthania Gaveston, Elf Wizard
VILLAINS:
Sid Thunderflash, Cosmic Barbarian
Justin Hellmasker, Cosmic Barbarian
Edge Warbringer, Cosmic Barbarian
SYNOPSIS: The three “cosmic barbarians” find themselves on earth with no idea how they got separated from their extraterrestrial home world. They hold a trade route between two economically-charged towns hostage until someone helps them get back to their home world. Charles wants to slay the three barbarians while Makoto and Darthania choose a more peaceful approach. Charles is eventually the one who gets what he wants, but now earth has to deal with a mass invasion of barbarians from the original home planet. If Charles has any chance of atoning for his sins, he has to make the transformation from dark paladin to holy knight.
***THE HAS-BEEN SOCIETY***
CHARACTERS:
Tim Paladin, Washed-Up Wrestler
Bret Siren, Washed-Up Bass Guitarist
Marshall Johnson, Washed-Up Baseball Player
Uriah Cooper, Washed-Up Televangelist
Wendi Kael, Elementary School Student
Stephanie Archer, Doctor and Wendi’s Mother
SYNOPSIS: Budget cuts are taking place at Wendi’s school and art classes are the first to take the brunt. To convince the kids how “worthless” the arts are to a future career, The Has-Been Society calls an assembly to share their life experiences with failure as performers. Everybody seems to be buying into their propaganda except for Wendi and Stephanie, who work together to fight for Wendi’s individuality.
***NOBODY CARES WHAT HAPPENS TO CARTOON CHARACTERS***
CHARACTERS:
Max Frye, Vengeful Cartoonist
Phil Myles, Max’s High School Math Teacher
Christie Knox, Max’s Psychologist
Leah Miller, Detective
OPENING SCENE: Instead of working on his high school math assignments, Max is drawing disgusting pictures of cartoon characters getting molested, raped, and tortured. In a scene reminiscent of Pink Floyd the Wall’s classroom encounter, Phil sarcastically shows off Max’s artwork to the class and then slaps his hand with a pencil because “That’s not how sex works.” The two pictures Phil shows off are of Eddy from Ed, Edd, n’ Eddy sucking off Kevin and also of Bambi bound, ball-gagged, and with a “deer spear” in his ass.
PRESENT DAY: The traumatizing memory has sent Max to therapy under the guidance of Christie Knox. Unbeknown to her, Max has been getting revenge on the world by dropping off his sickening drawings in random public places. These places can be anywhere from a McDonald’s bathroom to the bookshelves of a library to even a child’s desk at an elementary school. Max hasn’t been made an official suspect since nobody knows it’s him, but Leah is determined to glean answers from Christie. Leah’s other cornucopia of information comes from the now-retired math teacher Phil Myles, who’s been living in seclusion for the past ten years.
***TENDER LOVING INTENSIVE CARE***
MAIN CHARACTERS:
Colton Louis, Author
Beth Santiago, Colton’s Fiance
Kim Abbott, Colton’s Stalker
Todd Warren, Detective
SYNOPSIS: Colton seems to have his life in order with the launch of his newest book and his engagement to Beth. His public and private life are both in jeopardy when his ex-girlfriend Kim sexually harasses him on the streets, at home, and on the internet. Kim’s erratic behavior threatens Colton and Beth’s relationship, so the couple decided to end this once and for all. When they arrive at Kim’s apartment, the stalker thinks she’s going to get three-way sex. Instead, she gets the world’s most vicious beating and a trip to the intensive care unit. Six months later, Todd Warren is assigned to investigate Kim’s beating and the cycle of harassment continues all over again.
***CONCLUSION***
Why am I posting this journal? For the same reason I always do: because it’s past my three day limit and I’m desperate for topics. I was going to do a rant about people who invade my personal space, but with all of the talks about introversion and shyness I’ve done, it would feel like I’m beating a dead horse. Speaking of which, we’ve got ears, say cheers!
***FACE BOOK STATUS UPDATES OF THE DAY***
If Bray Wyatt and Roman Reigns ever became a celebrity super couple, they could be called Breigns (“brains”), Ryatt (“riot”), or Woman. I know they’re both heterosexuals, but the name combinations would be hilarious.
After reading “The Silence of the Lambs”, I find it disturbing that there’s a football team in New York called The Buffalo Bills.
With “Blood Brawl” on indefinite hiatus and a lack of mental energy to complete “Poison Tongue Tales”, these four new novel ideas might be what I need to get me going again. I already have synopses in my reserve treatments folder for Occupy Wrestling 2, LuNacho, and others I’ve mentioned in the past, but somehow it’s not enough. When it comes to creative fuel, I say, the more, the merrier. One of the new ideas is in the vein of my typical action fantasy ass-beating stories with barbarians and whatnot. The other three are in the vein of my American Darkness stories in the sense that they’re contemporary dramas. Are you ready for the unveiling of four potential new ideas? I know I am!
***BARBARIC JUSTICE***
HEROES:
Charles Goodhorn, Human Dark Paladin
Makoto Seran, Elf Bard
Darthania Gaveston, Elf Wizard
VILLAINS:
Sid Thunderflash, Cosmic Barbarian
Justin Hellmasker, Cosmic Barbarian
Edge Warbringer, Cosmic Barbarian
SYNOPSIS: The three “cosmic barbarians” find themselves on earth with no idea how they got separated from their extraterrestrial home world. They hold a trade route between two economically-charged towns hostage until someone helps them get back to their home world. Charles wants to slay the three barbarians while Makoto and Darthania choose a more peaceful approach. Charles is eventually the one who gets what he wants, but now earth has to deal with a mass invasion of barbarians from the original home planet. If Charles has any chance of atoning for his sins, he has to make the transformation from dark paladin to holy knight.
***THE HAS-BEEN SOCIETY***
CHARACTERS:
Tim Paladin, Washed-Up Wrestler
Bret Siren, Washed-Up Bass Guitarist
Marshall Johnson, Washed-Up Baseball Player
Uriah Cooper, Washed-Up Televangelist
Wendi Kael, Elementary School Student
Stephanie Archer, Doctor and Wendi’s Mother
SYNOPSIS: Budget cuts are taking place at Wendi’s school and art classes are the first to take the brunt. To convince the kids how “worthless” the arts are to a future career, The Has-Been Society calls an assembly to share their life experiences with failure as performers. Everybody seems to be buying into their propaganda except for Wendi and Stephanie, who work together to fight for Wendi’s individuality.
***NOBODY CARES WHAT HAPPENS TO CARTOON CHARACTERS***
CHARACTERS:
Max Frye, Vengeful Cartoonist
Phil Myles, Max’s High School Math Teacher
Christie Knox, Max’s Psychologist
Leah Miller, Detective
OPENING SCENE: Instead of working on his high school math assignments, Max is drawing disgusting pictures of cartoon characters getting molested, raped, and tortured. In a scene reminiscent of Pink Floyd the Wall’s classroom encounter, Phil sarcastically shows off Max’s artwork to the class and then slaps his hand with a pencil because “That’s not how sex works.” The two pictures Phil shows off are of Eddy from Ed, Edd, n’ Eddy sucking off Kevin and also of Bambi bound, ball-gagged, and with a “deer spear” in his ass.
PRESENT DAY: The traumatizing memory has sent Max to therapy under the guidance of Christie Knox. Unbeknown to her, Max has been getting revenge on the world by dropping off his sickening drawings in random public places. These places can be anywhere from a McDonald’s bathroom to the bookshelves of a library to even a child’s desk at an elementary school. Max hasn’t been made an official suspect since nobody knows it’s him, but Leah is determined to glean answers from Christie. Leah’s other cornucopia of information comes from the now-retired math teacher Phil Myles, who’s been living in seclusion for the past ten years.
***TENDER LOVING INTENSIVE CARE***
MAIN CHARACTERS:
Colton Louis, Author
Beth Santiago, Colton’s Fiance
Kim Abbott, Colton’s Stalker
Todd Warren, Detective
SYNOPSIS: Colton seems to have his life in order with the launch of his newest book and his engagement to Beth. His public and private life are both in jeopardy when his ex-girlfriend Kim sexually harasses him on the streets, at home, and on the internet. Kim’s erratic behavior threatens Colton and Beth’s relationship, so the couple decided to end this once and for all. When they arrive at Kim’s apartment, the stalker thinks she’s going to get three-way sex. Instead, she gets the world’s most vicious beating and a trip to the intensive care unit. Six months later, Todd Warren is assigned to investigate Kim’s beating and the cycle of harassment continues all over again.
***CONCLUSION***
Why am I posting this journal? For the same reason I always do: because it’s past my three day limit and I’m desperate for topics. I was going to do a rant about people who invade my personal space, but with all of the talks about introversion and shyness I’ve done, it would feel like I’m beating a dead horse. Speaking of which, we’ve got ears, say cheers!
***FACE BOOK STATUS UPDATES OF THE DAY***
If Bray Wyatt and Roman Reigns ever became a celebrity super couple, they could be called Breigns (“brains”), Ryatt (“riot”), or Woman. I know they’re both heterosexuals, but the name combinations would be hilarious.
After reading “The Silence of the Lambs”, I find it disturbing that there’s a football team in New York called The Buffalo Bills.
September 29, 2015
WWE NXT: Eva Marie vs. Carmella
MATCH: Eva Marie vs. Carmella
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: Episode of NXT
YEAR: 2015
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Did Not Finish
Being negative is not one of my strong suits. There was a time when I was young and immature and negativity came naturally to me. These days whenever I give a bad review, a little piece of me on the inside dies a brutal death. With that being said, if I don’t do this review, I feel like it will be a missed opportunity to tell it like it is. This needs to be said even though it’s already being said by tons of people. Hell, the NXT audience at Full Sail University in Florida are vocal every time Eva Marie steps through the gorilla position; they boo her relentlessly.
Carmella, on the other hand, I have no problem with. Yes, she used to be rough around the edges when it came to wrestling. Yes, her theme music gives me migraines. But the difference between Carmella and Eva Marie is that the former is capable of improving her game. Carmella used to get as many boos as her opponent, but after hanging around with Enzo Amore and Colin Cassady for long enough and standing up for her boys, those boos eventually turned to cheers. Maybe it has something to do with her funky dance moves. She can moonwalk, for Christ’s sake. Moonwalk!
Eva Marie doesn’t deserve the same praise as the other divas for her wrestling abilities. In fact, watching her wrestle is as awkward as my schizophrenic behavior in the grocery store line. I understand that she wants to get better and has even recruited the help of wrestling veteran and former WWE Tag Team Champion Brian Kendrick to train her. This isn’t a knock against Brian Kendrick, but when I watched Eva Marie on that episode of NXT battling Carmella, I didn’t see improvement. I saw drunken choreography without the breathalyzer test.
Here’s how the match went down. Carmella and Eva Marie got in several collar elbow tie ups and the latter had the former pinned against the corner for a series of unconvincing elbows to the face. Eva Marie’s strikes looked more like massage therapy than combat. So what does Carmella do? She throws that Jessica Rabbit clone through the ropes and lets her crash and burn on the steel ramp. And then Carmella did a little spinning dance and the moonwalk to excite the crowd. Eva Marie eventually got back in the ring and gave her opponent a series of weird-looking vertical suplexes. There were even times when Eva was setting up the move and it looked like she was having a tough time deciding which wrestling move to do.
Before my IQ dropped any further, I grabbed my Roku remote and fast forwarded through that match. I never figured out who won, nor did I care. If watching this match doesn’t make your brain hurt, listen to this. Eva Marie has actually been picking up wins since debuting in NXT, presumably to be pushed into contention for the NXT Women’s Championship, which is currently held by Bayley, a true wrestler in every sense of the word. Really, NXT? You’re the hottest thing going on in wrestling today and you want to push Eva Marie into the main event? You’re right. Eva Marie is red hot. Her matches burn my eyes!
If there is a God in heaven, then He will do the right thing and inspire the readership of the Wrestling Observer Newsletter to show Eva Marie no mercy in the award votes. She’s definitely qualified for Most Overrated, Worst Worked Match of the Year, and even Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic for botching the ending to an NXT match she had against Billie Kay. Either that or she’ll win the latter award just for being pushed. Bob Backlund, Jose Gonzalez, and Eric Watts are all wrestling legends who were given the Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic award just for being the recipient of a main event push. However, if WWE continues to insult their fans for buying pay-per-views instead of subscribing to the WWE Network, Eva Marie might get a reprieve from the MDPT award.
I need a shower. A long, boiling hot shower with easy access to my Head and Shoulders shampoo and my Axe Phoenix body wash. Writing this review didn’t feel good. Then again, negativity is never therapeutic no matter which channel it comes out of.
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: Episode of NXT
YEAR: 2015
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Did Not Finish
Being negative is not one of my strong suits. There was a time when I was young and immature and negativity came naturally to me. These days whenever I give a bad review, a little piece of me on the inside dies a brutal death. With that being said, if I don’t do this review, I feel like it will be a missed opportunity to tell it like it is. This needs to be said even though it’s already being said by tons of people. Hell, the NXT audience at Full Sail University in Florida are vocal every time Eva Marie steps through the gorilla position; they boo her relentlessly.
Carmella, on the other hand, I have no problem with. Yes, she used to be rough around the edges when it came to wrestling. Yes, her theme music gives me migraines. But the difference between Carmella and Eva Marie is that the former is capable of improving her game. Carmella used to get as many boos as her opponent, but after hanging around with Enzo Amore and Colin Cassady for long enough and standing up for her boys, those boos eventually turned to cheers. Maybe it has something to do with her funky dance moves. She can moonwalk, for Christ’s sake. Moonwalk!
Eva Marie doesn’t deserve the same praise as the other divas for her wrestling abilities. In fact, watching her wrestle is as awkward as my schizophrenic behavior in the grocery store line. I understand that she wants to get better and has even recruited the help of wrestling veteran and former WWE Tag Team Champion Brian Kendrick to train her. This isn’t a knock against Brian Kendrick, but when I watched Eva Marie on that episode of NXT battling Carmella, I didn’t see improvement. I saw drunken choreography without the breathalyzer test.
Here’s how the match went down. Carmella and Eva Marie got in several collar elbow tie ups and the latter had the former pinned against the corner for a series of unconvincing elbows to the face. Eva Marie’s strikes looked more like massage therapy than combat. So what does Carmella do? She throws that Jessica Rabbit clone through the ropes and lets her crash and burn on the steel ramp. And then Carmella did a little spinning dance and the moonwalk to excite the crowd. Eva Marie eventually got back in the ring and gave her opponent a series of weird-looking vertical suplexes. There were even times when Eva was setting up the move and it looked like she was having a tough time deciding which wrestling move to do.
Before my IQ dropped any further, I grabbed my Roku remote and fast forwarded through that match. I never figured out who won, nor did I care. If watching this match doesn’t make your brain hurt, listen to this. Eva Marie has actually been picking up wins since debuting in NXT, presumably to be pushed into contention for the NXT Women’s Championship, which is currently held by Bayley, a true wrestler in every sense of the word. Really, NXT? You’re the hottest thing going on in wrestling today and you want to push Eva Marie into the main event? You’re right. Eva Marie is red hot. Her matches burn my eyes!
If there is a God in heaven, then He will do the right thing and inspire the readership of the Wrestling Observer Newsletter to show Eva Marie no mercy in the award votes. She’s definitely qualified for Most Overrated, Worst Worked Match of the Year, and even Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic for botching the ending to an NXT match she had against Billie Kay. Either that or she’ll win the latter award just for being pushed. Bob Backlund, Jose Gonzalez, and Eric Watts are all wrestling legends who were given the Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic award just for being the recipient of a main event push. However, if WWE continues to insult their fans for buying pay-per-views instead of subscribing to the WWE Network, Eva Marie might get a reprieve from the MDPT award.
I need a shower. A long, boiling hot shower with easy access to my Head and Shoulders shampoo and my Axe Phoenix body wash. Writing this review didn’t feel good. Then again, negativity is never therapeutic no matter which channel it comes out of.
September 27, 2015
Frequently Asked Questions
QUESTION: What do you do for a living?
GENERIC ANSWER: I’m unemployed.
HONEST ANSWER: I write books about blood and gore.
LIE: I work with impoverished children in the Democratic Society of Who Gives a Shit.
QUESTION: Are you excited for school?
GENERIC ANSWER: I’m 30 years old; I’m too old for school.
HONEST ANSWER: Going to school leaves me dead inside.
LIE: I can’t fucking wait.
QUESTION: Where are you from?
GENERIC ANSWER: Here.
HONEST ANSWER: I was born in Oregon City.
LIE: I was born on Planet Jupiter. I come in peace.
QUESTION: Do you have a girlfriend?
GENERIC ANSWER: No.
HONEST ANSWER: Nobody will come up to me.
LIE: I’m currently in a relationship with the entire cast of WWE Total Divas.
QUESTION: What do you do for fun?
GENERIC ANSWER: Read and write.
HONEST ANSWER: Masturbate to sexy You Tube videos.
LIE: Skydive off of the Seattle Space Needle.
QUESTION: What kind of music do you like?
GENERIC ANSWER: Heavy metal.
HONEST ANSWER: Heavy metal songs about death and ass-beatings.
LIE: Sheryl Crow and The Dixie Chicks.
QUESTION: What do you like to watch on TV?
GENERIC ANSWER: Wrestling.
HONEST ANSWER: Violence. Lots and lots of violence.
LIE: Doctor Who.
QUESTION: What kind of books do you like to read?
GENERIC ANSWER: Anything with a fast pace.
HONEST ANSWER: Anything that leaves me emotionally unstable for the next few days.
LIE: Literary genre books that you’d find in college.
QUESTION: Are you doing anything fun for the weekend?
GENERIC ANSWER: Not really.
HONEST ANSWER: I’m going to a heavy metal concert of a band you probably don’t give a shit about.
LIE: I’m running a marathon.
QUESTION: Do you have a car?
GENERIC ANSWER: No.
HONEST ANSWER: Owning a car is expensive and driving itself is scary and stressful.
LIE: I have an SUV that costs a C-note to fill up half of a tank.
STATEMENT: Have a great day!
GENERIC ANSWER: Ung-koy (“okay”).
HONEST ANSWER: I would have liked it even better if I didn’t have to make small talk all the time.
LIE: It’s going to be a rocket-buster of a day!
GENERIC ANSWER: I’m unemployed.
HONEST ANSWER: I write books about blood and gore.
LIE: I work with impoverished children in the Democratic Society of Who Gives a Shit.
QUESTION: Are you excited for school?
GENERIC ANSWER: I’m 30 years old; I’m too old for school.
HONEST ANSWER: Going to school leaves me dead inside.
LIE: I can’t fucking wait.
QUESTION: Where are you from?
GENERIC ANSWER: Here.
HONEST ANSWER: I was born in Oregon City.
LIE: I was born on Planet Jupiter. I come in peace.
QUESTION: Do you have a girlfriend?
GENERIC ANSWER: No.
HONEST ANSWER: Nobody will come up to me.
LIE: I’m currently in a relationship with the entire cast of WWE Total Divas.
QUESTION: What do you do for fun?
GENERIC ANSWER: Read and write.
HONEST ANSWER: Masturbate to sexy You Tube videos.
LIE: Skydive off of the Seattle Space Needle.
QUESTION: What kind of music do you like?
GENERIC ANSWER: Heavy metal.
HONEST ANSWER: Heavy metal songs about death and ass-beatings.
LIE: Sheryl Crow and The Dixie Chicks.
QUESTION: What do you like to watch on TV?
GENERIC ANSWER: Wrestling.
HONEST ANSWER: Violence. Lots and lots of violence.
LIE: Doctor Who.
QUESTION: What kind of books do you like to read?
GENERIC ANSWER: Anything with a fast pace.
HONEST ANSWER: Anything that leaves me emotionally unstable for the next few days.
LIE: Literary genre books that you’d find in college.
QUESTION: Are you doing anything fun for the weekend?
GENERIC ANSWER: Not really.
HONEST ANSWER: I’m going to a heavy metal concert of a band you probably don’t give a shit about.
LIE: I’m running a marathon.
QUESTION: Do you have a car?
GENERIC ANSWER: No.
HONEST ANSWER: Owning a car is expensive and driving itself is scary and stressful.
LIE: I have an SUV that costs a C-note to fill up half of a tank.
STATEMENT: Have a great day!
GENERIC ANSWER: Ung-koy (“okay”).
HONEST ANSWER: I would have liked it even better if I didn’t have to make small talk all the time.
LIE: It’s going to be a rocket-buster of a day!
September 25, 2015
Islands
***ISLANDS***
As much as I love talking about beautiful places like Hawaii, I’m not talking about those kinds of islands tonight. The term island can also be used to refer to anybody who feels alone in the world in at least one way. For this journal, the islands I’m talking about are people who are convinced they’re the only members of a certain fan base. I’m sure we’ve all felt like islands before. We feel like we’re the only ones who listen to Seether, the only ones who watch Inuyasha, or the only ones who play with Legos despite being 40 years old. While it is true that the island mentality is only an illusion, the other members of the obscure fandom can be so far out of reach for a lot of people. It’s especially hard when the person isn’t very good at social situations to begin with.
There are times when I personally feel like an island with the things I love. I’ve yet to find other people on Good Reads who are as zealous about pro-wrestling as I am. I tried to start a Dungeons & Dragons group, but no matter where or how many times I’ve advertised, nobody joined, so I had to close it down. I’ve found a few people at the WSS who enjoy Pantera’s music, but then again, when a layman thinks of heavy metal music, they either think of Pantera or Metallica. I don’t hear a lot of chatter about Soulfly, All That Remains, Slipknot, or Lamb of God.
As a man stranded on this island of weird interests and core values, the logical solution would be to get in a rowboat and sail to faraway lands. But there are several obstacles that lie in the way. The waters are too rough to navigate without being capsized. I have no idea where the hell I’m going when I’m out there. Bringing people to my island is just as hard for them since they lack navigation and aren’t interested in being capsized either. In case you’re wondering, yes, these are analogies and no, I don’t live in Hawaii. I want to live in Hawaii someday, but today’s not the day.
But as you gain more and more interests, the lower the water becomes to expose more land. When the water sinks far down enough, you cease to become an island and you might even become a whole continent. Continents are islands by definition, but they’re much larger because they’re housing different cities and nations. When you increase the size of your land, you include more people and your cities and nations will develop beyond the third world. And though it may be hard on right-wingers in particular, you have to occasionally let some immigrants pass through your borders and spread their ideas to make the population more open-minded. Yes, I’m using analogies again, but I’m putting a lot of faith in you guys to decipher them.
To use literal terms, increasing my interests would be as simple as turning on my TV and surfing my Roku for new shows to watch. It could also mean trying out new computer games since that’s the only gaming platform I have as of today. Well, that’s not entirely true. I do have a Nintendo DS, but I’m pretty sure it’s dated. I could also look for music to listen to outside my heavy metal and new age borders, as long as it’s not disposable pop music or ultra-conservative country songs.
Sailing the rough waters should be as easy as getting off my ass and finding things to do. I certainly have the open schedule to do it, but that’s where my conversations about mental energy come back to bite me in the ass. You know you’re exhausted all the time when you’re too sluggish to sit on your ass and watch TV. Trying new things will require a visit to a sleep clinic to eventually diagnose me with sleep apnea and get me a prescription for an oxygen mask.
But even after I gain all of this energy, I still have to get in the mood to actually try new things. This sounds easy, but for me in particular, it’s not. Trying new things would mean taking a chance against something I might not like or might fail at. I fear failure so much that I’d rather stick to what I’m good at than risk looking like a fool or getting frustrated with what I’m doing. I’ve practiced playing the guitar for a lot of my pre-teen and teenage years. Despite getting an A in my middle school guitar class, I never got better at playing and I eventually gave up on it. It’s weird, because I’m not the best drawer in the world, yet I keep pumping out pictures like hotcakes. But I still get frustrated when trying to play a stupid goddamn guitar. No wonder Pete Townsend likes to smash his instruments.
If I ever decide to stop being an island, it’s going to take some help and convincing from other people. It’s not as simple as saying, “Go to You Tube and check it out!”, because I will likely tell you to go to hell. To use more island analogies, if I’m going to sail rough waters to other foreign lands, I’m going to do it on a Norwegian Cruise Line and not in a rowboat. I’ll be the passenger who cruises the various restaurants, and you, the one who wants me to see these foreign lands, will be the captain of the ship. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***POISON TONGUE TALES***
As of this moment, I have 35 short stories that fall under the sci-fi, fantasy, and horror genres. My goal is the same as with American Darkness and my drama stories: I want to hit the magical number of 50. Because I’m currently suffering from writer’s block when it comes to Blood Brawl, I’m instead going to choose Poison Tongue Tales stories to write without the WSS’s prompts. A man cannot live on movie, book, and wrestling match reviews alone. That, and I’ve pretty much given up on writing character profiles since they all sound the same to me. Here’s a sneak preview of “Harvest Moon”, the next PTT story I will write:
CHARACTERS:
Ambrose Volta, Witchdoctor
Kendra Callahan, Assassin
PROMPT CONFORMITY: I’m doing this without the WSS’s prompts (no offense to those guys; I love them like family).
SYNOPSIS: Kendra has been hired to protect a funeral home that has been broken into several times over the past few days. During her patrol, she catches the culprit, Ambrose, in the act of harvesting spirit energy from the corpses and stealing valuable objects off of them. Kendra and Ambrose battle it out together in a war of martial arts vs. magic. The fight gets interesting when Ambrose reveals what he plans on doing with the harvested energy.
In addition to writing new stories, I will also be editing old ones. The next one I edit is “Ascension”, a barbarian story which will eventually have a new title since the old one doesn’t fit.
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“I caught a snake one time. I skinned it and drank its blood. It’s in a better place now.”
-Braun Strowman, the Wyatt Family’s “Face of Destruction”-
As much as I love talking about beautiful places like Hawaii, I’m not talking about those kinds of islands tonight. The term island can also be used to refer to anybody who feels alone in the world in at least one way. For this journal, the islands I’m talking about are people who are convinced they’re the only members of a certain fan base. I’m sure we’ve all felt like islands before. We feel like we’re the only ones who listen to Seether, the only ones who watch Inuyasha, or the only ones who play with Legos despite being 40 years old. While it is true that the island mentality is only an illusion, the other members of the obscure fandom can be so far out of reach for a lot of people. It’s especially hard when the person isn’t very good at social situations to begin with.
There are times when I personally feel like an island with the things I love. I’ve yet to find other people on Good Reads who are as zealous about pro-wrestling as I am. I tried to start a Dungeons & Dragons group, but no matter where or how many times I’ve advertised, nobody joined, so I had to close it down. I’ve found a few people at the WSS who enjoy Pantera’s music, but then again, when a layman thinks of heavy metal music, they either think of Pantera or Metallica. I don’t hear a lot of chatter about Soulfly, All That Remains, Slipknot, or Lamb of God.
As a man stranded on this island of weird interests and core values, the logical solution would be to get in a rowboat and sail to faraway lands. But there are several obstacles that lie in the way. The waters are too rough to navigate without being capsized. I have no idea where the hell I’m going when I’m out there. Bringing people to my island is just as hard for them since they lack navigation and aren’t interested in being capsized either. In case you’re wondering, yes, these are analogies and no, I don’t live in Hawaii. I want to live in Hawaii someday, but today’s not the day.
But as you gain more and more interests, the lower the water becomes to expose more land. When the water sinks far down enough, you cease to become an island and you might even become a whole continent. Continents are islands by definition, but they’re much larger because they’re housing different cities and nations. When you increase the size of your land, you include more people and your cities and nations will develop beyond the third world. And though it may be hard on right-wingers in particular, you have to occasionally let some immigrants pass through your borders and spread their ideas to make the population more open-minded. Yes, I’m using analogies again, but I’m putting a lot of faith in you guys to decipher them.
To use literal terms, increasing my interests would be as simple as turning on my TV and surfing my Roku for new shows to watch. It could also mean trying out new computer games since that’s the only gaming platform I have as of today. Well, that’s not entirely true. I do have a Nintendo DS, but I’m pretty sure it’s dated. I could also look for music to listen to outside my heavy metal and new age borders, as long as it’s not disposable pop music or ultra-conservative country songs.
Sailing the rough waters should be as easy as getting off my ass and finding things to do. I certainly have the open schedule to do it, but that’s where my conversations about mental energy come back to bite me in the ass. You know you’re exhausted all the time when you’re too sluggish to sit on your ass and watch TV. Trying new things will require a visit to a sleep clinic to eventually diagnose me with sleep apnea and get me a prescription for an oxygen mask.
But even after I gain all of this energy, I still have to get in the mood to actually try new things. This sounds easy, but for me in particular, it’s not. Trying new things would mean taking a chance against something I might not like or might fail at. I fear failure so much that I’d rather stick to what I’m good at than risk looking like a fool or getting frustrated with what I’m doing. I’ve practiced playing the guitar for a lot of my pre-teen and teenage years. Despite getting an A in my middle school guitar class, I never got better at playing and I eventually gave up on it. It’s weird, because I’m not the best drawer in the world, yet I keep pumping out pictures like hotcakes. But I still get frustrated when trying to play a stupid goddamn guitar. No wonder Pete Townsend likes to smash his instruments.
If I ever decide to stop being an island, it’s going to take some help and convincing from other people. It’s not as simple as saying, “Go to You Tube and check it out!”, because I will likely tell you to go to hell. To use more island analogies, if I’m going to sail rough waters to other foreign lands, I’m going to do it on a Norwegian Cruise Line and not in a rowboat. I’ll be the passenger who cruises the various restaurants, and you, the one who wants me to see these foreign lands, will be the captain of the ship. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***POISON TONGUE TALES***
As of this moment, I have 35 short stories that fall under the sci-fi, fantasy, and horror genres. My goal is the same as with American Darkness and my drama stories: I want to hit the magical number of 50. Because I’m currently suffering from writer’s block when it comes to Blood Brawl, I’m instead going to choose Poison Tongue Tales stories to write without the WSS’s prompts. A man cannot live on movie, book, and wrestling match reviews alone. That, and I’ve pretty much given up on writing character profiles since they all sound the same to me. Here’s a sneak preview of “Harvest Moon”, the next PTT story I will write:
CHARACTERS:
Ambrose Volta, Witchdoctor
Kendra Callahan, Assassin
PROMPT CONFORMITY: I’m doing this without the WSS’s prompts (no offense to those guys; I love them like family).
SYNOPSIS: Kendra has been hired to protect a funeral home that has been broken into several times over the past few days. During her patrol, she catches the culprit, Ambrose, in the act of harvesting spirit energy from the corpses and stealing valuable objects off of them. Kendra and Ambrose battle it out together in a war of martial arts vs. magic. The fight gets interesting when Ambrose reveals what he plans on doing with the harvested energy.
In addition to writing new stories, I will also be editing old ones. The next one I edit is “Ascension”, a barbarian story which will eventually have a new title since the old one doesn’t fit.
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“I caught a snake one time. I skinned it and drank its blood. It’s in a better place now.”
-Braun Strowman, the Wyatt Family’s “Face of Destruction”-
Snitch
Lucas Morgan had just completed his geometry assignments for the evening and was left mentally exhausted afterwards. All the blond-haired All That Remains T-shirt-wearing teen wanted was to take a nap and forget the whole day ever happened. He kicked off his boots and plopped backwards on his comfy bed. His body was perpendicular to the bed itself, but he was so tired it didn’t matter how he slept it off.
He could have passed out right then and there if it hadn’t been for the obnoxious sound of his smart phone ringing. Technically, he could have chosen his own ring tone, but instead he had the standard buzzing that was normally associated with house phones. Lucas groaned and whined as he sat up in his bed and languidly reached over to the computer desk to answer his phone. His eyes were so fuzzy that he didn’t bother to look to see who was calling; he answered it anyways.
“Hello?”
“Good evening, sir, I’m looking for Mr. Maurice Morgan.”
“He’s not here right now.”
“I know that, but where is he? Does he have a work number I can reach him at? Maybe a cell phone number?”
Lucas’s eyebrows furrowed as he asked, “Who is this?”
“My name is Officer Ben Gilmour and I work with the Paulson City Police Department. It’s important that I get a hold of your father. And for the rest of this conversation, let me be the one who asks the questions. Now, I’ll ask you again: does Maurice Morgan have a cell phone or work number I can reach him at?”
“I don’t keep track of those things.”
Ben let out a sigh and said, “Not being very helpful today, are you, son.”
The condescending tone sent Lucas into a screaming rampage. “Why the hell should I help you with anything?! I told you I don’t know how to get a hold of him! That sort of thing is on my mom’s cell phone, but she’s not here either; she’s in the hospital!”
“Mr. Morgan, there must be something around the house that will tell you an alternative way of getting a hold of your father. You’re obviously not looking very hard, so let me make this clear to you. Either you cooperate with us or…”
Lucas’s screams were demonic at this point, “Or what?! You’re going to arrest me?! I’m not going to testify against my own dad! That would make me a snitch and a traitor to my family! Don’t ever call this number again, you piece of shit!”
Nobody would be calling that number again, because Lucas threw his cell phone against his computer desk out of frustration and shattered the screen. He breathed heavily in anger and sat back down on his bed to try and calm down. But try as he might, his intense breathing was accompanied by monstrous groans and growls.
And then the house phone rang and Lucas was pissed off once more. He growled like an ogre and stomped his way out to the kitchen to answer his house phone. The Morgan family had caller ID, but Lucas was too far into his rage to look at the screen. He answered anyways and yelled, “What?!”
It was Officer Ben Gilmour yet again. “I’m going to forgive that little outburst just a few minutes ago, but from this point on, if you screw with me again, I will come to your house and place you under arrest.”
Lucas’s angry speech was accompanied by high pitched bursts when he said, “I’m not doing anything wrong, damn it! There’s nothing illegal about not giving you information!”
“Actually, yes, there is something illegal about it. It’s called Obstruction of Justice and it holds a penalty of up to two years in prison. Two years doesn’t sound like a lot of time, but in prison, everything slows down and nobody is going to give you rest. Trust me, Mr. Morgan, you wouldn’t last five minutes in a place like that. Just do the right thing and tell me how I can get a hold of your father.”
“My dad didn’t do anything wrong either! He’s an innocent man and I’m not going to let you take him away from me!”
“That’s where I call bullshit, Mr. Morgan. We have snapshot evidence of your father murdering another police officer in cold blood. The photos suggest he took the officer’s own gun and shot him in the face. Your father is facing life imprisonment, maybe even the death penalty if there is a God in heaven.”
Lucas took a while to digest this new information with wide eyes and nervous breathing. His heart raced as he thought of his father being a cop slayer. Was it possible? Did he really know his own father? Was this all just bullshit? The teenager’s frightened energy caused his voice to soften as he said, “You’re full of shit!”
“I assure you, son, we’re not. I’d love to show you the pictures myself. In fact, I’ll show them to you when I come down to your house and arrest you for Obstruction of Justice. How does that sound?”
“Lucas! Give me the goddamn phone!” said Maurice Morgan, who was standing in the kitchen wearing a trench coat and a pissed off facial expression. The teenaged son was so emotional that he failed to hear his own father come in through the front door. His arm shivered as he handed the phone cradle to his dad. The kid was so sweaty that the phone almost fell out of his hand.
As the child became teary-eyed, Maurice wrapped an arm around him and patted him on the back for comfort. For Officer Ben Gilmour, however, there would be no comfort; only scorn. The father spoke vengefully into the phone when he said, “Listen, you sick bastard, I don’t care how much power that police badge gives you. You never talk to a teenage boy like that, especially not my son. He’s not the criminal of this household.”
A silence fell over the conversation and then Maurice said, “I am, Officer. I have nothing to hide anymore. Your snapshots proved I killed that cop. What your cute little photographs don’t say, however, is that I shot that cop because he was beating up my wife for jaywalking. So she runs a red light and gets put in the hospital by this sociopath? Where’s the justice in that?!”
Ben said, “Listen, Maurice, if you have a problem with one of our officers, then you need to go through the proper channels to make sure that officer gets his punishment. You don’t shoot a cop right in the fucking face like that!”
Maurice explosively said, “Then who will, damn it?! Who’s going to bring justice to a man whose worst punishment is a paid vacation and desk duty?! I know how your system works! Cops can get away with anything these days! Anything! Well, let me tell you something, copper! You can slap the cuffs on me all you want! Hell, I’ll wait right here for you in the comfort of my own home! But if you arrest me, then once I get a chance in court, I’m going to drag your entire department to the gates of hell with me! Not just the officer who beat my wife, but the entire goddamn department! I won’t get an ounce of sleep until each and every one of you are burning in hell!”
After a shocked silence, Ben said, “You let me know how that whole ‘gates of hell’ thing works out for you, Maurice. I hope you have the best lawyer money can buy. Good luck, buddy. You’re going to need it.” Officer Gilmour hung up and the heated conversation was over.
Maurice and Lucas were still embracing each other with the father breathing demonically and the son choking back tears of sorrow and fear. They both said, “I love you!” to each other for what would be the last time in their lives before the police came knocking on the Morgan family’s door.
He could have passed out right then and there if it hadn’t been for the obnoxious sound of his smart phone ringing. Technically, he could have chosen his own ring tone, but instead he had the standard buzzing that was normally associated with house phones. Lucas groaned and whined as he sat up in his bed and languidly reached over to the computer desk to answer his phone. His eyes were so fuzzy that he didn’t bother to look to see who was calling; he answered it anyways.
“Hello?”
“Good evening, sir, I’m looking for Mr. Maurice Morgan.”
“He’s not here right now.”
“I know that, but where is he? Does he have a work number I can reach him at? Maybe a cell phone number?”
Lucas’s eyebrows furrowed as he asked, “Who is this?”
“My name is Officer Ben Gilmour and I work with the Paulson City Police Department. It’s important that I get a hold of your father. And for the rest of this conversation, let me be the one who asks the questions. Now, I’ll ask you again: does Maurice Morgan have a cell phone or work number I can reach him at?”
“I don’t keep track of those things.”
Ben let out a sigh and said, “Not being very helpful today, are you, son.”
The condescending tone sent Lucas into a screaming rampage. “Why the hell should I help you with anything?! I told you I don’t know how to get a hold of him! That sort of thing is on my mom’s cell phone, but she’s not here either; she’s in the hospital!”
“Mr. Morgan, there must be something around the house that will tell you an alternative way of getting a hold of your father. You’re obviously not looking very hard, so let me make this clear to you. Either you cooperate with us or…”
Lucas’s screams were demonic at this point, “Or what?! You’re going to arrest me?! I’m not going to testify against my own dad! That would make me a snitch and a traitor to my family! Don’t ever call this number again, you piece of shit!”
Nobody would be calling that number again, because Lucas threw his cell phone against his computer desk out of frustration and shattered the screen. He breathed heavily in anger and sat back down on his bed to try and calm down. But try as he might, his intense breathing was accompanied by monstrous groans and growls.
And then the house phone rang and Lucas was pissed off once more. He growled like an ogre and stomped his way out to the kitchen to answer his house phone. The Morgan family had caller ID, but Lucas was too far into his rage to look at the screen. He answered anyways and yelled, “What?!”
It was Officer Ben Gilmour yet again. “I’m going to forgive that little outburst just a few minutes ago, but from this point on, if you screw with me again, I will come to your house and place you under arrest.”
Lucas’s angry speech was accompanied by high pitched bursts when he said, “I’m not doing anything wrong, damn it! There’s nothing illegal about not giving you information!”
“Actually, yes, there is something illegal about it. It’s called Obstruction of Justice and it holds a penalty of up to two years in prison. Two years doesn’t sound like a lot of time, but in prison, everything slows down and nobody is going to give you rest. Trust me, Mr. Morgan, you wouldn’t last five minutes in a place like that. Just do the right thing and tell me how I can get a hold of your father.”
“My dad didn’t do anything wrong either! He’s an innocent man and I’m not going to let you take him away from me!”
“That’s where I call bullshit, Mr. Morgan. We have snapshot evidence of your father murdering another police officer in cold blood. The photos suggest he took the officer’s own gun and shot him in the face. Your father is facing life imprisonment, maybe even the death penalty if there is a God in heaven.”
Lucas took a while to digest this new information with wide eyes and nervous breathing. His heart raced as he thought of his father being a cop slayer. Was it possible? Did he really know his own father? Was this all just bullshit? The teenager’s frightened energy caused his voice to soften as he said, “You’re full of shit!”
“I assure you, son, we’re not. I’d love to show you the pictures myself. In fact, I’ll show them to you when I come down to your house and arrest you for Obstruction of Justice. How does that sound?”
“Lucas! Give me the goddamn phone!” said Maurice Morgan, who was standing in the kitchen wearing a trench coat and a pissed off facial expression. The teenaged son was so emotional that he failed to hear his own father come in through the front door. His arm shivered as he handed the phone cradle to his dad. The kid was so sweaty that the phone almost fell out of his hand.
As the child became teary-eyed, Maurice wrapped an arm around him and patted him on the back for comfort. For Officer Ben Gilmour, however, there would be no comfort; only scorn. The father spoke vengefully into the phone when he said, “Listen, you sick bastard, I don’t care how much power that police badge gives you. You never talk to a teenage boy like that, especially not my son. He’s not the criminal of this household.”
A silence fell over the conversation and then Maurice said, “I am, Officer. I have nothing to hide anymore. Your snapshots proved I killed that cop. What your cute little photographs don’t say, however, is that I shot that cop because he was beating up my wife for jaywalking. So she runs a red light and gets put in the hospital by this sociopath? Where’s the justice in that?!”
Ben said, “Listen, Maurice, if you have a problem with one of our officers, then you need to go through the proper channels to make sure that officer gets his punishment. You don’t shoot a cop right in the fucking face like that!”
Maurice explosively said, “Then who will, damn it?! Who’s going to bring justice to a man whose worst punishment is a paid vacation and desk duty?! I know how your system works! Cops can get away with anything these days! Anything! Well, let me tell you something, copper! You can slap the cuffs on me all you want! Hell, I’ll wait right here for you in the comfort of my own home! But if you arrest me, then once I get a chance in court, I’m going to drag your entire department to the gates of hell with me! Not just the officer who beat my wife, but the entire goddamn department! I won’t get an ounce of sleep until each and every one of you are burning in hell!”
After a shocked silence, Ben said, “You let me know how that whole ‘gates of hell’ thing works out for you, Maurice. I hope you have the best lawyer money can buy. Good luck, buddy. You’re going to need it.” Officer Gilmour hung up and the heated conversation was over.
Maurice and Lucas were still embracing each other with the father breathing demonically and the son choking back tears of sorrow and fear. They both said, “I love you!” to each other for what would be the last time in their lives before the police came knocking on the Morgan family’s door.
September 20, 2015
WWE Night of Champions: Charlotte vs. Nikki Bella
MATCH: Charlotte vs. Nikki Bella for the latter’s Divas Championship, which she could have lost also by disqualification or count-out
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: Night of Champions
YEAR: 2015
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Pass
For the longest time, the divas division of the WWE has been in murky waters. It has been plagued with short matches performed by smoking hot supermodels who fight more like cats than real wrestlers. If a WWE fan wanted to watch women’s wrestling that was actually entertaining, he or she had to get a subscription to the WWE Network and watch NXT. That all changed in a heartbeat one night. Almost a full year had passed since Nikki Bella won the Divas Championship against AJ Lee at Survivor Series in 2014 in a twenty-second disaster. Nikki, her twin sister Brie, and Alicia Fox all got together and danced in the middle of the ring thinking they had complete reign over the divas division.
And then Stephanie McMahon’s “Queendom” music played and out came the iron-fisted queen of WWE herself. She cut a promo about how female athletes all around the world were getting recognition for being just as good or even better than their male counterpart, whether it’s Ronda Rousey in the UFC or Carli Lloyd in soccer. Stephanie believed the WWE should be a part of that women’s revolution as well. So what did she do? She called three NXT divas up to the main roster: Charlotte, Becky Lynch, and Sasha Banks. Not just NXT divas, but badass battlers who could break a supermodel in half with just one punch.
And then the Divas Revolution was underway. The matches were longer, the women got better storylines, they got time in the ring to cut promos, and the matches were actually fun-to-watch wrestling competitions instead of just boring catfights. Despite this adrenaline shot to the heart of the divas division, there were still critics out there who thought pushing all of these women to the top was a waste of time. WWE Hall of Famer Greg “The Hammer” Valentine gave the most disgusting quote of the year when he said if he was in charge of the WWE, he would fire all of the divas and make them work in strip bars. I’m still waiting for Ronda Rousey to put this asshole in a shoulder lock and rip his goddamn arm out. If I have to wait forever, then damn it, I’ll wait forever.
At WWE Night of Champions in the year 2015, the critics would have duct tape on their mouths forever. Charlotte had just earned a chance to face Nikki Bella at this event for the latter’s Divas Championship. With her father Ric Flair and the NXT staff’s training, Charlotte could accomplish anything she wanted to. She was tall, lean, athletic, and she could beat the crap out of anybody put in front of her. She once out-wrestled Natalya for the vacant NXT Title. Natalya was trained in wrestling and jujitsu in the infamous Hart Dungeon, so getting a hard-fought victory over her in a classic back-and-forth war is saying something. Now Charlotte looks to do the same with Nikki Bella.
Before this match started, Nikki Bella was being written off by fans across the world as a supermodel with a middle school mentality who got an easy path to success by beating other girls just as “weak” as her. When the match actually started, she showed how much of a vicious wrestler she could be. Nikki’s entire game plan throughout the match was to not just attack Charlotte’s left leg, but also maul it, destroy it, and cripple it.
And damn, did Nikki deliver on that game plan. She suplexed Charlotte into the ropes and turnbuckles with the victim’s knee landing right on those hard structures. And while Charlotte was sitting on the ring apron hoping to recover, Nikki grabbed her injured leg and threw her to the concrete floor in a hard-hitting move known as the Dragon Screw. To add insult to injury, Nikki applied Ric Flair’s patented submission hold, the Figure Four Leg Lock, across the steel ring post with Charlotte’s legs bound and twisted in ways they’re not supposed to bend. And then the champion applied more pressure on the leg by twisting it backwards in a Single-Leg Boston Crab. And then more suplexes into the ropes and corners. And then a shoulder tackle to the back of the leg.
The relentless assault took a huge toll on Charlotte’s mobility. She was so badly in pain that she couldn’t even walk straight, let alone run off the ropes for a decent clothesline. My niece Reina watched this match with me and though she wasn’t in it, she still had aches and pains going through her own body while she was empathizing with Charlotte. If competing in this match cripples Charlotte, then the viewers at home and at the Houston, Texas arena would leave in wheelchairs. That’s how torturous this match looked on TV.
Which is why it’s so rewarding for the underdog Charlotte to come back from this endless pain and pull off a big move that will win her the Divas Championship. As Nikki dove off the top rope for another shoulder tackle, she got a spear tackle of her own right to the gut compliments of the challenger for her title. And then Charlotte did the unthinkable. Even with her severely battered left leg, she applied not only her father’s Figure Four Leg Lock to Nikki, but also bridged backwards to make it The Figure Eight. She held this position for as long as she painstakingly could and Nikki Bella eventually tapped out to lose the championship, ending her reign at 300-plus days.
Overcoming adversity is something women have had to do not just in sports, but in life in general. They had to take beatings just to earn the right to vote in America, they had to live as pariahs just to have the right to divorce their husbands, they’re being shot at for wanting feminine healthcare, and even today in this somewhat liberalized culture, women still have to fight for recognition in this world.
After seeing Charlotte win a hard-fought match for her first WWE Divas Championship in which the referee almost stopped it due to injury, I only have one thing left to say to Greg Valentine and everyone else who thinks that a woman’s place is in the kitchen. Would you really trust a red-hot warrior like Charlotte or Ronda Rousey with an iron skillet in one hand and a bread knife in the other? You want a woman to cook and clean for you? Okay. She can cook you with a flame thrower and clean the evidence of your existence off the floors so that the police don‘t suspect a thing. How does that sound?
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: Night of Champions
YEAR: 2015
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Pass
For the longest time, the divas division of the WWE has been in murky waters. It has been plagued with short matches performed by smoking hot supermodels who fight more like cats than real wrestlers. If a WWE fan wanted to watch women’s wrestling that was actually entertaining, he or she had to get a subscription to the WWE Network and watch NXT. That all changed in a heartbeat one night. Almost a full year had passed since Nikki Bella won the Divas Championship against AJ Lee at Survivor Series in 2014 in a twenty-second disaster. Nikki, her twin sister Brie, and Alicia Fox all got together and danced in the middle of the ring thinking they had complete reign over the divas division.
And then Stephanie McMahon’s “Queendom” music played and out came the iron-fisted queen of WWE herself. She cut a promo about how female athletes all around the world were getting recognition for being just as good or even better than their male counterpart, whether it’s Ronda Rousey in the UFC or Carli Lloyd in soccer. Stephanie believed the WWE should be a part of that women’s revolution as well. So what did she do? She called three NXT divas up to the main roster: Charlotte, Becky Lynch, and Sasha Banks. Not just NXT divas, but badass battlers who could break a supermodel in half with just one punch.
And then the Divas Revolution was underway. The matches were longer, the women got better storylines, they got time in the ring to cut promos, and the matches were actually fun-to-watch wrestling competitions instead of just boring catfights. Despite this adrenaline shot to the heart of the divas division, there were still critics out there who thought pushing all of these women to the top was a waste of time. WWE Hall of Famer Greg “The Hammer” Valentine gave the most disgusting quote of the year when he said if he was in charge of the WWE, he would fire all of the divas and make them work in strip bars. I’m still waiting for Ronda Rousey to put this asshole in a shoulder lock and rip his goddamn arm out. If I have to wait forever, then damn it, I’ll wait forever.
At WWE Night of Champions in the year 2015, the critics would have duct tape on their mouths forever. Charlotte had just earned a chance to face Nikki Bella at this event for the latter’s Divas Championship. With her father Ric Flair and the NXT staff’s training, Charlotte could accomplish anything she wanted to. She was tall, lean, athletic, and she could beat the crap out of anybody put in front of her. She once out-wrestled Natalya for the vacant NXT Title. Natalya was trained in wrestling and jujitsu in the infamous Hart Dungeon, so getting a hard-fought victory over her in a classic back-and-forth war is saying something. Now Charlotte looks to do the same with Nikki Bella.
Before this match started, Nikki Bella was being written off by fans across the world as a supermodel with a middle school mentality who got an easy path to success by beating other girls just as “weak” as her. When the match actually started, she showed how much of a vicious wrestler she could be. Nikki’s entire game plan throughout the match was to not just attack Charlotte’s left leg, but also maul it, destroy it, and cripple it.
And damn, did Nikki deliver on that game plan. She suplexed Charlotte into the ropes and turnbuckles with the victim’s knee landing right on those hard structures. And while Charlotte was sitting on the ring apron hoping to recover, Nikki grabbed her injured leg and threw her to the concrete floor in a hard-hitting move known as the Dragon Screw. To add insult to injury, Nikki applied Ric Flair’s patented submission hold, the Figure Four Leg Lock, across the steel ring post with Charlotte’s legs bound and twisted in ways they’re not supposed to bend. And then the champion applied more pressure on the leg by twisting it backwards in a Single-Leg Boston Crab. And then more suplexes into the ropes and corners. And then a shoulder tackle to the back of the leg.
The relentless assault took a huge toll on Charlotte’s mobility. She was so badly in pain that she couldn’t even walk straight, let alone run off the ropes for a decent clothesline. My niece Reina watched this match with me and though she wasn’t in it, she still had aches and pains going through her own body while she was empathizing with Charlotte. If competing in this match cripples Charlotte, then the viewers at home and at the Houston, Texas arena would leave in wheelchairs. That’s how torturous this match looked on TV.
Which is why it’s so rewarding for the underdog Charlotte to come back from this endless pain and pull off a big move that will win her the Divas Championship. As Nikki dove off the top rope for another shoulder tackle, she got a spear tackle of her own right to the gut compliments of the challenger for her title. And then Charlotte did the unthinkable. Even with her severely battered left leg, she applied not only her father’s Figure Four Leg Lock to Nikki, but also bridged backwards to make it The Figure Eight. She held this position for as long as she painstakingly could and Nikki Bella eventually tapped out to lose the championship, ending her reign at 300-plus days.
Overcoming adversity is something women have had to do not just in sports, but in life in general. They had to take beatings just to earn the right to vote in America, they had to live as pariahs just to have the right to divorce their husbands, they’re being shot at for wanting feminine healthcare, and even today in this somewhat liberalized culture, women still have to fight for recognition in this world.
After seeing Charlotte win a hard-fought match for her first WWE Divas Championship in which the referee almost stopped it due to injury, I only have one thing left to say to Greg Valentine and everyone else who thinks that a woman’s place is in the kitchen. Would you really trust a red-hot warrior like Charlotte or Ronda Rousey with an iron skillet in one hand and a bread knife in the other? You want a woman to cook and clean for you? Okay. She can cook you with a flame thrower and clean the evidence of your existence off the floors so that the police don‘t suspect a thing. How does that sound?
Where's Susie?
CHORUS 1
Where’s Susie? X4
Where’s Susie? X4
I need a hundred million bucks
If I don’t get it, I’ll scream like fuck
Where’s Susie? X4
Where’s Susie? X4
VERSE 1
Let’s make one thing perfectly clear
You won’t find Susie around here
I know you hold her dear and near
I know you have your greatest fears
But I’ve never been mister four-one-one
I’m not the man who will get this done
Ask me one more time and I’ll explode
Look elsewhere for your final hope
CHORUS 2
Where’s Susie? X4
Where’s Susie? X4
I need a place to put my penis
We’ll do it where no one will see us
Where’s Susie? X4
Where’s Susie? X4
VERSE 2
The smartest of smart phones continues to ring
Yet I don’t know a single goddamn thing
You can ask your questions under a heated light
You’ll still get nothing on this cold autumn night
Way to go, Dick Tracy, or should I say Vic Mackey?
Probably the latter with the way you still ask me
You haunt the internet with a schizophrenic passion
Isn’t this the time to be responsible for your actions?
CHORUS 3
Where’s Susie? X4
Where’s Susie? X4
I need a ride to planet Mars
Let’s take a trip in your rocket car
We can lose ourselves to foo-foo music
When it comes to gas, we can always abuse it
VERSE 3
Looking for Susie is like asking, “Where’s Waldo?”
You’re acting like it’s an answer we all know
If you’re so fucking scared about your little friend
Type up an Amber Alert and hit the link to send
Sherlock Holmes should be your new nickname
Yet all of your questions still remain the same
“Where’s Susie? Where’s Susie? Where’s Susie? Where’s Susie?”
Somewhere in the babble, you started to lose me
CHORUS 4
Where’s Susie? X4
Where’s Susie? X4
SHUT THE FUCK UP!!
Where’s Susie? X4
Where’s Susie? X4
I need a hundred million bucks
If I don’t get it, I’ll scream like fuck
Where’s Susie? X4
Where’s Susie? X4
VERSE 1
Let’s make one thing perfectly clear
You won’t find Susie around here
I know you hold her dear and near
I know you have your greatest fears
But I’ve never been mister four-one-one
I’m not the man who will get this done
Ask me one more time and I’ll explode
Look elsewhere for your final hope
CHORUS 2
Where’s Susie? X4
Where’s Susie? X4
I need a place to put my penis
We’ll do it where no one will see us
Where’s Susie? X4
Where’s Susie? X4
VERSE 2
The smartest of smart phones continues to ring
Yet I don’t know a single goddamn thing
You can ask your questions under a heated light
You’ll still get nothing on this cold autumn night
Way to go, Dick Tracy, or should I say Vic Mackey?
Probably the latter with the way you still ask me
You haunt the internet with a schizophrenic passion
Isn’t this the time to be responsible for your actions?
CHORUS 3
Where’s Susie? X4
Where’s Susie? X4
I need a ride to planet Mars
Let’s take a trip in your rocket car
We can lose ourselves to foo-foo music
When it comes to gas, we can always abuse it
VERSE 3
Looking for Susie is like asking, “Where’s Waldo?”
You’re acting like it’s an answer we all know
If you’re so fucking scared about your little friend
Type up an Amber Alert and hit the link to send
Sherlock Holmes should be your new nickname
Yet all of your questions still remain the same
“Where’s Susie? Where’s Susie? Where’s Susie? Where’s Susie?”
Somewhere in the babble, you started to lose me
CHORUS 4
Where’s Susie? X4
Where’s Susie? X4
SHUT THE FUCK UP!!
Underdog
VERSE 1
Nothing in this life was ever handed to me
Except for Uncle Sam’s wad of hush money
“Stay on the sidelines, don’t get yourself hurt
Don’t get mud on your shoes or blood on your shirt
The workplace has nothing for you at this time
In social development, you’re ten years behind”
Underdog has always been my middle name
Would you trust me with fortune and fame?
CHORUS
The lower tier is for those with tears
Stemming from their greatest fears
It may take months, it may take years
To get the underdog on out of here
VERSE 2
2.75 or the 666?
To me it’s all just stones and sticks
62 or is it all about you?
Are those childish insults really true?
99-percent and barely paying rent
For an underdog driven and hell-bent
Knock me down as many times as you’d like
Because I’ll always get back on my bike
CHORUS
The lower tier is for those with tears
Stemming from their greatest fears
It may take months, it may take years
To get the underdog on out of here
VERSE 3
You’re a nonbeliever in the overachiever
You blame the poor and label us whores
Do you know what it’s like to be underrated?
To become the background so gray and faded?
Everything I have I earned in spades
I don’t measure success on how much I’m paid
I don’t measure my love on orgasmic trances
I take control by exploiting my chances
HOOK
Everybody has their own opinion
It doesn’t mean I’ll become your minion
I know I’ll make it one of these days
My future is another conquerable maze
CHORUS
The lower tier is for those with tears
Stemming from their greatest fears
It may take months, it may take years
To get the underdog on out of here
Nothing in this life was ever handed to me
Except for Uncle Sam’s wad of hush money
“Stay on the sidelines, don’t get yourself hurt
Don’t get mud on your shoes or blood on your shirt
The workplace has nothing for you at this time
In social development, you’re ten years behind”
Underdog has always been my middle name
Would you trust me with fortune and fame?
CHORUS
The lower tier is for those with tears
Stemming from their greatest fears
It may take months, it may take years
To get the underdog on out of here
VERSE 2
2.75 or the 666?
To me it’s all just stones and sticks
62 or is it all about you?
Are those childish insults really true?
99-percent and barely paying rent
For an underdog driven and hell-bent
Knock me down as many times as you’d like
Because I’ll always get back on my bike
CHORUS
The lower tier is for those with tears
Stemming from their greatest fears
It may take months, it may take years
To get the underdog on out of here
VERSE 3
You’re a nonbeliever in the overachiever
You blame the poor and label us whores
Do you know what it’s like to be underrated?
To become the background so gray and faded?
Everything I have I earned in spades
I don’t measure success on how much I’m paid
I don’t measure my love on orgasmic trances
I take control by exploiting my chances
HOOK
Everybody has their own opinion
It doesn’t mean I’ll become your minion
I know I’ll make it one of these days
My future is another conquerable maze
CHORUS
The lower tier is for those with tears
Stemming from their greatest fears
It may take months, it may take years
To get the underdog on out of here
