Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 14

Torger Manson

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THE BASICS
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Name: Torger Manson
Nicknames: Big T

Gender: Cisgender Male
Age: 36
Birth Date: 464
Birth Place: Devon Bay
Currently Living In: Atwood Castle
Species: Human
Ethnicity / Race: White
Citizenship: Atwood Queendom
Religion / Beliefs: Right-Winger

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FAMILY
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Father: Dagger Manson
Age: Dead
Relationship: Neglect

Mother: Ginger Manson
Age: Dead
Relationship: Manipulative

Step-Sister: Shelly Atwood
Age: 40
Relationship: Obedience

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PHYSICAL FEATURES:
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Height: 7’3
Weight: 350 lbs.
Frame / Build: Tall and Muscular
Hair length: Upper back
Hair color: Black
Eye shape: Wide
Eye color: Hazel
Complexion: Pale
Face size (broad, narrow, etc.): Gaunt
Voice type: Husky
Foot size: 21 Men’s
Tattoo(s): Cutlass on his chest
Scar(s): Bruised and calloused hands from cage fighting
Other notable accessories: Beard

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SOCIO / ECONOMIC / POLITICAL
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Political Affiliation: Right-Wing
Economic Class: Rich
Social Class: Nobility
Occupation: Bodyguard
Income: Rich
Residence: Atwood Castle
Transportation: Feet

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INTERESTS
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Favorite Food(s): Steak
Favorite Sport(s): Bodybuilding
Favorite Book(s): Doesn’t read
Favorite Show(s): TV hasn’t been invented yet
Favorite Music: War drums
Favorite Color(s): Black, brown, and gray
Clothing Style / Preferences: Brown leather pants and green bandolier
Hobbies: Weightlifting, cooking, and fur upholstering
Role Model(s): Shelly Atwood
Likes: Getting laid, beating people up, eating meat, drinking beer
Dislikes: Romance novels, vegetarians, shaving, being dominated (by men)

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PERSONALITY
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Good Qualities / Trait(s): Intimidation, commands respect, business-minded
Vices / Negative Trait(s): Simping, overbearingly harsh, clunky
Strengths: Muscular, tough, rarely needs help in combat
Weaknesses: Too proud to admit defeat, generational trauma, mixes business with pleasure
Habits / Idiosyncrasies / Quirks: Folded arms and death stare, knuckle cracking
Phobia / Fears: Being viewed as weak, being dominated by men, being punished for insubordination

Select one personality type below that best describes your character:

PROTECTORS

[X] Defender (ISFJ) – Puts the needs of others before themselves, to a point where they tend to give more than they receive. Quiet and conscientious. Modest and tends to be a spectator. They do what is expected of them without attracting attention to themselves. Sensitive to the feelings of others, and has a very good memory, especially when it comes to observing other people. Can be easily hurt. Very painstaking when it comes to detail.

Define your character’s personality based on the following aspects:

a. Physically (outward interaction with his environment, personal strengths): Intimidating
b. Psychologically (intellect, mental stability, morality): Easily pissed off
c. Spiritually (his faith, convictions): Mocks the Magetan religion for their vegetarian diets
d. Emotionally (willpower, under stressful situations, expressiveness): Wants Shelly (and beautiful women in general) to notice him
e. Socially (how others view him, how he interacts with people): He’s tender with women and violent towards men

Others things to know:

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HISTORY
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1. Describe the character’s childhood. Torger was born and bred to be a cage fighter and has had success from an early age due to his freakish size. His biggest fear back then was losing matches and pissing off his parents, who would emotionally abuse him for doing so. His parents eventually divorced and his father married into the Atwood Queendom, thus making Torger and Shelly step-siblings. Torger took his approval-seeking baggage with him into his partnership with Shelly and has been a bodyguard to her ever since.

2. Name the good incidents that have happened in the character’s life. How has this shaped his personality? Anytime he would win cage fights, his parents would celebrate with a massive steak dinner in his honor.

3. Name bad experiences that have happened in the character’s life. How has this shaped his personality? Anytime he would lose, his mother would berate him to the point of tears while his neglectful father blindly agreed with his mother.

4. What is the character doing when first introduced? What are his goals at this point? He’s kidnapping an elven woman to sell into sex slavery, but is interrupted by Windham. He ends up kidnapping Windham instead. His goal is to keep the business going and generally keep Shelly happy.

4a. Do these goals change at any point in the story? Friction develops between him and Shelly, so his goal now is to do damage control. He eventually wants to retire and run his own cage fighting league.

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STORY DEVELOPMENT:
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CHARACTER ARCHETYPE: (Put an X on all applicable boxes)

[] Addict (Conspicuous Consumer, Glutton, Workaholic–see also Gambler)
[] Advocate (Attorney, Defender, Legislator, Lobbyist, Environmentalist)
[] Alchemist (Wizard, Magician, Scientist, Inventor–see also Visionary)
[] Angel (Fairy Godmother/Godfather)
[] Antagonist (Opposing View, not necessarily the Evil Bad — see also Villain)
[] Anti-Hero
[] Artist (Artisan, Craftsperson, Sculptor, Weaver)
[X] Athlete (Olympian)
[] Avenger (Avenging Angel, Savior, Messiah)
[] Beggar (Homeless person/ Indigent)
[X] Bully (Coward)
[] Catalyst
[] Child (Orphan, Wounded, Magical/Innocent, Nature, Divine, Puer/Puella Eternis, or Eternal Boy/Girl)
[] Clown (Court Jester, Fool, Dummling)
[] Companion (Friend, Sidekick, Right Arm, Consort)
[] Damsel (Princess)
[X] Destroyer (Attila, Mad Scientist, Serial Killer, Spoiler)
[] Detective (Spy, Double Agent, Sleuth, Snoop, Sherlock Holmes, Private Investigator, Profiler–see also Warrior/Crime Fighter)
[] Dilettante (Amateur)
[X] Don Juan (Casanova, Gigolo, Seducer, Sex Addict)
[] Engineer (Architect, Builder, Schemer)
[] Exorcist (Shaman)
[] Father (Patriarch, Progenitor)
[] Femme Fatale (Black Widow, Flirt, Siren, Circe, Seductress, Enchantress)
[] Gambler
[] God (Adonis, see also Hero)
[] Gossip (see also Networker)
[] Guide (Guru, Sage, Crone, Wise Woman, Spiritual Master, Evangelist, Preacher)
[] Healer (Wounded Healer, Intuitive Healer, Caregiver, Nurse, Therapist, Analyst, Counselor)
[] Hedonist (Bon Vivant, Chef, Gourmet, Gourmand, Sybarite–see also Mystic)
[] Hermit (see also Wise old Man)
[] Hero/Heroine (see also Knight, Warrior)
[] Judge (Critic, Examiner, Mediator, Arbitrator)
[] King (Emperor, Ruler, Leader, Chief — see also Politician)
[] Knight in Shining Armor
[] Liberator
[] Lover
[] Martyr
[] Mediator (Ambassador, Diplomat, Go-Between)
[] Mentor (Master, Counselor, Tutor)
[] Messiah (Redeemer, Savior)
[] Midas/Miser
[] Monk/Nun (Celibate)
[] Mother (Matriarch, Mother Nature)
[] Mystic (Renunciate, Anchorite, Hermit)
[] Networker (Messenger, Herald, Courier, Journalist, Communicator)
[] Pioneer (Explorer, Settler, Pilgrim, Innovator)
[] Poet
[] Politician (see also King)
[] Priest (Priestess, Minister, Rabbi, Evangelist)
[] Prince
[] Prostitute
[] Queen (Empress)
[] Rebel (Anarchist, Revolutionary, Political Protester, Nonconformist, Pirate)
[] Rescuer
[] Saboteur
[] Samaritan
[] Scribe (Copyist, Secretary, Accountant–see also Journalist)
[] Seeker (Wanderer, Vagabond, Nomad)
[X] Servant (Indentured Servant)
[] Shape-shifter (Spell-caster–see also Trickster)
[] Slave
[] Spectre (Ghost / Apparition with Unresolved issues)
[] Storyteller (Minstrel, Narrator)
[] Student / Scholar (Disciple, Devotee, Follower, Apprentice)
[] Teacher (Instructor, see also Mentor)
[] Thief (Swindler, Con Artist, Pickpocket, Burglar, Robin Hood)
[] Threshold Guardian
[] Trickster (Puck, Provocateur)
[] Turncoat
[] Vampire
[] Victim
[X] Villain / Shadow (Big Bad of the story; see also Antagonist)
[] Virgin (see also Celibate)
[] Visionary (Dreamer, Prophet, Seer–see also Guide, Alchemist)
[X] Warrior (Soldier, Crime Fighter, Amazon, Mercenary, Soldier of Fortune, Gunslinger, Samurai)
[] Wise old Man (see also Hermit)

1. What are the motivations for the character’s actions? Approval and praise for being a “manly man” and getting the job done

2. What are the character’s goals / ambition / dreams? Like I said, retire and run his own cage fighting organization

3. What external conflicts would you wish for the character to overcome? Enslave as many elves as possible so that he can earn enough to make his dreams come true

3a. What are the obstacles in the character’s path that might make this difficult? Being hindered by Shelly’s leadership. Also, he can’t take on every elf by himself.

4. What inner conflicts would you wish for the character to overcome? Shutting up his mother’s head voice by constantly being the best at what he does.

4a. What are the obstacles in the character’s path that might make this difficult? Head voices don’t shut up; they just keep talking and talking and talking.

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AUTHOR’S NOTES / MISCELLANY
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Character theme song: “Killpop” by Slipknot

Celebrity / IRL lookalike: a taller version of Drew McIntyre

McLean Wolf V Can't Fight

Sorry, ladies, gentlemen, and non-binaries: the road to hell is closed for repairs. So what do we do with all of these good intentions? We make a D&D character who has the best of them, but belly-flops at the thought of executing them. And thus we have a level one human mage created in the late 1990’s named McLean Wolf V. His name was so badass that there had to be five generations of those motherfuckers. Unfortunately, McLean was so bad at fighting that it was amazing there was one generation at all. Never mind abortion rights, because killing off the first generation would have been sufficient birth control for a fifth-generation character that turned out to be a drive-by abortion in the end. You see…how do I put this as delicately as McLean’s fragile bones? The man couldn’t fight worth a shit.

And it turns out, that’s how the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons rules designed mages to begin with. They start out with four hit points. Four! You know what that means? It means there isn’t a constitution modifier in hell that will keep him from dying from a fucking paper cut. Mages can’t wear heavy armor and they can’t use heavy weapons. McLean of course had neither of those things. He had a wizard’s robe, a knife, and a bola sling. That’s. About. It. You’d think with all of my experience playing Final Fantasy games I would have figured out a long time ago that wizard-type characters were going to be piss-poor fighters who couldn’t be self-sufficient if they tried. Tellah from Final Fantasy IV can throw all the lightning bolts he wants, but if an imp so much as pokes him with his short sword, he’s on the ground sucking his thumb like a bitch. In the very first Final Fantasy game, white mages and black mages are the first party members that monsters go after, because they’re more fragile than Lego sets. Ever wonder why bullies pick on smaller kids? Because if they picked on hulking body builders, the police would need the bullies’ dental records to identify them afterwards.

So…I’ve got McLean Wolf V ready to go for a campaign. What he lacks in fighting prowess, he makes up for in magic…provided that he studies his spells every fucking night like he’s cramming for the SAT’s. And once he exhausts his spells, he has to study them again…and again…for hours upon hours…Well, guess what, McLean? Your enemies aren’t going to give you hours and hours to prepare for them. If a barroom brawler wants to pound you into coffee grounds, he’s not going to wait for you to study your fireball spells. He’s going to beat the shit out of you weather you’re ready or not. Schoolyard bullies don’t wait for their victims to complete karate training. Terrorists don’t wait for their victims to learn how to use firearms. Nobody’s going to wait for McLean to get his nose out of his books. In fact, forget the footman’s mace, you could just take his Stephen King-sized doorstop and beat him to death with it. It would only take one hit and he’d go from lying on the ground to lying IN the ground.

And because McLean couldn’t do a damn thing on his own, my brother invited his friends Nathan and Chris to come play with us. They could wield all the battleaxes and long swords they wanted to. I, on the other hand, had to throw fireballs, lightning bolts, and magic missiles like they were substitutes for a gatling gun. And if you ever needed an indication of how forgetful of a memoirist I am (which is a lot like being a mage who can’t fight), I don’t even remember what quest we were doing or why we banded together. All I knew was that midway through the game, I wanted to tear up my character sheet and never see McLean Wolf V ever again. James, my DM brother, wasn’t having any of that nonsense. He said that if I did that, he would make my eighth level paladin Charles Goodhorn die of natural causes…even though he was only twenty-five years old. He’s not even old enough to use his bastard sword as a walking cane and already my brother wants to hold him hostage so that I’ll keep playing as a mage made of glass. I guess he was trying to motivate me to try new things since I was so accustomed to playing warrior characters. Either that or it was the 1990’s and we were constantly at each other’s throats due to the inevitability of problematic brotherhoods.

Well…the campaign continued and Chris, Nathan, and I found ourselves in the middle of a cleared forest getting our shit pushed in by orcs and goblins. Chris and Nathan’s warrior characters slashed and hacked their way through the frontlines while I was in the background preparing for a spell. This was my chance to save their lives and prove myself as a wizard. The orcs and goblins became too much to handle due to their swelling forces. Even with the heaviest equipment, Chris and Nathan couldn’t fight them all without getting swarmed. So…McLean conjured a massive fireball and rolled it onto the battlefield like a bowling ball on a snowy mountain instead of a proper bowling alley. The analogy was appropriate since the fireball indeed got bigger and bigger as it rolled along. The screams of goblins and orcs burning alive was like a Baroque symphony of beautiful music. Then came the magic missiles to take out the stragglers. And the lighting bolts to make the battlefield crispier than a bucket of KFC, though not as tasty, but probably greasy considering the monsters we were dealing with. And just like that, the battle was over and I was the hero of the day. My opinion of fragile mages hasn’t changed, but I had more fun playing them as I got older. Truth is, they’re better in groups than on their own, not unlike D&D itself. Tellah lived as long as he did because the dark knight turned paladin named Cecil protected him. Black mages are always accompanied by hulking fighters turned knights and thieves turned ninjas.

Teamwork is the name of the game. But the D&D party that wins together serves prison sentences together. It wouldn’t be a James Haines-Temons D&D campaign if it didn’t involve incarceration of some kind. At this point, we should change the name of the game from D&D to Shawshank Redemption. While none of our characters had rock hammers to dig us out or posters of Raquel Welch to cover up our schemes, McLean was allowed to keep his books. Prison libraries are a thing, not unlike The Shawshank Redemption. But why in the hell would you allow a wizard capable of throwing avalanche fireballs to have access to books? That’s his source of power! You wouldn’t give Chris and Nathan their weapons and armor, so don’t give McLean Wolf his books! Nothing made sense in the 1990’s, but this should have been glaringly obvious. I guess we’ll never know if McLean torched the whole fucking prison, because that’s where the campaign ended for the day. We never did continue it. Bummer.

I’m not against the idea of wizards in my fantasy settings. They’re aesthetically pleasing, after all, and that’s why I enjoy fantasy so much. I could have a necromancer with skulls everywhere and poison mist surrounding him. I could have a pyromancer with fiery staves and spiky red hair that resembled his flames. I could have a sorceress who wore fancy black dresses into battle and could turn the skirts of them into circular blades while she twirls in a dance. The possibilities are as endless as my imagination. But as far as playing videogames and tabletop RPG’s goes, maybe it’s best if my wizards were accompanied by other characters. Every party has a role that needs to be filled. As much as I love the idea of an all-barbarian squad, who’s going to heal them when there’s no cleric and they get their shit pushed in after being exhausted from rage? What about an all-thief party? Who’s going to protect them without a wizard’s magic spells if they get caught? Like life itself, there’s something for everybody in this world. Nobody can do everything, but everybody can do something. A wizard can’t carry the load by himself. Otherwise, he wouldn’t need a chiropractor at this point, but an embalmer.

Roger Waters: This Is Not a Drill

Last night at the Tacoma Dome, Roger Waters continued the North American leg of his concert tour called This Is Not a Drill. It was a show full of great rock n’ roll music and left-wing politics, both of which I’m a huge fan of. It started out with a subdued version of Comfortably Numb (with thunder and lightning in the background) and went right into the antifascism with The Happiest Days of Our Lives and Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2 and 3. This show churned out the most badass version of Have a Cigar I’ve ever heard. Equally badass were songs like In the Flesh and Run Like Hell. He debuted a two-part song called The Bar, which was described as a community where people can come together and be themselves without fear of judgment. If it wasn’t for me having to wait fifteen minutes before the show to use the toilet, this night would have been completely flawless. Before driving to the Tacoma Dome, I ate at a restaurant called The Southern Kitchen and drank lots of lemonade with my meal (chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes with gravy, and macaroni and cheese). A bladder the size of a snow tire was a distant memory compared to this wonderful evening with Roger Waters, one of my all-time personal heroes. I have my dad to thank for introducing me to Pink Floyd. I have my brother James to thank for driving me to Tacoma despite his tiredness. And I have Roger Waters to thank for putting on my favorite concert of 2022. Wash THAT all away, Five Finger Death Punch! Oh, I kid Ivan Moody!

Judgment Day (Never Back Down)

When Judgment Day comes, may I never back down
May I strike the match and burn it all to the ground
Sticks and stones are going to break my bones
And then you can film it all on your new iPhone
Names will never hurt me, but we know that’s a lie
It’s the buzzing in my brain that makes me want to die
Don’t call it Cancel Culture, ‘cause it’s consequences
It’s called the First Amendment, in all of your defenses
I don’t need whole army to make my excuses
Anything they do will end up being so useless
Let the town square pull out their own hair
‘Cause rage and depravation are their arms to bear
When shit comes to an end, none of us are right
Subjectivity is why we all love to fight
We see the fucked up world through our own lenses
And then bite down on our jaws with stressful intentions
Can we come together? Why would we want to?
To be fair I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near you
All this zealot fire and not a new thing was learned
We still hate each other and the world still burned
All this strangulation over one of my songs
Keep the message simple, just tell me that I’m wrong
On any given day, I could be weak or strong
I ebb and flow so much, yet I’m floundering along
I guess I’ll go back to my comfort zone
And never have to care about those sticks and stones
Judgment Day passed and I never backed down
I’ll see you all tomorrow, we can take it back around

Give Me the Weapon

So…have any of you watched a movie or TV show where an attacker is threatening people with a weapon and someone pleads with him to hand it over?

“Give me the gun. Don’t do this.”

“It’s okay, just give me the knife. Please.”

“Give me the crowbar before you do something you’ll regret.”

It makes for some intense drama, no doubt…unless of course the weapon isn’t a basic one and has a complex name.

“Give me Excalibur. Please.”

“Give me the Dork Slayer before you hurt somebody.”

“Give me the Shadow Edge before something bad happens. I’m begging you.”

And just like that you’ve gone from dramatic tension to the audience busting up with laughter.

Bawitdaba

VERSE 1
I start my truck by breathing into a tube
I drive around high school looking for boobs
You call it statutory? I call it mandatory
Like making a poncho out of Old Glory
And wearing it while playing for my man W
And doing it again for his far-right substitute
My skeleton key can open anyone’s lock
Now get in my bed and try to love Kid Rock!

CHORUS 1
Browitdabro
The camel toe
Licky, licky, licky
Until your leggy-weggies become sticky

VERSE 2
The reason why my tickets sell for so damn cheap?
‘Cause y’all work at Wal-Mart seven days a week
I relate to the struggle in my comfortable mansion
While poverty kills like a family of Mansons
I got a tennis court and a swimming pool
And a hummer that runs on hundred dollar fuel
You can look for answers, but you know it’s a crock
Now get in my bed and try to love Kid Rock!

CHORUS 2
Blahwitdablah
The biggie bra
Jiggy, jiggy, jiggy
Until my peter becomes a stiffy

CHORUS 3
Blewwitdablew
Come on to you
Sicky, sicky, sicky
You don’t have to be so damn picky

BRIDGE
Love!
Is what I hate!
Don’t need no peace!
War!

CHORUS 4
Byewitdabye
I want to cry
Crowbar city
I’m in jail, it’s such a pity

Incubus Concert

Well…last night I went to see Incubus at the White River Amphitheater. There weren’t as many Kyles and Codys here as there were at the Five Finger Death Punch concert two weeks before. No Monster Energy Giga-Chad vibes here, just the sweetness of Incubus’s brand of rock and roll. They played a lot of songs from Morning View, which is understandable considering how almost perfect that album is. Songs like “Megalomaniac” and “Sick Sad Little World” will always get a rise out of me. But the one song that I was waiting all night for was “The Warmth”, which I’ve often used as an anthem for healing from my mental illnesses. “Don’t let the world bring you down. Not everyone here is that fucked up and cold. Remember why you came and while you’re alive, experience the warmth before you grow old.” Poetry. Absolute fucking poetry. There wasn’t a bad song on that whole show, and that goes for the openers as well. Sublime will never fully replace Bradley Nowell, may he rest in peace, but Roman Ramirez definitely helped take them into a new direction. He’s younger than me, so he’s got his whole life ahead of him. The other openers were The Aquadolls and The Naked Giants, both of which made instant believers out of me despite never hearing their music before that night. This was only my second concert since the pandemic and I’m glad I got to go out in public for my dose of serotonin. Up next: Roger Waters at the Tacoma Dome, which takes place on the 17th of September. He’s going to debut a new song called “The Bar”, which I’m excited for.

Pointless Thoughts

Stuck in the mud with these pointless thoughts
Dreaming about murder and never getting caught
Descending into madness with every bully’s word
Every kiss begins with K, how fucking absurd
Rumination is the word of this never-ending day
Getting revenge on the voices, but it’s me who pays
I could argue until my jaw is clamped down tight
Sore facial muscles with every phantom bite
A headache that won’t go away with some Advil
A demonic revelation even after I take sad pills
Kiss the girls and only make yourself cry
Take the punches and make some wishes to die
Take the insults without asking reasons why
Take the abuse until your insides are fried
Pointless thoughts, what the fuck are you doing?
Eating me alive, what the fuck are you chewing?
One mind against a meat suit full of organs
Betrayal from within, should I drink some Captain Morgan?
Is a bottle full of poison the answer to it all?
The answer is never, so I continue to brawl
If it takes forever to keep my brain in line
Then I’m putting on the gloves, your ass is mine!

En Taro Adun, Space Cadet

“Yoooooooou’re listening to 113.5 WACK FM radio, the conspiracy station. I’m your host Nikki Roman and this is Stargazer Hour episode 750. Before we get into today’s episode, I want to say a quick thank you to this station’s sponsors.

This episode is brought to you by Raid: Shadow Legends, the only fantasy online RPG where having a giant sword is considered a personality trait and being an ugly goblin is considered a character flaw.

And also by Noom, the weight loss app for your phone that uses psychology to help you reach your goals. Whether you want that smoking hot beach body or you want to trigger your anorexia, Noom has you covered like a mortician’s body bag.

And finally by Stuck in the Mud, the newest flavor of chocolate ice cream for anybody who wants to look like a Human Centipede character while eating it. It goes perfectly with that Noom app I mentioned earlier, especially if it’s bulimia you want to trigger instead of anorexia.

Now that our housekeeping is out of the way, I’d like to introduce today’s guest. He’s been itching to come onto the show for a long time, almost as much as he likes to itch his lesion-covered testicles. Please welcome alien skeptic, Bernardino Coffin. Yes, that is what it says on his driver’s license. No, it is not his incel name, but you’d be forgiven if you thought otherwise. Welcome to the show, Mr. Coffin.”

Throughout the sponsorship housekeeping, Nikki kept an eye on the polo shirt-wearing, neck-bearded man sitting across from her booth as his eyes widened in amazement at the studio doodads. In addition to sound equipment and microphones up to yin-yang, elongated purple fingers hung on the walls as well as a transmorgrant for an alien fetus and a lava lamp that looked like a xenomorph jacked off into it.

Bernardino smiled, spread his fingers in a Live Long gesture, and said, “En Taro Adun, Space Cadet. I come in peace.”

“You play one game of Starcraft and you think you can kick my ass in an alien debate? I hope that’s not the only ammunition you brought with you tonight.” Nikki adjusted her purple skull cap as well as her thick-rimmed glasses, not giving away any sign of intimidation.

Bernardino shook his head. “You honestly believe there are aliens out there? Yes, I AM arrogant enough to believe we’re the only ones in this universe. I haven’t seen jack shit ever since you started this stupid radio show. You got a telescope around here? How about a rocket ship? Seriously, where are all these aliens you keep talking about?”

“Clearly, you neglected to do your research before coming here tonight. And no, playing computer games from the 90’s doesn’t count as research and neither does watching Star Wars. George Lucas isn’t in the business of making documentaries, honey.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Nikki reached down into the fridge underneath her booth and pulled out a canister of green slime, unscrewing the top before taking a heavenly sniff of its contents. She fanned herself off for extra effect. “You know what this is?”

“Gonorrhea?”

Nikki chuckled. “No. This is xenomorph blood, my friend. Found this cutie in an abandoned government lab. You’d think they’d want to take stuff like this with them, but apparently it’s not much of a priority and that’s why I have this show. It’s got all sorts of nutrients and DNA and shit. Tastes good too. Want a drink?”

Bernardino’s face contorted in disgust. “No!”

“Fine. More for me.” Nikki downed the canister in record time, making uncomfortable glugging noises with her giant throat. “Mmm! This is some tasty shit! If you like sugary shit, give this a try sometime. Me? I don’t normally drink stuff like this because my boyfriend is a diabetic, which pretty much means I don’t get any sugar either. I do love this stuff, though. It’s like what would happen if the Protoss fucked a can of Mountain Dew.”

“P…Protoss?” Bernardino’s breathing grew heavier as he became visibly nervous. “You just said playing Starcraft didn’t count as research. Now it does?”

“Yeah, playing Starcraft doesn’t count as research. But interviewing the characters does.”

“…HUH?!” Bernardino’s eyes bulged in confusion.

“It’s amazing what you can learn about a culture if you actually sit down and talk with someone. They’ve been at war for seemingly their entire existence with the Zerg. The two races were pretty much made to do battle with each other. You don’t carry warp blades with you unless you’re prepared to slice a zergling in half with one of those. Conversely, you don’t spit acid in someone’s face unless you were trying to kill his ass.”

“…You’re goofy.”

“Really? Does that make you Donald Duck or Mickey Mouse? I really want to know, because I hear Space Mountain is lovely this time of year. If the sunlight hits the Martian mountain at just the right angle, you’ve got these lovely colors blasting everywhere like an Aurora Borealis.”

“…You’re not making a lick of sense…”

Nikki shrugged. “Are you sure you don’t want to see more alien devices? I’ve got one that goes up your…”

“Dude!” The room went uncomfortably silent. “Nobody knows what the fuck you’re talking about. You’re just rambling about stupid random nonsense that nobody cares about. You accuse me of not researching your wacky ideas? Well, guess what, Nikki? You didn’t research my name. You have no idea who I am, do you?”

Nikki remained calm and cool throughout the insanity accusations. “If I Google your name right now, am I going to find your Reddit Manosphere posts? I’m sure those Jordan Peterson quotes are going to make you sound even saner than me right now.” She huffed. “Lobsters. Give me a break. Although, if you really want to find aliens with grabber claws, you should look into studying life on Jupiter. They’ve got some whoppers over there. Yeah, I know the planet is mostly gas that no one in their right mind would want to breathe in, but…”

“Right mind?!” Bernardino clasped his hands over his own skull. “Do you hear yourself? If you would have Googled my name, you would have seen that I work in a psychiatric ward. I published a book about alien conspiracy theorists years ago.”

“Is that where you met your Reddit fans?”

Bernardino whipped out his smart phone and punched a few buttons before showing Nikki something that made her own eyes bulge out of her head in disbelief. “You see that chart? See that? That line nose-diving onto the X-axis is your listener base. You are hemorrhaging audience members! They played along with your bullshit because they like sci-fi and all that, but now you’re just unhinged. How often to people actually call into your show, Nikki?”

She was speechless as the life in her eyes slowly faded.

“How many people, Nikki?!”

Still no answer.

“That’s what I thought. I’m inclined to have you committed right now. We’ve got all sorts of ‘alien devices’ at the psych ward. You’re perfect for us!” A confident smile crept across Bernardino’s face. “Although…there is one way you can still make a living.”

“…Uh-oh…” Nikki’s tummy rumbled underneath her blue and white tie-dye hoodie.

“If this radio show doesn’t work out for you, and it won’t…then you can always sell feet pics for Bit Coin.” Bernardino’s shit-eating grin was in full-effect.

Then again, so was Nikki’s. “You know what? You’re right! With that kind of money, I can get all the insulin I want for my BF. It all makes sense now. Got your camera phone ready?”

“…I was just joking, but…”

“No, no, no, get that camera ready. I’ve got some tootsies for you!”

Bernardino nervously huffed, but nonetheless maintained his smile, got his phone’s camera ready, and said, “Okay! Whenever you’re ready!”

Just like that, Nikki slipped off her flip-flops and planted her tootsies on the booth. But instead of a supermodel moment, Bernardino’s eyes widened with fear. He shook so hard that he dropped his phone and struggled to pick it up again. They weren’t ordinary feet. They were dinosaur-like with purple scales, large soles, and bloody talons that looked like they could slice through steel like a birthday cake.

“Go on! Snap a few pictures. Make me famous!” No response, just more shaking on Bernardino Coffin’s part. “Okay, so maybe you’re not a foot guy after all. Maybe you’d like some tail instead.” Nikki pulled her black jeans down and revealed purple scaly legs with a dripping red scorpion tail attached to the top of her ass. Bernardino dropped to his own ass and slowly inched away.

Nikki pulled off her hoodie and revealed more scaly flesh as well as gigantic bat wings, also with talons and blades, thousands of them, in fact. She then ripped off her human face and revealed a hideous dragon visage underneath, with spiky teeth, a slurpy snake tongue, and glowing gold eyes. By this point in the transformation, Bernardino was pissing himself.

“You still think this is a joke, Dr. Coffin?” Nikki asked in a distorted multi-layered voice. “You still think I’m just a conspiracy theorist with lapsed fans?! Go ahead! Take as many pictures as you’d like!”

Despite the fact that his arm was vibrating like a seizure victim, Bernardino managed to snap a few nice ones on his phone. He even got out a few jittery words. “Y..yeah…yeah...that’s how you get people to believe you…don’t tell them aliens exist…show them?” Dr. Coffin shielded his face with his hairy arms.

Nikki giggled in that sinister voice of hers. “Show, don’t tell. The most basic rule of storytelling and I completely neglected it. Having a radio show instead of a podcast didn’t help matters. Nonetheless…my secret is out. There is life in other worlds. There is a whole family of creatures like me waiting in the outer reaches. My people will be invaded just like any other colonial conquest you humans are known for. But at least you got your proof and I got my ratings back…Isn’t that lovely…”

She swatted away her recording equipment and marched towards Bernardino’s convulsing body while he pleaded, “No!” over and over again. She opened the tip of her scorpion tail as well as the tips of her wing blades and spiked mouth. With all of her frightening limbs, she chomped down on Bernardino’s body and began sucking his life force dry. Every liter of blood. Every chunk of flesh. Every salty morsel of bone marrow. Every muscle fiber on a body not known for Greek god definition. But most importantly, every scream that came out of Bernardino Coffin’s mouth was every bit as delicious and heavenly as the body itself. In fact, his screams tasted like chicken, which went well with xenomorph blood, the Noom app, and Stuck in the Mud ice cream.

Once Bernardino Coffin was wiped completely clean from human existence, Nikki rubbed her tummy and said, “You know what? I could get used to eating this many humans. If they’re coming at me with gauss rifles and shit…I’m coming at them with salt and pepper! And maybe some ketchup. I like ketchup.”

My First Post-Pandemic Concert...

Well…for my first concert since the pandemic, I chose to see Five Finger Death Punch. Opening for them were Megadeth, The Hu, and Fire From the Gods. The openers were badass as to be expected. The crowd, myself included, were REALLY riled up when 5FDP did their set. My voice got scratchy as fuck after screaming the lyrics to “Burn Motherfucker” and “Jekyll and Hyde”. All this travel anxiety I had the night before was for nothing since getting to and from the venue was easy-breezy. One last note: I never actually socialized with anybody there, but if I had to take a guess at their names, there would be fifteen Kyles, twenty Codys, and at least one guy named Todd. The numbers could be slightly off, but the names are probably accurate. It was a fun night overall. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat! Unfortunately, I don’t have any physical evidence of me being there since the pictures I took were blurry as fuck. That’s a shame.