Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 40
September 9, 2019
Autumn Energy
VERSE 1
Caffeine for Halloween! Trick or fucking treat
Taurine and Baby Ruth taste so fucking sweet
Stay up all night giving everyone a big scare
Too many screams and tears? I don’t even care
Put on my mask and fill your pants full of crap
Urine and semen soaking up your entire lap
Blood-soaked neighborhood, I feel so good
Broke the zipper on my jumpsuit with oak wood
VERSE 2
Living for Thanksgiving! My sanity is slipping
Roasted turkey is for chewing and ripping
Face full of brown gravy and mashed potatoes
Wear it like a mask, I’m so fucking unstable
I’ll sleep when I’m dead from a heart attack
And my intestines slide out of my ass crack
What a way to go until the next November
My psychotic smile is all you’ll remember
VERSE 3
Sickness for Christmas! Don’t be so listless
I’ve got a naughty list for all of you bitches
Wrap up everything in sparkling paper
From the severed head to the culprit saber
October and December are one in the same
Covered in blood, sweat, and dirty shame
Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight
We’re gathered here today to get it right
BRIDGE
New Years Day is on its merry way
Broken resolutions are the price you pay
Valentine’s gives you a reason to whine
About the lost love and lack of sunshine
St. Patrick’s is just a reason to get drunk
Vomit on yourself like the spray of a skunk
Fourth of July is nothing but a damn lie
Annoying fireworks blasting in the sky
VERSE 4
Why wait until the fall to enjoy it all?
If anyone wants to argue, let them brawl
Take them out with a chainsaw slash
Leave them on the curb with the trash
Or you can carve them like a turkey
Chew them up until your chest’s hurting
Wrap them like a gift for the undertaker
See you next autumn, you dip shit haters!
Caffeine for Halloween! Trick or fucking treat
Taurine and Baby Ruth taste so fucking sweet
Stay up all night giving everyone a big scare
Too many screams and tears? I don’t even care
Put on my mask and fill your pants full of crap
Urine and semen soaking up your entire lap
Blood-soaked neighborhood, I feel so good
Broke the zipper on my jumpsuit with oak wood
VERSE 2
Living for Thanksgiving! My sanity is slipping
Roasted turkey is for chewing and ripping
Face full of brown gravy and mashed potatoes
Wear it like a mask, I’m so fucking unstable
I’ll sleep when I’m dead from a heart attack
And my intestines slide out of my ass crack
What a way to go until the next November
My psychotic smile is all you’ll remember
VERSE 3
Sickness for Christmas! Don’t be so listless
I’ve got a naughty list for all of you bitches
Wrap up everything in sparkling paper
From the severed head to the culprit saber
October and December are one in the same
Covered in blood, sweat, and dirty shame
Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight
We’re gathered here today to get it right
BRIDGE
New Years Day is on its merry way
Broken resolutions are the price you pay
Valentine’s gives you a reason to whine
About the lost love and lack of sunshine
St. Patrick’s is just a reason to get drunk
Vomit on yourself like the spray of a skunk
Fourth of July is nothing but a damn lie
Annoying fireworks blasting in the sky
VERSE 4
Why wait until the fall to enjoy it all?
If anyone wants to argue, let them brawl
Take them out with a chainsaw slash
Leave them on the curb with the trash
Or you can carve them like a turkey
Chew them up until your chest’s hurting
Wrap them like a gift for the undertaker
See you next autumn, you dip shit haters!
September 4, 2019
Holding On Forever
VERSE 1
Like a butterfly with its wings ripped off
I can’t forget the pain that’s been wrought
I can carry my baggage for years and years
Sleep comfortably with subconscious fears
Even during moments of quiet and peace
I’m thinking of ways to bleed the creeps
If only I had my very own time machine
Could show my enemies what pain means
CHORUS 1
Holding on forever
Is my only endeavor
If I let go I will fall
Lucky if I can crawl
VERSE 2
Like a concert full of drunk ass punks
My mind doesn’t want to shut its ass up
The tiniest prick of a sewing needle
Is how a battleaxe’s chop must feel
Insults of the lowest common denominator
Feel like I’m trapped with a dominator
I carry that shit for the longest time
If only I could commit the ultimate crime
CHORUS 2
Holding on forever
Ties I cannot sever
If I let go I will drop
Nightmare will not stop
VERSE 3
Like a strongman lifting a refrigerator
I can carry heavy shit forever and later
I remember every troll and every hater
Drinking their blood is what I will savor
Chewing their flesh, dinner and a show
It doesn’t make much sense, I know
You’re always on the outside looking in
Where every evil thought of mine is a sin
CHORUS 3
Holding on forever
Using trauma as a tether
If I let go I will splat
Break my fucking back
Holding on forever
Let go I will never
Nobody will pick me up
Expect me to be tough
Like a butterfly with its wings ripped off
I can’t forget the pain that’s been wrought
I can carry my baggage for years and years
Sleep comfortably with subconscious fears
Even during moments of quiet and peace
I’m thinking of ways to bleed the creeps
If only I had my very own time machine
Could show my enemies what pain means
CHORUS 1
Holding on forever
Is my only endeavor
If I let go I will fall
Lucky if I can crawl
VERSE 2
Like a concert full of drunk ass punks
My mind doesn’t want to shut its ass up
The tiniest prick of a sewing needle
Is how a battleaxe’s chop must feel
Insults of the lowest common denominator
Feel like I’m trapped with a dominator
I carry that shit for the longest time
If only I could commit the ultimate crime
CHORUS 2
Holding on forever
Ties I cannot sever
If I let go I will drop
Nightmare will not stop
VERSE 3
Like a strongman lifting a refrigerator
I can carry heavy shit forever and later
I remember every troll and every hater
Drinking their blood is what I will savor
Chewing their flesh, dinner and a show
It doesn’t make much sense, I know
You’re always on the outside looking in
Where every evil thought of mine is a sin
CHORUS 3
Holding on forever
Using trauma as a tether
If I let go I will splat
Break my fucking back
Holding on forever
Let go I will never
Nobody will pick me up
Expect me to be tough
September 2, 2019
Balls to the Wall
Shane Herman’s sweat-covered T-shirt was glued to his body. His basketball shorts were drenched in ball soup. His Nikes and socks were probably going to smell worse than a skunk’s asshole once he finally got them off at home. His thinning brown hair stuck up everywhere like porcupine needles. His heartbeats were deafening. His mouth reeked of acid. His lungs burned. All Shane wanted to do was collapse on the floor mat and sleep the rest of the day into oblivion.
The roar of the crowd nor the lovely TV hostess’s bombastic voice could keep him more than semi-conscious. He didn’t even look her in the eye, just doubled over and sucked on air-conditioned TV studio oxygen.
The blond, cocktail dress-wearing hostess enthusiastically said into the hard camera, “Welcome back, everyone, to the toughest athletic competition on television…”
“Balls to the Wall!” shouted the audience.
“I said the toughest athletic competition on television!”
“BALLS TO THE WALL!”
“Much better! I’m Morgan Burch and thank you all for joining us this half-hour. Our guest this afternoon, Shane Herman, made history today, but not in the way he would have liked.”
“Oh, fuck off,” said Shane before spitting onto the mat.
Ignoring him, Morgan said, “That’s right, ladies and gentlemen: Mr. Herman has officially taken the longest time to complete our obstacle courses at eight minutes a piece. That means he has only two minutes remaining to complete the final challenge…or else!”
Wiping the sweat off his forehead with his equally soaked arm, Shane stood up straight and said, “Listen, you crazy bitch…” He took a few more deep breaths. “I’m done with this shit. I’m fucking exhausted. I just want to go home and fall asleep on my bed with my girlfriend.”
“Well, it’s funny you should mention that, because…well…you’re not competing for five thousand dollars anymore,” said Morgan with a passive-aggressive tone and a wink to the hard camera. “We here at Balls to the Wall decided to give you a little more…incentive. Direct your attention over to the far corner of the studio, Shane.”
Slowly the wall flipped horizontally and the secrets it revealed to the audience had them gasping in hokey outrage. On the left side of the revolving platform was Ambrose Kaider, an intergalactic bounty hunter with his own TV show on the Pursuit network, a spiked Mohawk, more metal armor than he knew how to carry, and a big fucking plasma rifle with an itchy trigger finger. On the right side of the platform? The love of Shane’s life Georgia Cushing, shackled, ball gagged, and wearing Princess Leia’s metal bikini from Return of the Jedi.
Ambrose’s menacing stare as he smoked a cigar along with Georgia’s muffled pleas had Shane’s adrenaline pumping and his eyes bulging. “Let her go! You can’t do this! This shit’s illegal!”
“Correction, Mr. Herman: it WAS illegal until you signed a Hold Harmless agreement as a condition of competing on Balls to the Wall,” explained Morgan. She placed a hand on Shane’s shoulder and seductively scratched his back. “Remember, Mr. Herman: you have only two minutes to complete the final obstacle course. And if you don’t, Ambrose is going to turn your girlfriend’s head into a blood bomb. But…there’s always a but…the silver lining to all of this is…” She leaned into his ear. “You’ll have one extra hole to fuck! Are you ready, Mr. Herman?” She punctuated that last sentence by grabbing Shane’s ass.
Despite the obvious sexual harassment, Shane’s newly acquired sniper sight was locked onto Ambrose’s ugly mug. He had that mile-long stare that said, “Don’t fuck with my woman” without actually using words. Without giving Morgan the benefit of eye contact, he said, “You’re damn right I’m ready.” He then clocked Morgan in the face and sent her into darkness.
With the overhead Jumbo Tron counting down the obligatory two minutes and the audience booing him for his knockout punch, Shane’s nerves went into overdrive. He ignored all of his aches and sweats as he blitzed down the track on his way to the final obstacle course.
He flew off the diving board and grabbed a hold of the trapeze. His hands were so sweaty that he instantly let go and landed into a pool of scalding red water. The screams pouring out of Shane’s mouth had the audience laughing, Ambrose grinning, and Georgia screaming through her gag as she struggled in her chains. The fake bubbling lava had lit a fire under his ass, almost quite literally. He high-kneed it out of the pool and dashed towards the next obstacle.
Shane’s wobbly legs did a piss-poor job of balancing his body across a high beam, which was suspended above a pit full of scorpion-like alien creatures. As soon as he hit his nuts on the metal beam, the scorpions scrambled underneath him, clicked their claws, and came green liquid out of their tails. Shane held on for dear life while simultaneously doubling over in agonizing pain. Slowly he pulled himself across the metal beam. When he finally made it to the other side, he didn’t have the strength to pick himself up and hung upside down over the pit. The Martian scorpions drooled and came some more.
The overhead clock reached the one minute mark and Georgia’s screams overpowered those of the ravenous audience. Ambrose snapped, “Shut up, bitch!” before smacking her ass.
Another burst of adrenaline rushed through Shane Herman’s veins. He clenched his teeth, reached down for a handful of scorpions, and sat up before throwing the creatures out into the audience. He flipped them off and spit on the ground before continuing the course.
His balls were aching so badly that Shane coughed up some blood during his last hoorah. Black visions took over his mind and he was ready to fall asleep right there. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that Snickers bar before the show, he said in his mind. His blood coughs turned into a full-on vomiting session while the overhead clock reached the thirty second mark. He had one more obstacle to clear: a platform jump. He wanted to get up and rescue his girlfriend from a cruel and arguably illegal fate. “How far will I go for the girl of my dreams?” he mumbled to nobody. And then…”Clearly, I have my limits.”
Shane spun around and landed flat on his back in a puddle of sickness. Not even Georgia’s banshee screams could snap him out of his laziness. Not even the booing crowd could awaken him from this living nightmare. Not even the buzzer sounding could jolt him into action. Not even the sound of a plasma rifle discharging could…wait a minute…
Georgia emitted one final scream that caused Shane to tightly close his eyes and the audience to gasp in mock horror. He failed her. He wasn’t the superman he professed to be when he signed up for this reality show. He simply just gave up when it got too inconvenient. However…
“Today’s your lucky day, you dumb bitch. You’re free to go,” said Ambrose before the sounds of chains snapping echoed in Shane’s ears. “Go on back to your man…if you can call him that.”
It was illegal after all. The whole thing was a sick and twisted motivation technique. Even when the pressure mounted, Shane gave up and the audience couldn’t love him for it. Neither could Georgia as she stood over Shane’s prone body with angry tears in her eyes.
“How could you?” she asked while wiping her eyes with her arm. “That monster could have killed me! That woman grabbed you! And you just…let it happen?! How could you just quit like that?!”
Spitting out a small chunk of blood-covered vomit, Shane said, “Fuck this superman shit. I’m not a goddamn athlete. I never was. If you hadn’t spent all of our money on trips to the beauty salon, I wouldn’t have to torture myself for five thousand dollars. No woman is worth the pain I went through today.”
“The pain YOU went through?! Excuse me?! I’m in a metal bikini! I had a ball gag in my mouth, you idiot! I could have died today!”
“I could have died too!”
Shane and Georgia gazed at each other with sad, puffy eyes. They set the bar too high for each other. They both fucked up. And now it was time to part ways.
“I’m sorry, Shane…it’s over.” Georgia wiped away snot with her fingers and took off from the scene, leaving her now ex-boyfriend to fend for himself.
He held his hands over his face to unleash tears of his own when suddenly, Ambrose came over with his plasma rifle and said, “Cheer up, quitter. You haven’t given up on life completely. You probably should considering how high the hospital bill will be. Plus, I’m sure Morgan Burch is going to sue your ass for punching her in the face. With a beaten up body like yours, that’s a debt you’ll never work off. You still want to quit? I’ve got one in the chamber for you, for real this time. What do you say?”
Staring down the barrel of the plasma rifle, Shane nodded at Ambrose and said, “Go for it.” It wasn’t even a hard decision at this point. He would have welcomed it even before beginning the final obstacle course. So tired…so exhausted…Whoever said, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” obviously had Shane Herman in mind.
The roar of the crowd nor the lovely TV hostess’s bombastic voice could keep him more than semi-conscious. He didn’t even look her in the eye, just doubled over and sucked on air-conditioned TV studio oxygen.
The blond, cocktail dress-wearing hostess enthusiastically said into the hard camera, “Welcome back, everyone, to the toughest athletic competition on television…”
“Balls to the Wall!” shouted the audience.
“I said the toughest athletic competition on television!”
“BALLS TO THE WALL!”
“Much better! I’m Morgan Burch and thank you all for joining us this half-hour. Our guest this afternoon, Shane Herman, made history today, but not in the way he would have liked.”
“Oh, fuck off,” said Shane before spitting onto the mat.
Ignoring him, Morgan said, “That’s right, ladies and gentlemen: Mr. Herman has officially taken the longest time to complete our obstacle courses at eight minutes a piece. That means he has only two minutes remaining to complete the final challenge…or else!”
Wiping the sweat off his forehead with his equally soaked arm, Shane stood up straight and said, “Listen, you crazy bitch…” He took a few more deep breaths. “I’m done with this shit. I’m fucking exhausted. I just want to go home and fall asleep on my bed with my girlfriend.”
“Well, it’s funny you should mention that, because…well…you’re not competing for five thousand dollars anymore,” said Morgan with a passive-aggressive tone and a wink to the hard camera. “We here at Balls to the Wall decided to give you a little more…incentive. Direct your attention over to the far corner of the studio, Shane.”
Slowly the wall flipped horizontally and the secrets it revealed to the audience had them gasping in hokey outrage. On the left side of the revolving platform was Ambrose Kaider, an intergalactic bounty hunter with his own TV show on the Pursuit network, a spiked Mohawk, more metal armor than he knew how to carry, and a big fucking plasma rifle with an itchy trigger finger. On the right side of the platform? The love of Shane’s life Georgia Cushing, shackled, ball gagged, and wearing Princess Leia’s metal bikini from Return of the Jedi.
Ambrose’s menacing stare as he smoked a cigar along with Georgia’s muffled pleas had Shane’s adrenaline pumping and his eyes bulging. “Let her go! You can’t do this! This shit’s illegal!”
“Correction, Mr. Herman: it WAS illegal until you signed a Hold Harmless agreement as a condition of competing on Balls to the Wall,” explained Morgan. She placed a hand on Shane’s shoulder and seductively scratched his back. “Remember, Mr. Herman: you have only two minutes to complete the final obstacle course. And if you don’t, Ambrose is going to turn your girlfriend’s head into a blood bomb. But…there’s always a but…the silver lining to all of this is…” She leaned into his ear. “You’ll have one extra hole to fuck! Are you ready, Mr. Herman?” She punctuated that last sentence by grabbing Shane’s ass.
Despite the obvious sexual harassment, Shane’s newly acquired sniper sight was locked onto Ambrose’s ugly mug. He had that mile-long stare that said, “Don’t fuck with my woman” without actually using words. Without giving Morgan the benefit of eye contact, he said, “You’re damn right I’m ready.” He then clocked Morgan in the face and sent her into darkness.
With the overhead Jumbo Tron counting down the obligatory two minutes and the audience booing him for his knockout punch, Shane’s nerves went into overdrive. He ignored all of his aches and sweats as he blitzed down the track on his way to the final obstacle course.
He flew off the diving board and grabbed a hold of the trapeze. His hands were so sweaty that he instantly let go and landed into a pool of scalding red water. The screams pouring out of Shane’s mouth had the audience laughing, Ambrose grinning, and Georgia screaming through her gag as she struggled in her chains. The fake bubbling lava had lit a fire under his ass, almost quite literally. He high-kneed it out of the pool and dashed towards the next obstacle.
Shane’s wobbly legs did a piss-poor job of balancing his body across a high beam, which was suspended above a pit full of scorpion-like alien creatures. As soon as he hit his nuts on the metal beam, the scorpions scrambled underneath him, clicked their claws, and came green liquid out of their tails. Shane held on for dear life while simultaneously doubling over in agonizing pain. Slowly he pulled himself across the metal beam. When he finally made it to the other side, he didn’t have the strength to pick himself up and hung upside down over the pit. The Martian scorpions drooled and came some more.
The overhead clock reached the one minute mark and Georgia’s screams overpowered those of the ravenous audience. Ambrose snapped, “Shut up, bitch!” before smacking her ass.
Another burst of adrenaline rushed through Shane Herman’s veins. He clenched his teeth, reached down for a handful of scorpions, and sat up before throwing the creatures out into the audience. He flipped them off and spit on the ground before continuing the course.
His balls were aching so badly that Shane coughed up some blood during his last hoorah. Black visions took over his mind and he was ready to fall asleep right there. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that Snickers bar before the show, he said in his mind. His blood coughs turned into a full-on vomiting session while the overhead clock reached the thirty second mark. He had one more obstacle to clear: a platform jump. He wanted to get up and rescue his girlfriend from a cruel and arguably illegal fate. “How far will I go for the girl of my dreams?” he mumbled to nobody. And then…”Clearly, I have my limits.”
Shane spun around and landed flat on his back in a puddle of sickness. Not even Georgia’s banshee screams could snap him out of his laziness. Not even the booing crowd could awaken him from this living nightmare. Not even the buzzer sounding could jolt him into action. Not even the sound of a plasma rifle discharging could…wait a minute…
Georgia emitted one final scream that caused Shane to tightly close his eyes and the audience to gasp in mock horror. He failed her. He wasn’t the superman he professed to be when he signed up for this reality show. He simply just gave up when it got too inconvenient. However…
“Today’s your lucky day, you dumb bitch. You’re free to go,” said Ambrose before the sounds of chains snapping echoed in Shane’s ears. “Go on back to your man…if you can call him that.”
It was illegal after all. The whole thing was a sick and twisted motivation technique. Even when the pressure mounted, Shane gave up and the audience couldn’t love him for it. Neither could Georgia as she stood over Shane’s prone body with angry tears in her eyes.
“How could you?” she asked while wiping her eyes with her arm. “That monster could have killed me! That woman grabbed you! And you just…let it happen?! How could you just quit like that?!”
Spitting out a small chunk of blood-covered vomit, Shane said, “Fuck this superman shit. I’m not a goddamn athlete. I never was. If you hadn’t spent all of our money on trips to the beauty salon, I wouldn’t have to torture myself for five thousand dollars. No woman is worth the pain I went through today.”
“The pain YOU went through?! Excuse me?! I’m in a metal bikini! I had a ball gag in my mouth, you idiot! I could have died today!”
“I could have died too!”
Shane and Georgia gazed at each other with sad, puffy eyes. They set the bar too high for each other. They both fucked up. And now it was time to part ways.
“I’m sorry, Shane…it’s over.” Georgia wiped away snot with her fingers and took off from the scene, leaving her now ex-boyfriend to fend for himself.
He held his hands over his face to unleash tears of his own when suddenly, Ambrose came over with his plasma rifle and said, “Cheer up, quitter. You haven’t given up on life completely. You probably should considering how high the hospital bill will be. Plus, I’m sure Morgan Burch is going to sue your ass for punching her in the face. With a beaten up body like yours, that’s a debt you’ll never work off. You still want to quit? I’ve got one in the chamber for you, for real this time. What do you say?”
Staring down the barrel of the plasma rifle, Shane nodded at Ambrose and said, “Go for it.” It wasn’t even a hard decision at this point. He would have welcomed it even before beginning the final obstacle course. So tired…so exhausted…Whoever said, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” obviously had Shane Herman in mind.
Steroid Smoothie
VERSE 1
Bench a thousand pounds like it’s nothing
Scream like you’re on the edge of coming
Squat a million pounds like a so-called beast
Fifty reps, maybe a hundred at the least
When Joe Six-Pack breaks his damn back
You blame everything on people who’re fat
Then you inject your juice by the liter
Strut around in a too tight wife-beater
CHORUS 1
Steroid smoothie!
It’s the key to your success
Steroid smoothie!
Puff your bitch tits chest
VERSE 2
Muscles so big you can’t fit through the door
Isn’t this what you pick on fat people for?
You’re a douchey white guy who tries too hard
One of these days, your ass can go back to lard
A lethal injection of your favorite PED’s
You think you’re more explosive than TNT
If you’re talking about your liver and heart
Congratulations, you’ve got yourself a head start
CHORUS 2
Steroid smoothie!
Gargantuan muscles, Tic-Tac balls
Steroid smoothie!
Two-inch penis, heart attack trust fall
VERSE 3
Looking good on your Instagram page
You should nickname yourself Roy Rage
You’re an inspiration to only yourself
Who cares if you put your body through hell?
I’d rather eat a steak than make the mistake
Of injecting juice and watching my limbs break
You’re not a fitness guru, you’re a piece of shit
Sit on a Shake Weight and then go for a spin
CHORUS 3
Steroid smoothie!
You’re faker than the president’s hair
Steroid smoothie!
Look into your empty soul if you dare
Steroid smoothie!
Your career is based on shallow lies
Steroid smoothie!
Excuse me while I wolf on these fries
Bench a thousand pounds like it’s nothing
Scream like you’re on the edge of coming
Squat a million pounds like a so-called beast
Fifty reps, maybe a hundred at the least
When Joe Six-Pack breaks his damn back
You blame everything on people who’re fat
Then you inject your juice by the liter
Strut around in a too tight wife-beater
CHORUS 1
Steroid smoothie!
It’s the key to your success
Steroid smoothie!
Puff your bitch tits chest
VERSE 2
Muscles so big you can’t fit through the door
Isn’t this what you pick on fat people for?
You’re a douchey white guy who tries too hard
One of these days, your ass can go back to lard
A lethal injection of your favorite PED’s
You think you’re more explosive than TNT
If you’re talking about your liver and heart
Congratulations, you’ve got yourself a head start
CHORUS 2
Steroid smoothie!
Gargantuan muscles, Tic-Tac balls
Steroid smoothie!
Two-inch penis, heart attack trust fall
VERSE 3
Looking good on your Instagram page
You should nickname yourself Roy Rage
You’re an inspiration to only yourself
Who cares if you put your body through hell?
I’d rather eat a steak than make the mistake
Of injecting juice and watching my limbs break
You’re not a fitness guru, you’re a piece of shit
Sit on a Shake Weight and then go for a spin
CHORUS 3
Steroid smoothie!
You’re faker than the president’s hair
Steroid smoothie!
Look into your empty soul if you dare
Steroid smoothie!
Your career is based on shallow lies
Steroid smoothie!
Excuse me while I wolf on these fries
Pain
OPENING LINE
I’m not going to sit here and pretend it doesn’t hurt just so I can make you feel comfortable.
VERSE 1
Why should I be ashamed to talk about what’s hurting inside?
Because male genitals are supposed to be symbol of pride?
If you dig into my corners, darkness is all that you’ll find
Going to catch me like an assassin sneaking up from behind
You could get away with murder if you were in my math class
You could giggle in my ear and put your hand upon my ass
You could take away my ability to focus on the simple tasks
How many polynomials was I supposed to fucking add?
CHORUS 1
Pain! Pain! It’s never really over!
Growing up to have brand new owners!
Pain! Pain! It’s never really fair!
When you attract laughter and wicked stares!
VERSE 2
Why should I be ashamed to dump my problems onto the web?
Because all of this bullshit has somehow already been said?
So much support coming from all over the fucking world, huh?
Yet it still seems appropriate to crawl in bed and curl up
Jealousy and envy are just more feelings for the back burner
Rejection is for suckers who refuse to be fast learners
Charisma is for those who were born with the genetic code
For staying cool when life makes your head want to explode
CHORUS 2
Pain! Pain! It’s never really just!
The suffering and agony were all just a bust!
Pain! Pain! It’s never really explained!
Comes at me full force like a runaway train!
CHORUS 3
Pain! Pain! It’s not just for the weak!
It’s even for the supermen and super freaks!
Pain! Pain! It’s not just for the teens!
But every motherfucker who loves to bleed!
Pain! Pain! It’s not just for the crippled!
Spreads across the land like an earthquake ripple!
Pain! Pain! Let’s talk about our pain!
Before we become another suicide stain!
Pain! Pain! Pain! Pain!
I’m not going to sit here and pretend it doesn’t hurt just so I can make you feel comfortable.
VERSE 1
Why should I be ashamed to talk about what’s hurting inside?
Because male genitals are supposed to be symbol of pride?
If you dig into my corners, darkness is all that you’ll find
Going to catch me like an assassin sneaking up from behind
You could get away with murder if you were in my math class
You could giggle in my ear and put your hand upon my ass
You could take away my ability to focus on the simple tasks
How many polynomials was I supposed to fucking add?
CHORUS 1
Pain! Pain! It’s never really over!
Growing up to have brand new owners!
Pain! Pain! It’s never really fair!
When you attract laughter and wicked stares!
VERSE 2
Why should I be ashamed to dump my problems onto the web?
Because all of this bullshit has somehow already been said?
So much support coming from all over the fucking world, huh?
Yet it still seems appropriate to crawl in bed and curl up
Jealousy and envy are just more feelings for the back burner
Rejection is for suckers who refuse to be fast learners
Charisma is for those who were born with the genetic code
For staying cool when life makes your head want to explode
CHORUS 2
Pain! Pain! It’s never really just!
The suffering and agony were all just a bust!
Pain! Pain! It’s never really explained!
Comes at me full force like a runaway train!
CHORUS 3
Pain! Pain! It’s not just for the weak!
It’s even for the supermen and super freaks!
Pain! Pain! It’s not just for the teens!
But every motherfucker who loves to bleed!
Pain! Pain! It’s not just for the crippled!
Spreads across the land like an earthquake ripple!
Pain! Pain! Let’s talk about our pain!
Before we become another suicide stain!
Pain! Pain! Pain! Pain!
August 31, 2019
Rusty
VERSE 1
It’s been too long since my last dance
Never gave my tired soul a single chance
To rest and unwind in the easy chair
While complaining that this isn’t fair
Fifteen hundred words sung like birds
The most drunken shit you’ve ever heard
Colored pencils on a blank white canvas
Muscled orcs swinging big fucking axes
CHORUS
Not a problem, it’s just a little rust
Blow the pages into a cloud of dust
Clear the cobwebs from my head
Thank the universe that I’m not dead
VERSE 2
Three days coming, three more going
Ran out of gas, showing signs of slowing
Can’t concentrate worth a good goddamn
Can’t be your Adderall addicted superman
A candle that burned at more than two ends
A streak of sadness growing hard to defend
The lowest of lows and the lowest of blows
Is when everyone cares, but nobody knows
CHORUS
Not a problem, it’s just a little rust
Blow the pages into a cloud of dust
Clear the cobwebs from my head
Thank the universe that I’m not dead
BRIDGE
How much more can I do today?
How many obstacles are in my way?
How many hours must I spend in bed?
To not feel like I’m the walking dead?
VERSE 3
Complaining about it doesn’t feel right
When others have a much bloodier fight
Keep my chin up and ball up my hands
I don’t expect the world to understand
I don’t expect the world to forgive me
For this rusty life that I’m truly living
I don’t expect the world to bow down
I’m tapping out in the final round
CHORUS
Not a problem, it’s just a little rust
Blow the pages into a cloud of dust
Clear the cobwebs from my head
Thank the universe that I’m not dead
It’s been too long since my last dance
Never gave my tired soul a single chance
To rest and unwind in the easy chair
While complaining that this isn’t fair
Fifteen hundred words sung like birds
The most drunken shit you’ve ever heard
Colored pencils on a blank white canvas
Muscled orcs swinging big fucking axes
CHORUS
Not a problem, it’s just a little rust
Blow the pages into a cloud of dust
Clear the cobwebs from my head
Thank the universe that I’m not dead
VERSE 2
Three days coming, three more going
Ran out of gas, showing signs of slowing
Can’t concentrate worth a good goddamn
Can’t be your Adderall addicted superman
A candle that burned at more than two ends
A streak of sadness growing hard to defend
The lowest of lows and the lowest of blows
Is when everyone cares, but nobody knows
CHORUS
Not a problem, it’s just a little rust
Blow the pages into a cloud of dust
Clear the cobwebs from my head
Thank the universe that I’m not dead
BRIDGE
How much more can I do today?
How many obstacles are in my way?
How many hours must I spend in bed?
To not feel like I’m the walking dead?
VERSE 3
Complaining about it doesn’t feel right
When others have a much bloodier fight
Keep my chin up and ball up my hands
I don’t expect the world to understand
I don’t expect the world to forgive me
For this rusty life that I’m truly living
I don’t expect the world to bow down
I’m tapping out in the final round
CHORUS
Not a problem, it’s just a little rust
Blow the pages into a cloud of dust
Clear the cobwebs from my head
Thank the universe that I’m not dead
Emilio & Marigold Suspended
***EMILIO & MARIGOLD SUSPENDED***
The deadline for submitting final drafts to Hollow Hills’s anthology “The Tales of the Siblings Not-So-Grim” is today, August 31, 2019. I’m sorry to say that Emilio & Marigold will not be able to make that deadline. Even after all of the rounds of editing it has been through, it’s still not ready by final draft standards. The characters are still two-dimensional, the world isn’t descriptive enough, and the prologue I wrote for the story to increase the word count is a rough draft in and of itself.
Marie Krepps, one of the CEO’s for Hollow Hills, assured me that everything will be okay since she’s already in talks with Aurora Styles about next year’s anthology, which will be animal-themed. Even with Marie’s comfort, I still feel like I let a lot of people and myself down. I’ve never missed a deadline before today. I was always a good college student who turned in my assignments on time without asking for an extension. Must be the Impostor Syndrome creeping up on me again.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Emilio & Marigold, it’s a Jack and the Beanstalk parody that stars my former kitty Emilio instead of a young boy. Emilio passed away back in June due to renal failure and I wanted to dedicate my story to his memory. Looks like his dedication will have to wait a little longer. Remember, this project is suspended, not scrapped. Suspensions are temporary and can be lifted anytime I damn well please. Emilio & Marigold will see the light of day, just not today.
So the question now becomes, where do I go from here? Do I continue to send Emilio & Marigold to paid beta readers? Do I start thinking about editing Beautiful Monster instead? Do I keep pumping out short stories for Poison Tongue Tales 3 and American Darkness 3? Is there another story that’s on my mind? I need some way of keeping my writing sharp until Emilio’s day in the sun comes.
Luckily, I’ve found just the Good Reads group for doing that. In addition to writing short stories and poetry for the WSS, I’m also part of a group called Character Therapy, a role-playing game where characters go through, you guessed it, psychological therapy. Any guesses as to which character I chose? Any pointy-eared, green-skinned elves come to mind? Hmm…
Character Therapy allows players to create more than one character, including therapists themselves. World? Meet Jerry Frost, an art therapist with an extreme case of Impostor Syndrome and a strong passion for creative development. Will Jerry become a permanent character of mine to be used in other stories? If I develop him far enough, he very well could be. He can’t be any more confusing than Tristan Jealous, whom I’ve written a poem about back in 2018.
So here I am, a man without a country, a ship without a rudder, wondering what’s next on my agenda. I suppose I could keep pumping out micro fiction. That’s basically what chapters of a new novel would be since they meet my 1,500 word quota. I know I should be more worried about editing the first drafts I already have instead of pumping out new ones, but keeping my writing sharp is essential to my success as an author.
I haven’t always been this zealous when it comes to my writing, though. The past three days in particular have been the worst mental slog I’ve been through in recent memory. Normally when I’m going through a slog, I can at least concentrate long enough on other forms of reading and writing, like answering Face Book questions or writing two-sentence horror stories. I couldn’t even concentrate for those things. That’s how fucked up things got. This mental slog happened just as I was getting prepared to put together the final Emilio & Marigold manuscript, which wouldn’t have been accepted anyways, but it still would have been nice to get that done.
The point of this journal is to let you all know that this isn’t the end of Emilio & Marigold. It’s merely a roadblock on the way to my final goal. Emilio will be remembered. He will purr at me from beyond the Rainbow Bridge. My love bug will be immortalized one way or another. He really was a love bug. He head butted me, climbed up on my lap, slept on my chest, and purred in my ear. Just talking about him like this makes me miss him even more. Gone, but not forgotten. I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!
***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“God creates all men equal, but once they’re out of the womb, he starts playing favorites.”
-Vic Mackey from “The Shield”-
***POST-SCRIPT***
As long as I’m talking about releasing micro fiction to the public for free, here’s the next short story on my agenda. It’s called “Balls to the Wall” and it goes like this:
CHARACTERS:
1. Shane Herman, Game Show Contestant
2. Ambrose Kaider, Corpulent Space Mercenary
3. Georgia Cushing, Shane’s Girlfriend
4. Morgan Burch, Game Show Host
SYNOPSIS: Shane is competing on an obstacle course game show called “Balls to the Wall” and due to his lack of athleticism, he’s failing horribly. He’s ready to throw in the towel when Morgan introduces a new twist to this game: Ambrose is holding Georgia hostage behind one of the obstacles. If Shane doesn’t man up and complete the challenge, Ambrose will take his plasma rifle and blow Georgia’s head off. Questioning the legality of all of this is not an option since Shane signed a Hold Harmless agreement prior to the taping of the episode.
Double Dare, eat your heart out! Suck it, American Gladiators! Eat a big one, Finders Keepers! Okay, you get it by now.
The deadline for submitting final drafts to Hollow Hills’s anthology “The Tales of the Siblings Not-So-Grim” is today, August 31, 2019. I’m sorry to say that Emilio & Marigold will not be able to make that deadline. Even after all of the rounds of editing it has been through, it’s still not ready by final draft standards. The characters are still two-dimensional, the world isn’t descriptive enough, and the prologue I wrote for the story to increase the word count is a rough draft in and of itself.
Marie Krepps, one of the CEO’s for Hollow Hills, assured me that everything will be okay since she’s already in talks with Aurora Styles about next year’s anthology, which will be animal-themed. Even with Marie’s comfort, I still feel like I let a lot of people and myself down. I’ve never missed a deadline before today. I was always a good college student who turned in my assignments on time without asking for an extension. Must be the Impostor Syndrome creeping up on me again.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Emilio & Marigold, it’s a Jack and the Beanstalk parody that stars my former kitty Emilio instead of a young boy. Emilio passed away back in June due to renal failure and I wanted to dedicate my story to his memory. Looks like his dedication will have to wait a little longer. Remember, this project is suspended, not scrapped. Suspensions are temporary and can be lifted anytime I damn well please. Emilio & Marigold will see the light of day, just not today.
So the question now becomes, where do I go from here? Do I continue to send Emilio & Marigold to paid beta readers? Do I start thinking about editing Beautiful Monster instead? Do I keep pumping out short stories for Poison Tongue Tales 3 and American Darkness 3? Is there another story that’s on my mind? I need some way of keeping my writing sharp until Emilio’s day in the sun comes.
Luckily, I’ve found just the Good Reads group for doing that. In addition to writing short stories and poetry for the WSS, I’m also part of a group called Character Therapy, a role-playing game where characters go through, you guessed it, psychological therapy. Any guesses as to which character I chose? Any pointy-eared, green-skinned elves come to mind? Hmm…
Character Therapy allows players to create more than one character, including therapists themselves. World? Meet Jerry Frost, an art therapist with an extreme case of Impostor Syndrome and a strong passion for creative development. Will Jerry become a permanent character of mine to be used in other stories? If I develop him far enough, he very well could be. He can’t be any more confusing than Tristan Jealous, whom I’ve written a poem about back in 2018.
So here I am, a man without a country, a ship without a rudder, wondering what’s next on my agenda. I suppose I could keep pumping out micro fiction. That’s basically what chapters of a new novel would be since they meet my 1,500 word quota. I know I should be more worried about editing the first drafts I already have instead of pumping out new ones, but keeping my writing sharp is essential to my success as an author.
I haven’t always been this zealous when it comes to my writing, though. The past three days in particular have been the worst mental slog I’ve been through in recent memory. Normally when I’m going through a slog, I can at least concentrate long enough on other forms of reading and writing, like answering Face Book questions or writing two-sentence horror stories. I couldn’t even concentrate for those things. That’s how fucked up things got. This mental slog happened just as I was getting prepared to put together the final Emilio & Marigold manuscript, which wouldn’t have been accepted anyways, but it still would have been nice to get that done.
The point of this journal is to let you all know that this isn’t the end of Emilio & Marigold. It’s merely a roadblock on the way to my final goal. Emilio will be remembered. He will purr at me from beyond the Rainbow Bridge. My love bug will be immortalized one way or another. He really was a love bug. He head butted me, climbed up on my lap, slept on my chest, and purred in my ear. Just talking about him like this makes me miss him even more. Gone, but not forgotten. I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight!
***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“God creates all men equal, but once they’re out of the womb, he starts playing favorites.”
-Vic Mackey from “The Shield”-
***POST-SCRIPT***
As long as I’m talking about releasing micro fiction to the public for free, here’s the next short story on my agenda. It’s called “Balls to the Wall” and it goes like this:
CHARACTERS:
1. Shane Herman, Game Show Contestant
2. Ambrose Kaider, Corpulent Space Mercenary
3. Georgia Cushing, Shane’s Girlfriend
4. Morgan Burch, Game Show Host
SYNOPSIS: Shane is competing on an obstacle course game show called “Balls to the Wall” and due to his lack of athleticism, he’s failing horribly. He’s ready to throw in the towel when Morgan introduces a new twist to this game: Ambrose is holding Georgia hostage behind one of the obstacles. If Shane doesn’t man up and complete the challenge, Ambrose will take his plasma rifle and blow Georgia’s head off. Questioning the legality of all of this is not an option since Shane signed a Hold Harmless agreement prior to the taping of the episode.
Double Dare, eat your heart out! Suck it, American Gladiators! Eat a big one, Finders Keepers! Okay, you get it by now.
August 18, 2019
Armed and Devilish
“The meat supply is growing thin, my pretties. Looks like we’ll have to go back to eating our fruits and veggies,” said Tina Rabbit, watching her forest creatures licking and gnawing at various humanoid skeletons. The bones varied in shapes and sizes. Though they would be unrecognizable to the naked eye, Tina remembered them all.
A family deer licked the femur and forearm bones of a widened skeleton which once belonged to an orc, judging from its massive and rotting fangs. Squirrel children frantically ran and played between the eye sockets of an unfortunate gnome corpse. One gray wolf rolled over on its back and gnawed away at an ordinary human bone, almost crushing it between its mandibles. White rabbits played hide and seek underneath the ribcage and spinal cord of a formerly obese ogre.
All Tina could do was smile upon her furry children. She flipped her long brunette hair backwards and fiddled with her gray dress as she admired her fuzz buckets’ handiwork. “It’s been a while since we’ve had uninvited guests in our forests. I love tender ribs as much as you guys, but I love peace and quiet even more. No harm shall come to my babies or my trees.” She leaned down and stroked a wolf’s ears as it chewed on a skeletal forearm. “I love you all. Each and every one of you. Gather around for a…”
A crow’s squawking interrupted her sentence as the jittery bird of prey circled above Tina. She held out her arm and allowed the little guy to land on her wrist. “What’s wrong, my feathery friend?” she asked in her usual calm voice. “Don’t tell me we have more visitors.” The crow shook and squealed as it tried to find refuge underneath her druid’s gigantic sleeves. “It’ll be okay, little man. Mommy will take care of it.” She pointed her index finger at the rest of her friends and demanded, “Remember, don’t come swarming in until I tell you to. We lose too many furry friends that way.”
The forest creatures continued chewing and fiddling with the humanoid remains while the crow darted out from under Tina’s sleeve and flew slowly enough so that she could follow. The trees in this forest were large enough to hide the most suspicious activity from plain sight, but if there was yet another criminal deal going down in Tina’s neck of the woods, the meeting place would have to be carefully thought out. It would have to be so unobvious that…”Wait a minute…you’re kidding me…”
Tina didn’t have to walk far at all. This new business deal was happening right along the dirt path and there was already a bush for her to crouch down in. “The arrogance of these people…at least he’s got some meat on his bones,” Tina muttered to herself.
And why wouldn’t this buyer be arrogant? He towered over his seller at a whopping seven feet tall. His chiseled body looked like it had medicine balls stuffed in it. He didn’t even have to wear elaborate armor, just legless red shorts, brown leather boots, black straps across his chest and back, and a dark hood over his head that made him look like an executioner ready to chop someone’s head off. To Tina, however, he closely resembled an S&M store that blew the fuck up. She couldn’t help but smile at the same time she was pissed off at the man’s superiority complex.
The seller was a mirror image of his towering client: skinny, frail, covered in baggy robes and an oversized hood, his fingers elongated and bladed, his appearance kept quiet to those with naked eyes. It was amazing that he found the strength to hold a steel briefcase that could double as a tower shield. What wasn’t nearly as impressive was the seven foot tall gimp tossing a sack of gold coins his way and the seller nearly falling on his ass.
“Okay, you little shit,” belted the giant. “All five thousand gold pieces are in that bag. If you don’t believe me, try doing bicep curls with it. Now open the goddamn briefcase and show me what you’ve got.”
The seller gently set the money bag on the ground and twirled his hands around the metal case. “Forged in the fires of hell itself, strong enough to slay the mightiest gods, deadly enough to burn entire cities to a blanket of ashes…I give to you…” He unlocked the briefcase and unfolded what appeared to be a rusty trident. “The Cluster Fork!”
Tina giggled through her nose and had the two businessmen looking around for potential spies. She put her hand over her mouth and crouched down even lower.
The buyer swiped the trident out of the seller’s hands and swung it around with as much effort as a toothbrush. He even used the middle tip to pick his teeth and the other two tips to scratch his back. “Not bad,” he said sarcastically. “But how the hell is this supposed to be worth five thousand gold pieces! I can’t even buy a whorehouse full of slutty women with that kind of money!”
“That’s no ordinary trident, Mr. Jackhammer.”
Tina giggled again, but still managed not to attract attention her way.
Waving his hands over the rusted weapon, the seller said, “The Cluster Fork has been passed down from several generations of demonic forces. Entire wars were won with this piece of weaponry. Religions were split apart by this trident’s might. The Cluster Fork…”
Tina figured “Mr. Jackhammer” had enough of the hokey salesmanship as evidenced by the seven-footer jabbing the seller through the heart with the trident. That wasn’t where the heinous assault ended. A fiery circle formed around Mr. Jackhammer and melted not only his opponent’s corpse into ashes, but also the bushes and trees in his vicinity.
One of the trees had a crow’s nest inside. The family of scavenger birds angrily flocked around their attacker’s head and pecked at his face like their beaks were deadlier than medieval weaponry. Jackhammer put and end to the assault by grabbing all of the birds in one massive hand and crushing them into bloody feathers.
“Oh no…no, no, no…no…” Tina whispered as tears ran down her face. She tried to keep quiet as she snorted mucous up her nose, but accidentally let a scream slip when a family of grizzly bears came out of hiding and surrounded Jackhammer for a beat-down.
The giant stabbed one of the bears through the gut and slung his now fiery body around the others, reducing them to barbecued meat done a little too well. Jackhammer raised his weapon high in the air and laughed like a madman as a flaming aura danced around his already powerful body.
Tina couldn’t stop screaming at the instant horror as Jackhammer laid devilish eyes on her. He pointed the Cluster Fork at her and growled, “Ain’t so funny now, is it, bitch? Go ahead! Laugh it up! I double dog dare you! Don’t be shy!” No response, only jitters. Animals of all kinds, squirrels, wolves, deer, and birds, flocked away from the roaring inferno and all Tina could do was stand there with vibrating legs. “Answer me!” Jackhammer shouted.
She couldn’t answer, so a running deer did it for her when it bucked her on its back and carried her deep into the woods to safety. Tina’s wobbly legs made it difficult for her to stay upright during the chase and she came close to falling off several times. Jackhammer on the other hand had no problem sprinting through the woods lighting trees and shrubbery blaze. Another deer tried to kick him in the ribs, but all it got in return was a trident up the ass.
Tina shrieked and kept one hand over her eyes while the other was on her mount’s antlers. Images of her fluffy friends dying left and right in mass genocide assaulted her mind and sped up her heartbeat. Her blood grew colder and her skin dampened like a waterfall. After the deer halted and Tina stopped mumbling whiny slogans to herself, she slowly lifted her head to see that she was indeed underneath a waterfall and she wasn’t going crazy.
“You think a little bit of water is going to stop me?! I’ve seen infected pussies that were wetter than that!” barked Jackhammer with a fiery background behind him and his arms folded.
Tina slipped off the deer’s spine and backed up a few steps alongside her animal companions. She wanted to form a snappy comeback, but all that came out of her trembling lips was slobbery drivel.
“What’s the matter? Cock got your tongue?!” Jackhammer chuckled. “That’s okay. You’ll have plenty more reasons than that to be on your knees for me. I’m your majesty now! I rule over everything! Now be a good little girl and take off that sexy dress for me!” He licked his lips and caused Tina to shiver even harder than before.
She didn’t want to look her potential rapist in the eyes. She didn’t want to look at any other part of his body either. Instead her mind was pumped full of images of fiery treetops falling left and right. And then she had an idea, but her anxious tummy told her not to use her animals like that. Then again, her options were limited. It was too late for this forest. It would forever be known as a criminal hideout for shady deals. Mother Nature had been too kind to these crooks even in death. But it wasn’t too late for one more forest…
As Jackhammer cupped his ear and mockingly listened in for a response from Tina, she swallowed a lump and raised her finger in the air before casting it down upon her opponent. Swarms of squirrels and rabbits crawled all over Jackhammer’s body, leaving little rabid bite marks in their wake. Tina made a slash mark across her throat and instructed a deer to kick the trident out of Jackhammer’s hands, which it did after several long seconds of the giant snapping the necks of the little creatures.
“Damn it!” Jackhammer shouted repeatedly as he chased after the trident, which was being sucked down the stream and into the waterfall. Tina instructed the wolves to bite at his ankles while she instructed a nearby grizzly to knock down a burning tree over the distracted giant. Not only were his legs bleeding buckets, but the tree found its mark: right over the skull of the arrogant giant.
But it didn’t faze Jackhammer. It just made him smile evilly at Tina, who slowly backed up as he stalked upon her. He threatened, “I can get the trident later. I’ve already got a spear I can impale you with!” He dropped his legless shorts and exposed his ugly, mushroom-infested dong to her. Tina was so busy looking away that she plopped backwards into the water, not knowing where to go next.
“Open wide, little lady!”
She reached behind her and felt something sharp. Deer antlers! It felt so wrong to use a corpse in such a way, but when she fearlessly jammed the antlers into Jackhammer’s crotch, he bent over and howled in misery. But he ripped them out and tossed them aside like it was nothing despite the heavy bleeding. His smile grew wider and more sadistic. While deer, wolves, and bears ganged up on the seven foot savage, Tina swam away feeling like a coward.
The sounds of animal bones crunching and flesh being ripped and shredded pounded her brain and caused her to swim faster. She picked up her speed again when she heard the familiar leather boots clomping beside her. Every animal and every weapon tested against this giant failed to keep him down for long. And then…she threw something else at him. Something random. Something unexpected. And as soon as she threw this final weapon, Jackhammer’s agonizing cries were accompanied by crackles of fire.
Tina turned around and used a nearby deer’s antlers to help her out of the water. But she saw the same thing her companions did: burning flesh, blackening blood, and a once indestructible god turning into a pile of rotten meat and ashes. All because he had the Cluster Fork sticking out of his chest.
She couldn’t celebrate yet. She dashed over to him and collected his ashes in her front dress pocket before yanking the trident free. She and her animal companions outran the growing fire that consumed their home. Tina’s legs were still wobbly and she almost fell back into the water, but she was carried by a grizzly bear at the last minute. For now she could relax, but even that was impossible with all the violent imagery her mind played out for her.
Tina couldn’t even dream the hour away. A numbed out brain wouldn’t let her. Adrenaline kept her nerves ice cold. Her heart wouldn’t stop beating. She kept expecting either a fiery trident or another kind of “spear” to assault her any moment now. She watched her forest home go up in smoke. All that was left for her was this new grassy field where a significantly smaller animal army greeted her with sympathetic licks and head bumps.
“I’m sorry, my friends,” she cried. “Your home is gone. Everything we’ve worked to build is gone. Mother Nature lost. She never loses. I don’t even know if we can start over again…unless…”
Tina wiped multiple tears from her eyes and sprinkled Jackhammer’s ashes amongst the empty dirt. Multiple animal minions brought their dead loved ones into the pile as well as the bones of previous criminals who made deals in the now burning forest. They all gathered around with Tina leading them in a speech.
“You see this, everyone?” she said while choking back more tears. “The rain will come again one day. And when it does, these ashes and bodies will grow into another tree. And from that one tree, a new forest will grow. Life will begin again. But that won’t be for years to come. Mother Nature’s rebirth is always a slow one. But what shall we do for now? How shall we sustain ourselves until those years pass?”
Turned out the grass was quite delicious to the animals as they munched on it with fervor. If Mother Nature yielded these tasty results in such a short amount of time, perhaps the rebirth of the forest wouldn’t take long either. Tina smiled and fell on her back before releasing more tears to rehydrate the ground. The wolves licked her tears clean, signifying forgiveness for being used in combat so recklessly. It was their home too and they had the right to defend it. She hugged them around their necks and tried to fall asleep in her new cuddle-puddle, but to no avail.
A family deer licked the femur and forearm bones of a widened skeleton which once belonged to an orc, judging from its massive and rotting fangs. Squirrel children frantically ran and played between the eye sockets of an unfortunate gnome corpse. One gray wolf rolled over on its back and gnawed away at an ordinary human bone, almost crushing it between its mandibles. White rabbits played hide and seek underneath the ribcage and spinal cord of a formerly obese ogre.
All Tina could do was smile upon her furry children. She flipped her long brunette hair backwards and fiddled with her gray dress as she admired her fuzz buckets’ handiwork. “It’s been a while since we’ve had uninvited guests in our forests. I love tender ribs as much as you guys, but I love peace and quiet even more. No harm shall come to my babies or my trees.” She leaned down and stroked a wolf’s ears as it chewed on a skeletal forearm. “I love you all. Each and every one of you. Gather around for a…”
A crow’s squawking interrupted her sentence as the jittery bird of prey circled above Tina. She held out her arm and allowed the little guy to land on her wrist. “What’s wrong, my feathery friend?” she asked in her usual calm voice. “Don’t tell me we have more visitors.” The crow shook and squealed as it tried to find refuge underneath her druid’s gigantic sleeves. “It’ll be okay, little man. Mommy will take care of it.” She pointed her index finger at the rest of her friends and demanded, “Remember, don’t come swarming in until I tell you to. We lose too many furry friends that way.”
The forest creatures continued chewing and fiddling with the humanoid remains while the crow darted out from under Tina’s sleeve and flew slowly enough so that she could follow. The trees in this forest were large enough to hide the most suspicious activity from plain sight, but if there was yet another criminal deal going down in Tina’s neck of the woods, the meeting place would have to be carefully thought out. It would have to be so unobvious that…”Wait a minute…you’re kidding me…”
Tina didn’t have to walk far at all. This new business deal was happening right along the dirt path and there was already a bush for her to crouch down in. “The arrogance of these people…at least he’s got some meat on his bones,” Tina muttered to herself.
And why wouldn’t this buyer be arrogant? He towered over his seller at a whopping seven feet tall. His chiseled body looked like it had medicine balls stuffed in it. He didn’t even have to wear elaborate armor, just legless red shorts, brown leather boots, black straps across his chest and back, and a dark hood over his head that made him look like an executioner ready to chop someone’s head off. To Tina, however, he closely resembled an S&M store that blew the fuck up. She couldn’t help but smile at the same time she was pissed off at the man’s superiority complex.
The seller was a mirror image of his towering client: skinny, frail, covered in baggy robes and an oversized hood, his fingers elongated and bladed, his appearance kept quiet to those with naked eyes. It was amazing that he found the strength to hold a steel briefcase that could double as a tower shield. What wasn’t nearly as impressive was the seven foot tall gimp tossing a sack of gold coins his way and the seller nearly falling on his ass.
“Okay, you little shit,” belted the giant. “All five thousand gold pieces are in that bag. If you don’t believe me, try doing bicep curls with it. Now open the goddamn briefcase and show me what you’ve got.”
The seller gently set the money bag on the ground and twirled his hands around the metal case. “Forged in the fires of hell itself, strong enough to slay the mightiest gods, deadly enough to burn entire cities to a blanket of ashes…I give to you…” He unlocked the briefcase and unfolded what appeared to be a rusty trident. “The Cluster Fork!”
Tina giggled through her nose and had the two businessmen looking around for potential spies. She put her hand over her mouth and crouched down even lower.
The buyer swiped the trident out of the seller’s hands and swung it around with as much effort as a toothbrush. He even used the middle tip to pick his teeth and the other two tips to scratch his back. “Not bad,” he said sarcastically. “But how the hell is this supposed to be worth five thousand gold pieces! I can’t even buy a whorehouse full of slutty women with that kind of money!”
“That’s no ordinary trident, Mr. Jackhammer.”
Tina giggled again, but still managed not to attract attention her way.
Waving his hands over the rusted weapon, the seller said, “The Cluster Fork has been passed down from several generations of demonic forces. Entire wars were won with this piece of weaponry. Religions were split apart by this trident’s might. The Cluster Fork…”
Tina figured “Mr. Jackhammer” had enough of the hokey salesmanship as evidenced by the seven-footer jabbing the seller through the heart with the trident. That wasn’t where the heinous assault ended. A fiery circle formed around Mr. Jackhammer and melted not only his opponent’s corpse into ashes, but also the bushes and trees in his vicinity.
One of the trees had a crow’s nest inside. The family of scavenger birds angrily flocked around their attacker’s head and pecked at his face like their beaks were deadlier than medieval weaponry. Jackhammer put and end to the assault by grabbing all of the birds in one massive hand and crushing them into bloody feathers.
“Oh no…no, no, no…no…” Tina whispered as tears ran down her face. She tried to keep quiet as she snorted mucous up her nose, but accidentally let a scream slip when a family of grizzly bears came out of hiding and surrounded Jackhammer for a beat-down.
The giant stabbed one of the bears through the gut and slung his now fiery body around the others, reducing them to barbecued meat done a little too well. Jackhammer raised his weapon high in the air and laughed like a madman as a flaming aura danced around his already powerful body.
Tina couldn’t stop screaming at the instant horror as Jackhammer laid devilish eyes on her. He pointed the Cluster Fork at her and growled, “Ain’t so funny now, is it, bitch? Go ahead! Laugh it up! I double dog dare you! Don’t be shy!” No response, only jitters. Animals of all kinds, squirrels, wolves, deer, and birds, flocked away from the roaring inferno and all Tina could do was stand there with vibrating legs. “Answer me!” Jackhammer shouted.
She couldn’t answer, so a running deer did it for her when it bucked her on its back and carried her deep into the woods to safety. Tina’s wobbly legs made it difficult for her to stay upright during the chase and she came close to falling off several times. Jackhammer on the other hand had no problem sprinting through the woods lighting trees and shrubbery blaze. Another deer tried to kick him in the ribs, but all it got in return was a trident up the ass.
Tina shrieked and kept one hand over her eyes while the other was on her mount’s antlers. Images of her fluffy friends dying left and right in mass genocide assaulted her mind and sped up her heartbeat. Her blood grew colder and her skin dampened like a waterfall. After the deer halted and Tina stopped mumbling whiny slogans to herself, she slowly lifted her head to see that she was indeed underneath a waterfall and she wasn’t going crazy.
“You think a little bit of water is going to stop me?! I’ve seen infected pussies that were wetter than that!” barked Jackhammer with a fiery background behind him and his arms folded.
Tina slipped off the deer’s spine and backed up a few steps alongside her animal companions. She wanted to form a snappy comeback, but all that came out of her trembling lips was slobbery drivel.
“What’s the matter? Cock got your tongue?!” Jackhammer chuckled. “That’s okay. You’ll have plenty more reasons than that to be on your knees for me. I’m your majesty now! I rule over everything! Now be a good little girl and take off that sexy dress for me!” He licked his lips and caused Tina to shiver even harder than before.
She didn’t want to look her potential rapist in the eyes. She didn’t want to look at any other part of his body either. Instead her mind was pumped full of images of fiery treetops falling left and right. And then she had an idea, but her anxious tummy told her not to use her animals like that. Then again, her options were limited. It was too late for this forest. It would forever be known as a criminal hideout for shady deals. Mother Nature had been too kind to these crooks even in death. But it wasn’t too late for one more forest…
As Jackhammer cupped his ear and mockingly listened in for a response from Tina, she swallowed a lump and raised her finger in the air before casting it down upon her opponent. Swarms of squirrels and rabbits crawled all over Jackhammer’s body, leaving little rabid bite marks in their wake. Tina made a slash mark across her throat and instructed a deer to kick the trident out of Jackhammer’s hands, which it did after several long seconds of the giant snapping the necks of the little creatures.
“Damn it!” Jackhammer shouted repeatedly as he chased after the trident, which was being sucked down the stream and into the waterfall. Tina instructed the wolves to bite at his ankles while she instructed a nearby grizzly to knock down a burning tree over the distracted giant. Not only were his legs bleeding buckets, but the tree found its mark: right over the skull of the arrogant giant.
But it didn’t faze Jackhammer. It just made him smile evilly at Tina, who slowly backed up as he stalked upon her. He threatened, “I can get the trident later. I’ve already got a spear I can impale you with!” He dropped his legless shorts and exposed his ugly, mushroom-infested dong to her. Tina was so busy looking away that she plopped backwards into the water, not knowing where to go next.
“Open wide, little lady!”
She reached behind her and felt something sharp. Deer antlers! It felt so wrong to use a corpse in such a way, but when she fearlessly jammed the antlers into Jackhammer’s crotch, he bent over and howled in misery. But he ripped them out and tossed them aside like it was nothing despite the heavy bleeding. His smile grew wider and more sadistic. While deer, wolves, and bears ganged up on the seven foot savage, Tina swam away feeling like a coward.
The sounds of animal bones crunching and flesh being ripped and shredded pounded her brain and caused her to swim faster. She picked up her speed again when she heard the familiar leather boots clomping beside her. Every animal and every weapon tested against this giant failed to keep him down for long. And then…she threw something else at him. Something random. Something unexpected. And as soon as she threw this final weapon, Jackhammer’s agonizing cries were accompanied by crackles of fire.
Tina turned around and used a nearby deer’s antlers to help her out of the water. But she saw the same thing her companions did: burning flesh, blackening blood, and a once indestructible god turning into a pile of rotten meat and ashes. All because he had the Cluster Fork sticking out of his chest.
She couldn’t celebrate yet. She dashed over to him and collected his ashes in her front dress pocket before yanking the trident free. She and her animal companions outran the growing fire that consumed their home. Tina’s legs were still wobbly and she almost fell back into the water, but she was carried by a grizzly bear at the last minute. For now she could relax, but even that was impossible with all the violent imagery her mind played out for her.
Tina couldn’t even dream the hour away. A numbed out brain wouldn’t let her. Adrenaline kept her nerves ice cold. Her heart wouldn’t stop beating. She kept expecting either a fiery trident or another kind of “spear” to assault her any moment now. She watched her forest home go up in smoke. All that was left for her was this new grassy field where a significantly smaller animal army greeted her with sympathetic licks and head bumps.
“I’m sorry, my friends,” she cried. “Your home is gone. Everything we’ve worked to build is gone. Mother Nature lost. She never loses. I don’t even know if we can start over again…unless…”
Tina wiped multiple tears from her eyes and sprinkled Jackhammer’s ashes amongst the empty dirt. Multiple animal minions brought their dead loved ones into the pile as well as the bones of previous criminals who made deals in the now burning forest. They all gathered around with Tina leading them in a speech.
“You see this, everyone?” she said while choking back more tears. “The rain will come again one day. And when it does, these ashes and bodies will grow into another tree. And from that one tree, a new forest will grow. Life will begin again. But that won’t be for years to come. Mother Nature’s rebirth is always a slow one. But what shall we do for now? How shall we sustain ourselves until those years pass?”
Turned out the grass was quite delicious to the animals as they munched on it with fervor. If Mother Nature yielded these tasty results in such a short amount of time, perhaps the rebirth of the forest wouldn’t take long either. Tina smiled and fell on her back before releasing more tears to rehydrate the ground. The wolves licked her tears clean, signifying forgiveness for being used in combat so recklessly. It was their home too and they had the right to defend it. She hugged them around their necks and tried to fall asleep in her new cuddle-puddle, but to no avail.
August 14, 2019
Bands With Gimmicks
***BANDS WITH GIMMICKS***
I can’t remember the exact year, but Nickelback frontman Chad Kroeger once gave an interview where he poked fun at Slipknot for relying on their horror mask gimmicks too much. As much as I love listening to Nickelback, I’m going to strongly disagree with Chad on that one. Who said gimmicks have to be a bad thing? Why can’t bands have fun gimmicks AND fun music. Slipknot frontman Corey Taylor rightfully put Chad Kroeger in his place, saying he has a face like a foot among other topnotch insults. You know the meme, “What does Corey Taylor think of this?” Now you know.
But in all seriousness, what’s wrong with having a gimmick? It’s not just limited to bands, either. Pro-wrestlers have gimmicks. MMA fighters have gimmicks. Artists have gimmicks. Basically, if you take any profession and add a character quirk to it, congratulations, you’ve got one fun-loving motherfucker. A corporate suit with a gimmick? Sure, it can happen. Suppose a corporate stooge walks in the office one day wearing a Slipknot mask and blasting “People = Shit” from his smart phone. I’d want to hang out with that guy all day long!
Having a character trait of some kind doesn’t detract from the actual profession. In fact, as a writer, I encourage it in my characters. I want to write about abnormal characters with creepy face paint. I want to write about elven warriors with superhero costumes. I want to write about highway drifters who dress like Prince. If there was ever a time to talk about three-dimensional characters, a fun and goofy gimmick could be one of those many dimensions.
But let’s get back to the topic at hand, which is about musical acts who use gimmicks in their art. Chad Kroeger can be as bland and vanilla as he wants, but gimmicked bands have been around since rock and roll was even a thing. Pink Floyd could be considered a gimmick band, especially with the many trademarks surrounding their act. The putty faced masks, the floating pig, the rainbow prism, the ass judge, basically, anything from The Wall could be considered a part of Pink Floyd’s gimmick. They made an entire movie out of that album, so who says gimmicks don’t mean anything? By the way, that movie is one of my favorites of all time, not just as a musical, but as a full-fledged story about a man going absolutely bat-shit crazy.
You know who else has a gimmick to go along with their music? Ghost. Their lead singer dresses in a Pope outfit and has creepy paint all over his face. His band mates wear black robes and demonic masks. Their presentation has satanic symbols all over the stage, which reflects a lot of their lyrical content. Ghost is a fun band to listen to and see live, which I’m about to figure out for myself this coming September when they come to Seattle. Yeeeeeeee!
Any other bands with gimmicks? Babymetal has an anime gimmick. Starset has a space opera gimmick. Rob Zombie and Marilyn Manson both have horror movie and satanic gimmicks. Not only do these bands look awesome in concert, but they also produce high quality music to boot. So again, what’s wrong with a musician having a character trait? Anybody? Can anyone answer this without sounding more vanilla and ignorant than Chad Kroeger? Maybe Bill Maher would like to weigh in on this topic. Just kidding, we already know he’s a boring person!
So what kind of gimmick would you like to see in your own characters? A skull-decorated necromancer? A heavily-tattooed alien warrior? A fiendish goblin with a fiery dagger? The possibilities are as endless as your own imagination. But not all characters in your stories have to have gimmicks. They don’t have to be elaborate, especially if they’re passive side characters who don’t add a whole lot to the story. That’s okay.
But if your character drives the entire story, he’d better be interesting in some way. He doesn’t have to have pentagrams tattooed all over his pale body, but he does need to capture your reader’s attention and hold onto that motherfucker for the rest of the story. While gimmicks aren’t always necessary, they shouldn’t be shrugged off so easily by the conformists of the world. In fact, I’d dare say we need a…corrosion of conformity! See what I did there?
I know you all are waiting for me to give examples from my own writing of gimmicked characters (you totally aren’t). So here they are. Beautiful Monster’s main villainess is femme fatale with a libertarian business model and a penchant for vanilla ice cream. Beautiful Monster’s main hero is an elven warrior who worships a lion god and lashes the shit out of his opponents with a chain whip. Incelbordination’s main villain is a Matrix parody who complains about not getting laid and exacts vengeance with a machete and brainwashed followers. Incelbordination’s main hero is a dwarf with a boxing background and plenty of angry reasons to use his fists. Need more examples? Here’s one…
From 2016 to 2017, I wrote a first draft novel called Demon Axe, a chosen one narrative about a titular heavy metal band with a dark fantasy gimmick. They wear robes on stage, they wear creepy masks, they drink bubbling potions before they perform, they have satanic symbols everywhere, and the lead singer’s microphone looks like a war hatchet. This story only a shitty first draft and it’ll be a while before I take it to critiqueville, but I’m proud of it all the same. Plus, Demon Axe brings us back to the original topic of this blog entry being about musical acts. Yay!
Got any fascinating gimmicks you want to talk about? I’m all ears! I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight! Hey, there’s another gimmick right there! That sign-off phrase is from a horror anthology called Tales From the Dark Side! Nice!
***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
WOLVERINE: Aren’t you going to tell me to stay away from your girl?
CYCLOPS: If I had to do that, she wouldn’t be my girl.
WOLVERINE: Well, then I guess you’ve got nothing to worry about…Cyclops.
CYCLOPS: I bet it just burns you up inside that a boy like me had to save you. You’d better be careful. I might not be there next time. Oh, and Logan? Stay away from my girl.
-X-Men-
***POST-SCRIPT***
Yes, Wolverine and Cyclops are both gimmicked characters. They’re not only superheroes, but they’re awesome to watch on screen.
I can’t remember the exact year, but Nickelback frontman Chad Kroeger once gave an interview where he poked fun at Slipknot for relying on their horror mask gimmicks too much. As much as I love listening to Nickelback, I’m going to strongly disagree with Chad on that one. Who said gimmicks have to be a bad thing? Why can’t bands have fun gimmicks AND fun music. Slipknot frontman Corey Taylor rightfully put Chad Kroeger in his place, saying he has a face like a foot among other topnotch insults. You know the meme, “What does Corey Taylor think of this?” Now you know.
But in all seriousness, what’s wrong with having a gimmick? It’s not just limited to bands, either. Pro-wrestlers have gimmicks. MMA fighters have gimmicks. Artists have gimmicks. Basically, if you take any profession and add a character quirk to it, congratulations, you’ve got one fun-loving motherfucker. A corporate suit with a gimmick? Sure, it can happen. Suppose a corporate stooge walks in the office one day wearing a Slipknot mask and blasting “People = Shit” from his smart phone. I’d want to hang out with that guy all day long!
Having a character trait of some kind doesn’t detract from the actual profession. In fact, as a writer, I encourage it in my characters. I want to write about abnormal characters with creepy face paint. I want to write about elven warriors with superhero costumes. I want to write about highway drifters who dress like Prince. If there was ever a time to talk about three-dimensional characters, a fun and goofy gimmick could be one of those many dimensions.
But let’s get back to the topic at hand, which is about musical acts who use gimmicks in their art. Chad Kroeger can be as bland and vanilla as he wants, but gimmicked bands have been around since rock and roll was even a thing. Pink Floyd could be considered a gimmick band, especially with the many trademarks surrounding their act. The putty faced masks, the floating pig, the rainbow prism, the ass judge, basically, anything from The Wall could be considered a part of Pink Floyd’s gimmick. They made an entire movie out of that album, so who says gimmicks don’t mean anything? By the way, that movie is one of my favorites of all time, not just as a musical, but as a full-fledged story about a man going absolutely bat-shit crazy.
You know who else has a gimmick to go along with their music? Ghost. Their lead singer dresses in a Pope outfit and has creepy paint all over his face. His band mates wear black robes and demonic masks. Their presentation has satanic symbols all over the stage, which reflects a lot of their lyrical content. Ghost is a fun band to listen to and see live, which I’m about to figure out for myself this coming September when they come to Seattle. Yeeeeeeee!
Any other bands with gimmicks? Babymetal has an anime gimmick. Starset has a space opera gimmick. Rob Zombie and Marilyn Manson both have horror movie and satanic gimmicks. Not only do these bands look awesome in concert, but they also produce high quality music to boot. So again, what’s wrong with a musician having a character trait? Anybody? Can anyone answer this without sounding more vanilla and ignorant than Chad Kroeger? Maybe Bill Maher would like to weigh in on this topic. Just kidding, we already know he’s a boring person!
So what kind of gimmick would you like to see in your own characters? A skull-decorated necromancer? A heavily-tattooed alien warrior? A fiendish goblin with a fiery dagger? The possibilities are as endless as your own imagination. But not all characters in your stories have to have gimmicks. They don’t have to be elaborate, especially if they’re passive side characters who don’t add a whole lot to the story. That’s okay.
But if your character drives the entire story, he’d better be interesting in some way. He doesn’t have to have pentagrams tattooed all over his pale body, but he does need to capture your reader’s attention and hold onto that motherfucker for the rest of the story. While gimmicks aren’t always necessary, they shouldn’t be shrugged off so easily by the conformists of the world. In fact, I’d dare say we need a…corrosion of conformity! See what I did there?
I know you all are waiting for me to give examples from my own writing of gimmicked characters (you totally aren’t). So here they are. Beautiful Monster’s main villainess is femme fatale with a libertarian business model and a penchant for vanilla ice cream. Beautiful Monster’s main hero is an elven warrior who worships a lion god and lashes the shit out of his opponents with a chain whip. Incelbordination’s main villain is a Matrix parody who complains about not getting laid and exacts vengeance with a machete and brainwashed followers. Incelbordination’s main hero is a dwarf with a boxing background and plenty of angry reasons to use his fists. Need more examples? Here’s one…
From 2016 to 2017, I wrote a first draft novel called Demon Axe, a chosen one narrative about a titular heavy metal band with a dark fantasy gimmick. They wear robes on stage, they wear creepy masks, they drink bubbling potions before they perform, they have satanic symbols everywhere, and the lead singer’s microphone looks like a war hatchet. This story only a shitty first draft and it’ll be a while before I take it to critiqueville, but I’m proud of it all the same. Plus, Demon Axe brings us back to the original topic of this blog entry being about musical acts. Yay!
Got any fascinating gimmicks you want to talk about? I’m all ears! I’m Garrison Kelly! Until next time, try to enjoy the daylight! Hey, there’s another gimmick right there! That sign-off phrase is from a horror anthology called Tales From the Dark Side! Nice!
***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
WOLVERINE: Aren’t you going to tell me to stay away from your girl?
CYCLOPS: If I had to do that, she wouldn’t be my girl.
WOLVERINE: Well, then I guess you’ve got nothing to worry about…Cyclops.
CYCLOPS: I bet it just burns you up inside that a boy like me had to save you. You’d better be careful. I might not be there next time. Oh, and Logan? Stay away from my girl.
-X-Men-
***POST-SCRIPT***
Yes, Wolverine and Cyclops are both gimmicked characters. They’re not only superheroes, but they’re awesome to watch on screen.
August 9, 2019
Angel's Share
The rift between Alex Macintosh and her so-called “lord and savior” grew with every bigoted slur that came out of a preacher’s mouth. It was already a yawning chasm from an early age. Now it was a dark black hole that sucked all of the life out of her. Going to church wasn’t as fun as she remembered it being. The fairytales weren’t as fascinating. The loving spirit wasn’t as warm. Everything in this mega church full of enthusiastic worshippers revolved around money these days.
How much money could Pastor Shawn Hawkins swindle out of his followers? How much of it would actually go to the poor? How much of it would fund his vacation in Neo Hawaii? The deeper Alex dug into his bank account, the more obvious the answers became. There she was in a shadowy corner of the church tapping away on her smart phone and thumb drive. Her dark trench coat and equally dark scarf around her face made hiding in the shadows that much easier. It also helped matters that the thousands of people packing the arena were too busy praying for things they’d never get on their own.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” shouted a young man into the microphone. His voice temporarily jarred Alex out of her hack job, but ultimately she thought nothing of it and went back to work. “Put your hands together for the messenger of God himself! The angel from the heavens above! The warrior of worship! The preacher of perfection! Here he is: Pastor Shawn Hawkins!”
The raucous clapping and lurching from the congregation once again snapped Alex out of her work. They were so obnoxious with their zeal that she failed to concentrate on what was most important: getting Pastor Hawkins’s ill-gotten fortunes back into the hands of those who needed it. Just a few more bars of code…just a few more clicks…”Damn it!” she whispered to herself. She quickly covered her mouth considering where she was saying it, but still nobody paid attention to her.
As the audience clapped and some of them did back flips and cartwheels in the audience, Pastor Shawn Hawkins descended from the ceiling dressed in flowing red robes. He really was an angel from heaven with his feathery wings gently flapping and lowering him to the stage. “I’ve seen better wings on a plate of KFC,” murmured Alex as she struggled to focus on her hack job.
The raven-haired, thick-bearded Pastor yanked the microphone out of his hype man’s hand and motioned for his congregation to sit down and shut up, which they gladly did. Alex couldn’t believe the smiles on their faces, the tears in their eyes…and the dollar bills folded up in their hands. “Here we go…” she muttered.
Taking a karate stance in the center of the stage, Pastor Hawkins belted his sermon into the microphone like a heavy metal singer moonlighting as a fat-shaming fitness guru. “Sinners! All of them! Each and every damned soul outside of this church today will have no such access to the pearly gates! They choose not to come here and choose not to give their welfare money to the heavens above! They are vile! They are rotten! For every penny they pinch, they are keeping the Christian revolution from taking place! That will not happen on my watch! Can I get an amen?!”
“Amen!” said everybody not named Alex Macintosh, who still thumbed away on her smart phone, still chipping away at Shawn’s bank account.
Pointing his hairy finger out into the crowd, he shouted, “You see that?! The sinners and nonbelievers call that fanaticism, but I call it reality! God is your reality! This world we’ve created for ourselves inside this church is the only thing that’s real to us now! Forget the vegetable-munching hippies! Forget the rock and roll niggers! Forget the transgender fags! They hold no power of us!”
That last slur had Alex’s eyes watering with rage as she looked up from her screen to unleash a hellish look upon her tormentor. He couldn’t see her even as he flapped his wings and floated around the church, but she saw him with tunnel vision, so much so that she forgot to keep cracking the code. She wanted so much to rip his tongue out, but also knew that Shawn Hawkins was a martial arts expert and often used his trade to intimidate “sinners” into giving him money.
“I fly around this room today and I see heavenly beauty!” As if right on cue, congregation members grinned up at him and held out their wads of cash. “You’re not just giving me your hard-earned money. You’re buying something with your dollars. You’re buying a revolution! You’re buying paradise! You’re buying a weapon against the darkness of hell!”
Alex shook her head and got right back to work cracking the code. Pastor Hawkins’s words began to blend together in a cacophony of screaming and prejudice, so much so that Alex didn’t even notice him flapping directly above her until she saw his reflection in her screen. “Come on, damn it!” she whispered as she grew closer to cracking his password.
“Who said that?! Who in God’s good name said that in my church?!” roared Shawn. Alex dropped her phone in panic and almost shattered the screen. She crab-walked against the wall in an attempt to hide from her accuser. She even held her knees to her chest to make herself small. But there he was descending upon her, the flaps of his wings creating deafening whooshes, the anger on his reddening face palpable and tense.
“Come to me, harlot,” said Shawn as he held out his hand. Alex couldn’t. She was frozen in fear. “I said come to me, you devil’s whore!” He stomped over to her and her phone crunched beneath his army boots. The congregation stared at her with wide-eyed shock while Shawn picked up the remains of the phone and instantly deciphered what Alex was trying to do.
“It appears we have a thief in our midst, my children. Stealing is a sin! Stealing from the lord is a MORTAL SIN!” Shawn stared hellfire into Alex’s soul and she could do nothing but cower in the corner and shiver. He ripped off her scarf and revealed another “sin” to the congregation. The blond hair extensions, the white makeup, the poorly smudged blue lipstick, they all led him to one conclusion. “Transgender whore!”
Alex could feel the boos and “Whore!” chants radiating off the congregation and piercing her skin like daggers. She tried to stand up, but her legs were too wobbly and her head was swimming laps around this church. She eventually found her equilibrium by holding onto a stair railing. “Please!” she begged in a low, trembling voice. “Just let me go…I’ll never bother you again…it’s just that I…”
“Silence!” barked Shawn as he punched a hole in the wall next to her head, causing her to trip over her own quaking fear. She couldn’t even crawl down the stairs without Shawn placing his boot across her ankle. The harder he pressed, the louder she screamed. “You dare steal from a house of worship?! You dare steal from the lord almighty?! That is inexcusable! I shall send you to hell myself, you filthy whore!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, just take my flash drive and take your foot off of me!” She blindly chucked the flash drive at him hoping he would catch it. However, her heart and brain pumped her with so many chemicals that she miscalculated how hard she threw it. It bounced off of one of his feathers and exposed wiring underneath. The hacking properties of the device caused even more sparks to shoot out of what was now revealed as his mechanism. The congregation gasped in shock while Shawn’s hardened facial expression grew soft with worry. He even took his foot off of Alex’s leg.
Trying to regain her breath, Alex pointed at the fake mechanical wings and said, “You see that, everyone? He’s not even a real angel. His money isn’t being used for a Christian revolution! He fooled you all! Thou shalt not bear false witness, anyone? He tricked you all into becoming bigots! He tricked you all into giving away your money to what will eventually be his expensive vacation! If you don’t believe me, look on that flash drive! Look on whatever’s left of my phone! The more you hate people like me and the other so-called ‘fags’, the richer he becomes and the poorer you all become!”
Shawn kneeled down beside his victim and smiled at her. “Don’t you get it by now? These people don’t care about any of that. They don’t care about you. Did they care when our president said he would grab a certain part of the female anatomy? No. Did they care when a certain Supreme Court justice was accused of doing much worse to said anatomy? No. These people know who the real enemy is and who their friends really are. They want entry into heaven. They know they’re not going to get it by listening to a transgender thief whore like you!”
“Is…is this true, everyone?” asked Alex. Her answer came in the form of angry stares from the congregation, not at the one swindling them, but at the one they were told to hate. Their hatred hurt her badly. She could feel her heart racing and her mind numbing to the violence that would become of her very shortly.
Shawn slowly stalked Alex as she crawled down the staircase. As soon as she moved too fast for everyone’s comfort, the congregation and their Pastor charged after her in a screaming rage. She almost tripped over her fear again when she tried to get up, but this time she bolted out of the emergency exit and set off a blaring fire alarm. Fire sprinkles set off even more sparks on Shawn’s mechanical wings and his congregation crawled on top of him to put out the electrical storm. Alex used this distraction to dash down the street, her legs trembling and aching the whole way.
She ran until she couldn’t do so anymore. Her lungs burned, her heart exploded, and her eyes dripped with wetness as she hunched over on the street corner. “How could they not care?!” she mumbled unintelligibly. “How could they not fucking care!” She stomped her high heeled boot on the ground and broke said heel in the process. “Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
“Excuse me, Miss!” said a homeless man with sunglasses. “Can you spare me some change?”
How about that? He actually said the right gender prefix. But such a small victory was nothing to celebrate as Alex wiped away burning tears from her reddened face. “I don’t have a dime,” she confessed. After a silence hung between them, she pointed at the mega church and said, “But they do. Why don’t you go ask them yourself?” Alex walked away hoping at least one person got the message she was trying to send.
How much money could Pastor Shawn Hawkins swindle out of his followers? How much of it would actually go to the poor? How much of it would fund his vacation in Neo Hawaii? The deeper Alex dug into his bank account, the more obvious the answers became. There she was in a shadowy corner of the church tapping away on her smart phone and thumb drive. Her dark trench coat and equally dark scarf around her face made hiding in the shadows that much easier. It also helped matters that the thousands of people packing the arena were too busy praying for things they’d never get on their own.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” shouted a young man into the microphone. His voice temporarily jarred Alex out of her hack job, but ultimately she thought nothing of it and went back to work. “Put your hands together for the messenger of God himself! The angel from the heavens above! The warrior of worship! The preacher of perfection! Here he is: Pastor Shawn Hawkins!”
The raucous clapping and lurching from the congregation once again snapped Alex out of her work. They were so obnoxious with their zeal that she failed to concentrate on what was most important: getting Pastor Hawkins’s ill-gotten fortunes back into the hands of those who needed it. Just a few more bars of code…just a few more clicks…”Damn it!” she whispered to herself. She quickly covered her mouth considering where she was saying it, but still nobody paid attention to her.
As the audience clapped and some of them did back flips and cartwheels in the audience, Pastor Shawn Hawkins descended from the ceiling dressed in flowing red robes. He really was an angel from heaven with his feathery wings gently flapping and lowering him to the stage. “I’ve seen better wings on a plate of KFC,” murmured Alex as she struggled to focus on her hack job.
The raven-haired, thick-bearded Pastor yanked the microphone out of his hype man’s hand and motioned for his congregation to sit down and shut up, which they gladly did. Alex couldn’t believe the smiles on their faces, the tears in their eyes…and the dollar bills folded up in their hands. “Here we go…” she muttered.
Taking a karate stance in the center of the stage, Pastor Hawkins belted his sermon into the microphone like a heavy metal singer moonlighting as a fat-shaming fitness guru. “Sinners! All of them! Each and every damned soul outside of this church today will have no such access to the pearly gates! They choose not to come here and choose not to give their welfare money to the heavens above! They are vile! They are rotten! For every penny they pinch, they are keeping the Christian revolution from taking place! That will not happen on my watch! Can I get an amen?!”
“Amen!” said everybody not named Alex Macintosh, who still thumbed away on her smart phone, still chipping away at Shawn’s bank account.
Pointing his hairy finger out into the crowd, he shouted, “You see that?! The sinners and nonbelievers call that fanaticism, but I call it reality! God is your reality! This world we’ve created for ourselves inside this church is the only thing that’s real to us now! Forget the vegetable-munching hippies! Forget the rock and roll niggers! Forget the transgender fags! They hold no power of us!”
That last slur had Alex’s eyes watering with rage as she looked up from her screen to unleash a hellish look upon her tormentor. He couldn’t see her even as he flapped his wings and floated around the church, but she saw him with tunnel vision, so much so that she forgot to keep cracking the code. She wanted so much to rip his tongue out, but also knew that Shawn Hawkins was a martial arts expert and often used his trade to intimidate “sinners” into giving him money.
“I fly around this room today and I see heavenly beauty!” As if right on cue, congregation members grinned up at him and held out their wads of cash. “You’re not just giving me your hard-earned money. You’re buying something with your dollars. You’re buying a revolution! You’re buying paradise! You’re buying a weapon against the darkness of hell!”
Alex shook her head and got right back to work cracking the code. Pastor Hawkins’s words began to blend together in a cacophony of screaming and prejudice, so much so that Alex didn’t even notice him flapping directly above her until she saw his reflection in her screen. “Come on, damn it!” she whispered as she grew closer to cracking his password.
“Who said that?! Who in God’s good name said that in my church?!” roared Shawn. Alex dropped her phone in panic and almost shattered the screen. She crab-walked against the wall in an attempt to hide from her accuser. She even held her knees to her chest to make herself small. But there he was descending upon her, the flaps of his wings creating deafening whooshes, the anger on his reddening face palpable and tense.
“Come to me, harlot,” said Shawn as he held out his hand. Alex couldn’t. She was frozen in fear. “I said come to me, you devil’s whore!” He stomped over to her and her phone crunched beneath his army boots. The congregation stared at her with wide-eyed shock while Shawn picked up the remains of the phone and instantly deciphered what Alex was trying to do.
“It appears we have a thief in our midst, my children. Stealing is a sin! Stealing from the lord is a MORTAL SIN!” Shawn stared hellfire into Alex’s soul and she could do nothing but cower in the corner and shiver. He ripped off her scarf and revealed another “sin” to the congregation. The blond hair extensions, the white makeup, the poorly smudged blue lipstick, they all led him to one conclusion. “Transgender whore!”
Alex could feel the boos and “Whore!” chants radiating off the congregation and piercing her skin like daggers. She tried to stand up, but her legs were too wobbly and her head was swimming laps around this church. She eventually found her equilibrium by holding onto a stair railing. “Please!” she begged in a low, trembling voice. “Just let me go…I’ll never bother you again…it’s just that I…”
“Silence!” barked Shawn as he punched a hole in the wall next to her head, causing her to trip over her own quaking fear. She couldn’t even crawl down the stairs without Shawn placing his boot across her ankle. The harder he pressed, the louder she screamed. “You dare steal from a house of worship?! You dare steal from the lord almighty?! That is inexcusable! I shall send you to hell myself, you filthy whore!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, just take my flash drive and take your foot off of me!” She blindly chucked the flash drive at him hoping he would catch it. However, her heart and brain pumped her with so many chemicals that she miscalculated how hard she threw it. It bounced off of one of his feathers and exposed wiring underneath. The hacking properties of the device caused even more sparks to shoot out of what was now revealed as his mechanism. The congregation gasped in shock while Shawn’s hardened facial expression grew soft with worry. He even took his foot off of Alex’s leg.
Trying to regain her breath, Alex pointed at the fake mechanical wings and said, “You see that, everyone? He’s not even a real angel. His money isn’t being used for a Christian revolution! He fooled you all! Thou shalt not bear false witness, anyone? He tricked you all into becoming bigots! He tricked you all into giving away your money to what will eventually be his expensive vacation! If you don’t believe me, look on that flash drive! Look on whatever’s left of my phone! The more you hate people like me and the other so-called ‘fags’, the richer he becomes and the poorer you all become!”
Shawn kneeled down beside his victim and smiled at her. “Don’t you get it by now? These people don’t care about any of that. They don’t care about you. Did they care when our president said he would grab a certain part of the female anatomy? No. Did they care when a certain Supreme Court justice was accused of doing much worse to said anatomy? No. These people know who the real enemy is and who their friends really are. They want entry into heaven. They know they’re not going to get it by listening to a transgender thief whore like you!”
“Is…is this true, everyone?” asked Alex. Her answer came in the form of angry stares from the congregation, not at the one swindling them, but at the one they were told to hate. Their hatred hurt her badly. She could feel her heart racing and her mind numbing to the violence that would become of her very shortly.
Shawn slowly stalked Alex as she crawled down the staircase. As soon as she moved too fast for everyone’s comfort, the congregation and their Pastor charged after her in a screaming rage. She almost tripped over her fear again when she tried to get up, but this time she bolted out of the emergency exit and set off a blaring fire alarm. Fire sprinkles set off even more sparks on Shawn’s mechanical wings and his congregation crawled on top of him to put out the electrical storm. Alex used this distraction to dash down the street, her legs trembling and aching the whole way.
She ran until she couldn’t do so anymore. Her lungs burned, her heart exploded, and her eyes dripped with wetness as she hunched over on the street corner. “How could they not care?!” she mumbled unintelligibly. “How could they not fucking care!” She stomped her high heeled boot on the ground and broke said heel in the process. “Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
“Excuse me, Miss!” said a homeless man with sunglasses. “Can you spare me some change?”
How about that? He actually said the right gender prefix. But such a small victory was nothing to celebrate as Alex wiped away burning tears from her reddened face. “I don’t have a dime,” she confessed. After a silence hung between them, she pointed at the mega church and said, “But they do. Why don’t you go ask them yourself?” Alex walked away hoping at least one person got the message she was trying to send.
