Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 51
December 3, 2018
Masticators of the Universe
“Eat well, my pretties. Dinner is on me,” said Lara Spider with a grin as her tarantulas munched on potato chips like wild dogs. She could understand the trepidation of the fellow customers around her in the Brew Pub that night. Grown men inching away from her. Grown women twisting their faces in disgust. To be honest, the solitude was alright with her. If it meant no sloppy jowled, beer breathed man was going to hit on her in public, so be it. She even kissed one of her tarantulas and said, “I love you all so dearly.”
Lara didn’t even feel bad about her appearance that evening, nor should she ever have to be. A pretty pink dress made from the finest layers of silk, high heeled shoes that she slid her bare feet in and out of, and flowing chocolate colored hair that looked as delicious as the actual dessert. But once those spiders crawled around her table, she felt safe enough to be bare naked if she wanted to be, which she didn’t. “Looks like it’s just us tonight,” she said with a dainty smile.
The tarantulas scurried and sprawled into her dress once everyone the sounds of vomit-like coughing and snot gurgling erupted over the pub. “Oh no, not him again,” whispered Lara. Such wishful thinking never came to light. Bursting through the front door smelling like blood-flavored whiskey and pus-scented perfume was Tor Vemola, the bastard son of the once prominent celebrity family, the Vemola Dynasty. His blond hair covered in sewage, his blue skin ripped and shredded, his clothes disheveled and moldy, if he wasn’t royalty, he could have easily passed as a bum on the streets. “At least the bums need the money more than he does,” Lara thought to herself.
Those disgusted sentiments echoed among the pub customers, each of them backing away and holding napkins over their mouths and noises, making just as sickening noises as Tor did before skulking in the establishment. “Bunch of fucking drama queens! Har-har-har!” snorted Tor before gagging on his own snot yet again.
The young barmaid slowly approached him and struggled to get her words out as her lips trembled. “Um…what can I…get you…today?”
“I want two big fat breasts!” bellowed Tor, which caused everyone’s eyes to shoot up in horror.
“Um…pardon me?” squeaked the barmaid.
“You heard me! I said I want two big fat chicken breasts! I’m an American, I can eat big fat breasts if I want!”
“Oh, uh…hehe…chicken breasts, of course…we actually have some coming out of the oven right now…let me go check on them.”
Before she could leave, Tor grabbed her by the wrist and burst out, “Wait a minute! Aren’t you going to ask what I want to drink?”
“Uh…I think you’ve had enough to drink already, Mr. Vemola.” The zombie-like creature growled at her before she said, “You know what? Here, have some beer. Heh…” She poured him a pitcher of golden ale as fast as she could before hurrying to check on the status of the chicken breasts…or look for an exit, either one.
Tor took a long liquidly snort of the beer and Lara’s insides grumbled like a machine as she held her hand to her mouth. She could feel her dinner rising to the surface when the creature guzzled his beer and made throat noises like a double bass drum solo. Within seconds, the beverage was swimming and sloshing in his gut loudly enough for everyone to hear. Some patrons got up and left, making throaty noises of their own. Not Lara. She sat at her table and watched this piggish man with cruel intentions.
The barmaid hurried to the counter with a plate full of chicken legs as big as telephone poles. She giggled nervously and said, “Enjoy your meal…Mister…Vemola…” He tried to grab her wrist to ask for something else, but she hurried out the door screaming in sheer terror.
“Wonder what that bitch’s problem is,” barked Tor, much to Lara’s cringing disgust. If she thought she was in an unappetizing mood before, she finally had the misfortune of listening to Tor chomping away at fried chicken and smacking his lips together as hard as he humanly could.
Lara believed the next time she opened her mouth would be the last time anything of substance stayed in her stomach. But she had to say something, if not for the other customers than for her own sanity. A few lip smacks later, she said, “Please! For god’s sake! Chew with your mouth closed!”
“It’s a free country, you feminoonoo. I can eat however I want!” Another alligator bite, another long minute of his lips and tongue smacking together like crash cymbals. And another bite. And another. And another. For somebody who could finish a beer within seconds, he sure loved to take his time eating a plate of fried chicken.
The bile rising in her neck, Lara mustered up the strength to say one more time, “Chew with your mouth closed…or else!”
Tor turned around in his stool with a green-toothed grin and said, “What are you going to do, report me to the Social Justice Police? Maybe you’ll want to make a citizens arrest or some shit like that. Why don’t you come on over and…slap some cuffs on me!” The last sentence was punctuated with a swirl of his pig slop tongue.
Lara couldn’t keep it together any longer. Her stomach pounded and throbbed. Her blood and sweat ran colder than her sweet iced tea. She leaned over and puked all over the ground, losing what could have been an enjoyable meal had it not been for Tor Vemola and his gross eating habits. She puked again. And again. And again, until her mouth tasted like battery acid.
“Hey, sweet patooties! Barf with your mouth closed! You’re triggering me and offending my sensitive areas!” mocked Tor before hee-hawing and slapping his bloody knee.
“You think that’s sick? You haven’t seen a damn thing yet!” growled Lara as she extended her long sleeve and unleashed her tarantula magic upon the “patriotic” zombie. The little creepers scurried and tap-danced across the wooden floor, yet Tor’s facial expression amounted to a simple “meh”.
“Is this hocus pocus shit supposed to scare me?!” he bellowed before scooping handfuls of arachnids and eating them like candy, venom oozing from his already sloppy sewer hole. There must have been a whole army of little buggers and Tor just devoured the whole lot of them….all while smacking his lips and clicking his tongue for extra effect.
Lara could only drop to her knees and stain her dress with what was once a delicious meal. She quivered, “No…no…not my babies…not my beautiful babies…”
Tor’s expression softened, but Lara didn’t want to believe it behind her damp eyes. “Now, now, darling,” said the burping zombie. “If it’s a baby you want, I can give you that. I believe we should all be making babies, including a pretty little thing like you. It’s all part of the master plan.”
As he slowly approached her while squishing spider corpses beneath his boot, Lara crab walked away from him until she was trapped in the corner of the restaurant with nowhere to go. This man was so disgusting that the place had completely emptied out on account of nobody wanting to be around a man who ate like that. “What am I doing here,” Lara muttered to herself. “I need to get out of here…what’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you, sweetheart. In fact, I love you just the way you are. If you’ve got anymore of them spiders handy, I’d love to have them chicken fried. I bet you’re a goddess in the kitchen! Actually, probably not since you came to a restaurant tonight instead of staying home.”
Tor pulled his jorts down and revealed something resembling a burned sausage with warts and pus protruding everywhere, maybe even a mushroom sprouting in the forest of greasy hair. Lara covered her eyes and squealed, but the zombie paid no mind to her fear and advanced forward. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s do this for the man upstairs. Let’s make some babies!”
Lara slowly removed her hands from her eyes and took one last look at the diseased organ. A shy smile crept upon her face as she crawled over to have a better look. On her knees with a bigger smile than before, she said, “You’re right…let’s make babies…You heard him, Pepper!”
“Huh? Pepper?”
In one fluid motion, Lara grabbed Tor’s peter and ripped open one of his pus-filled wounds before inserting her last tarantula. The zombie screamed and danced as the little bastard crawled inside his flesh, chewing, digging, burrowing, injecting poison like an inoculation for the social disease, laying eggs for “the man upstairs”.
“You sick prick!” shouted Tor as he dug inside his wound to try to get the tarantula out of his system. Lara’s grin turned mischievous as poison rotted her foe inside out. Poison sprayed from every open wound in his body. Goop sloshed on the floor like a wading pool. It looked as though he was going to drop dead at any moment. And then…
“I’m just messing with you,” laughed Tor, much to the wide-eyed horror of his victim. “What? You actually thought that little shit kicker was going to do me in? I’ve got more diseases than a chemical weapons factory. There ain’t nothing you can give me that’s any grosser than what I’ve already got!”
Knowing her spider magic could only take her so far, Lara shot up to her feet and bolted for the door, only to be tackled to the ground by a powerful force. “No! Get off me!” she shouted, secretly wishing Tor would just get this over with. But oddly enough, the sloppy odor was replaced with a French perfume smell. The barmaid! With one shotgun blast, Lara screamed her head off yet again as blood, pus, and sewage sprayed the inside of the restaurant. A resounding thump on the ground signaled the end of this would-be rape struggle.
Lara felt a gentle hand pat her on the back while saying, “It’s okay…it’s okay…you can get up now. He’s gone.” The barmaid helped her to her feet and the two of them surveyed the damage to this once lovely restaurant: vomit, blood, gonorrhea goblins, god knows what else.
The barmaid lowered the shotgun and tearfully said, “The board of health is going to kill me for this…if not them…then that damn Vemola family. Bunch of do-nothing celebrities think they own everything. Famous for being famous and rich enough to sue our asses off…what have I done?”
Lara hugged the barmaid and said, “I’ll bet you anything those other Vemola jerks aren’t as diseased as their bastard son was. I’ll bet they’re just a bunch of posh snobs.”
“So what? That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh, but I think it does…” Lara broke her embrace and smiled at the barmaid. “If they can’t handle their own bastard son…what makes you think they’re going to be able to handle a little…arachnomancy?!” Lara punctuated her sentence with a wink. “They can take us to court all the want. They can bend the legal system to their wills. But they wouldn’t last five seconds on a giant spider web without having a heart attack. Trust me, babe, there’s more where that came from!”
Lara didn’t even feel bad about her appearance that evening, nor should she ever have to be. A pretty pink dress made from the finest layers of silk, high heeled shoes that she slid her bare feet in and out of, and flowing chocolate colored hair that looked as delicious as the actual dessert. But once those spiders crawled around her table, she felt safe enough to be bare naked if she wanted to be, which she didn’t. “Looks like it’s just us tonight,” she said with a dainty smile.
The tarantulas scurried and sprawled into her dress once everyone the sounds of vomit-like coughing and snot gurgling erupted over the pub. “Oh no, not him again,” whispered Lara. Such wishful thinking never came to light. Bursting through the front door smelling like blood-flavored whiskey and pus-scented perfume was Tor Vemola, the bastard son of the once prominent celebrity family, the Vemola Dynasty. His blond hair covered in sewage, his blue skin ripped and shredded, his clothes disheveled and moldy, if he wasn’t royalty, he could have easily passed as a bum on the streets. “At least the bums need the money more than he does,” Lara thought to herself.
Those disgusted sentiments echoed among the pub customers, each of them backing away and holding napkins over their mouths and noises, making just as sickening noises as Tor did before skulking in the establishment. “Bunch of fucking drama queens! Har-har-har!” snorted Tor before gagging on his own snot yet again.
The young barmaid slowly approached him and struggled to get her words out as her lips trembled. “Um…what can I…get you…today?”
“I want two big fat breasts!” bellowed Tor, which caused everyone’s eyes to shoot up in horror.
“Um…pardon me?” squeaked the barmaid.
“You heard me! I said I want two big fat chicken breasts! I’m an American, I can eat big fat breasts if I want!”
“Oh, uh…hehe…chicken breasts, of course…we actually have some coming out of the oven right now…let me go check on them.”
Before she could leave, Tor grabbed her by the wrist and burst out, “Wait a minute! Aren’t you going to ask what I want to drink?”
“Uh…I think you’ve had enough to drink already, Mr. Vemola.” The zombie-like creature growled at her before she said, “You know what? Here, have some beer. Heh…” She poured him a pitcher of golden ale as fast as she could before hurrying to check on the status of the chicken breasts…or look for an exit, either one.
Tor took a long liquidly snort of the beer and Lara’s insides grumbled like a machine as she held her hand to her mouth. She could feel her dinner rising to the surface when the creature guzzled his beer and made throat noises like a double bass drum solo. Within seconds, the beverage was swimming and sloshing in his gut loudly enough for everyone to hear. Some patrons got up and left, making throaty noises of their own. Not Lara. She sat at her table and watched this piggish man with cruel intentions.
The barmaid hurried to the counter with a plate full of chicken legs as big as telephone poles. She giggled nervously and said, “Enjoy your meal…Mister…Vemola…” He tried to grab her wrist to ask for something else, but she hurried out the door screaming in sheer terror.
“Wonder what that bitch’s problem is,” barked Tor, much to Lara’s cringing disgust. If she thought she was in an unappetizing mood before, she finally had the misfortune of listening to Tor chomping away at fried chicken and smacking his lips together as hard as he humanly could.
Lara believed the next time she opened her mouth would be the last time anything of substance stayed in her stomach. But she had to say something, if not for the other customers than for her own sanity. A few lip smacks later, she said, “Please! For god’s sake! Chew with your mouth closed!”
“It’s a free country, you feminoonoo. I can eat however I want!” Another alligator bite, another long minute of his lips and tongue smacking together like crash cymbals. And another bite. And another. And another. For somebody who could finish a beer within seconds, he sure loved to take his time eating a plate of fried chicken.
The bile rising in her neck, Lara mustered up the strength to say one more time, “Chew with your mouth closed…or else!”
Tor turned around in his stool with a green-toothed grin and said, “What are you going to do, report me to the Social Justice Police? Maybe you’ll want to make a citizens arrest or some shit like that. Why don’t you come on over and…slap some cuffs on me!” The last sentence was punctuated with a swirl of his pig slop tongue.
Lara couldn’t keep it together any longer. Her stomach pounded and throbbed. Her blood and sweat ran colder than her sweet iced tea. She leaned over and puked all over the ground, losing what could have been an enjoyable meal had it not been for Tor Vemola and his gross eating habits. She puked again. And again. And again, until her mouth tasted like battery acid.
“Hey, sweet patooties! Barf with your mouth closed! You’re triggering me and offending my sensitive areas!” mocked Tor before hee-hawing and slapping his bloody knee.
“You think that’s sick? You haven’t seen a damn thing yet!” growled Lara as she extended her long sleeve and unleashed her tarantula magic upon the “patriotic” zombie. The little creepers scurried and tap-danced across the wooden floor, yet Tor’s facial expression amounted to a simple “meh”.
“Is this hocus pocus shit supposed to scare me?!” he bellowed before scooping handfuls of arachnids and eating them like candy, venom oozing from his already sloppy sewer hole. There must have been a whole army of little buggers and Tor just devoured the whole lot of them….all while smacking his lips and clicking his tongue for extra effect.
Lara could only drop to her knees and stain her dress with what was once a delicious meal. She quivered, “No…no…not my babies…not my beautiful babies…”
Tor’s expression softened, but Lara didn’t want to believe it behind her damp eyes. “Now, now, darling,” said the burping zombie. “If it’s a baby you want, I can give you that. I believe we should all be making babies, including a pretty little thing like you. It’s all part of the master plan.”
As he slowly approached her while squishing spider corpses beneath his boot, Lara crab walked away from him until she was trapped in the corner of the restaurant with nowhere to go. This man was so disgusting that the place had completely emptied out on account of nobody wanting to be around a man who ate like that. “What am I doing here,” Lara muttered to herself. “I need to get out of here…what’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you, sweetheart. In fact, I love you just the way you are. If you’ve got anymore of them spiders handy, I’d love to have them chicken fried. I bet you’re a goddess in the kitchen! Actually, probably not since you came to a restaurant tonight instead of staying home.”
Tor pulled his jorts down and revealed something resembling a burned sausage with warts and pus protruding everywhere, maybe even a mushroom sprouting in the forest of greasy hair. Lara covered her eyes and squealed, but the zombie paid no mind to her fear and advanced forward. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s do this for the man upstairs. Let’s make some babies!”
Lara slowly removed her hands from her eyes and took one last look at the diseased organ. A shy smile crept upon her face as she crawled over to have a better look. On her knees with a bigger smile than before, she said, “You’re right…let’s make babies…You heard him, Pepper!”
“Huh? Pepper?”
In one fluid motion, Lara grabbed Tor’s peter and ripped open one of his pus-filled wounds before inserting her last tarantula. The zombie screamed and danced as the little bastard crawled inside his flesh, chewing, digging, burrowing, injecting poison like an inoculation for the social disease, laying eggs for “the man upstairs”.
“You sick prick!” shouted Tor as he dug inside his wound to try to get the tarantula out of his system. Lara’s grin turned mischievous as poison rotted her foe inside out. Poison sprayed from every open wound in his body. Goop sloshed on the floor like a wading pool. It looked as though he was going to drop dead at any moment. And then…
“I’m just messing with you,” laughed Tor, much to the wide-eyed horror of his victim. “What? You actually thought that little shit kicker was going to do me in? I’ve got more diseases than a chemical weapons factory. There ain’t nothing you can give me that’s any grosser than what I’ve already got!”
Knowing her spider magic could only take her so far, Lara shot up to her feet and bolted for the door, only to be tackled to the ground by a powerful force. “No! Get off me!” she shouted, secretly wishing Tor would just get this over with. But oddly enough, the sloppy odor was replaced with a French perfume smell. The barmaid! With one shotgun blast, Lara screamed her head off yet again as blood, pus, and sewage sprayed the inside of the restaurant. A resounding thump on the ground signaled the end of this would-be rape struggle.
Lara felt a gentle hand pat her on the back while saying, “It’s okay…it’s okay…you can get up now. He’s gone.” The barmaid helped her to her feet and the two of them surveyed the damage to this once lovely restaurant: vomit, blood, gonorrhea goblins, god knows what else.
The barmaid lowered the shotgun and tearfully said, “The board of health is going to kill me for this…if not them…then that damn Vemola family. Bunch of do-nothing celebrities think they own everything. Famous for being famous and rich enough to sue our asses off…what have I done?”
Lara hugged the barmaid and said, “I’ll bet you anything those other Vemola jerks aren’t as diseased as their bastard son was. I’ll bet they’re just a bunch of posh snobs.”
“So what? That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh, but I think it does…” Lara broke her embrace and smiled at the barmaid. “If they can’t handle their own bastard son…what makes you think they’re going to be able to handle a little…arachnomancy?!” Lara punctuated her sentence with a wink. “They can take us to court all the want. They can bend the legal system to their wills. But they wouldn’t last five seconds on a giant spider web without having a heart attack. Trust me, babe, there’s more where that came from!”
December 1, 2018
Everybody Knows Your Name
VERSE 1
Caught in a spider web of lies and rumors
Cut that shit out like an overgrown tumor
The harder you fight, the stronger they come
It’s a raging epidemic of sheeple so dumb
There is no escape from the worldwide prison
That thrives and survives on political schisms
You can run for your life or for your own death
Either way, you’re face-down like the rest
CHORUS
Everybody knows your name
Everybody spreads your shame
Everybody plays mind games
Everybody kills your fame
Everybody get down!
VERSE 2
You’ve got your own pornographic cinema
Gone are the days of being a private citizen
Gone are the days of endless wealth
Gone are the days of your mental health
Anxiety closes in on your cracking mind
Depression isn’t too goddamn far behind
Schizophrenia talks to you all hours of the day
A broken soul is the price you shall pay
CHORUS
Everybody knows your name
Everybody spreads your shame
Everybody plays mind games
Everybody kills your fame
Everybody get down!
BRIDGE
I know it isn’t fair
As you rip out your hair
As you fall down the stairs
As nobody seems to care
VERSE 3
No comeback tour on this year’s calendar
No epic fanfare of any such caliber
No open arms to give you a warm hug
No bottles of beer to sloppily chug
Just you and your thoughts to keep you awake
Doesn’t matter how much Xanax you take
Dead in the water, dead in your bed
Dead to the world, dead in your head
EXTENDED CHORUS
Everybody knows your name
Everybody spreads your shame
Everybody plays mind games
Everybody kills your fame
Everybody wants your bounty
Everybody storms your county
Everybody fires their rounds
Drops your corpse to the ground
Everybody get down!
Caught in a spider web of lies and rumors
Cut that shit out like an overgrown tumor
The harder you fight, the stronger they come
It’s a raging epidemic of sheeple so dumb
There is no escape from the worldwide prison
That thrives and survives on political schisms
You can run for your life or for your own death
Either way, you’re face-down like the rest
CHORUS
Everybody knows your name
Everybody spreads your shame
Everybody plays mind games
Everybody kills your fame
Everybody get down!
VERSE 2
You’ve got your own pornographic cinema
Gone are the days of being a private citizen
Gone are the days of endless wealth
Gone are the days of your mental health
Anxiety closes in on your cracking mind
Depression isn’t too goddamn far behind
Schizophrenia talks to you all hours of the day
A broken soul is the price you shall pay
CHORUS
Everybody knows your name
Everybody spreads your shame
Everybody plays mind games
Everybody kills your fame
Everybody get down!
BRIDGE
I know it isn’t fair
As you rip out your hair
As you fall down the stairs
As nobody seems to care
VERSE 3
No comeback tour on this year’s calendar
No epic fanfare of any such caliber
No open arms to give you a warm hug
No bottles of beer to sloppily chug
Just you and your thoughts to keep you awake
Doesn’t matter how much Xanax you take
Dead in the water, dead in your bed
Dead to the world, dead in your head
EXTENDED CHORUS
Everybody knows your name
Everybody spreads your shame
Everybody plays mind games
Everybody kills your fame
Everybody wants your bounty
Everybody storms your county
Everybody fires their rounds
Drops your corpse to the ground
Everybody get down!
November 27, 2018
Goodbye WWE
***GOODBYE WWE***
I’ve been watching WWE television since 1991 with a brief vacation from the product during the Attitude Era. I’m sorry to say that now I’ll be taking a permanent vacation from the product here in 2018. I tried to hold on. I tried to see the silver linings. I tried to remain faithful purely out of habit and hope. But Raw and Smackdown have gotten so unbearable to watch that I just can’t do it anymore. I don’t care about the wrestlers as characters, the ones I do care about are being made into walking punch lines, and all of this under a three hour and two hour show respectively just makes watching WWE a miserable experience.
That’s not to say that I’m abandoning wrestling completely. This is the same form of entertainment that inspired me to write a novella called Occupy Wrestling, which isn’t doing so well in terms of sales or ratings, but it’s still my baby and I love it. There are certainly other wrestling shows outside of WWE. New Japan Pro-Wrestling constantly gets praised by hardcore fans, but the one promotion I really want to start watching is Lucha Underground, which is presented in the form of a dark fantasy serial drama rather than a pure wrestling show. I want some dark magic in my wrestling, damn it! I want necromancy! I want creatures! I want death (fictional, of course)! And the best part about this? Lucha Underground is on Netflix and I can binge watch it anytime I want. All I have to do is figure out how my brother’s TV works, because his is the only one that has Netflix access.
You won’t get necromancy in WWE. You know what you’ll get? Toilet humor. Unfunny kid jokes. Terrible storytelling. Lackluster pay-per-views. NXT call-ups who fail on the main roster. The list goes on and on until the end of time. I’m not even going to get into Most Disgusting Promotional Tactics this year, because those award nominations are peanuts compared to a boring product. I kept watching throughout the years because I hoped things would change and eventually get better. I’m still waiting for that change. I’m still waiting for Vince McMahon to step down and relinquish control to someone else. Nope. Not happening. I’ve waited too long and now it’s all over.
So what do I do now that WWE Raw and Smackdown are no longer going to play on my TV? I’ve already mentioned the possibilities of watching New Japan and Lucha Underground. But what about non-wrestling shows that I’ve missed out on over the years? James’s TV is capable of digging up those old shows and I can watch them anytime I want. I could finally watch “A Room With No View” from Millennium and cry my eyeballs dry while wanting to heal Landon Bryce. I could binge watch Outlander and cry even harder when Jamie Fraser gets raped at Wentworth Prison by Captain John Randall. I could watch Gilmore Girls and cry happy tears instead of sad ones. I could watch Dragon Ball Super and take back my anime fan card. I could watch Game of Thrones and bypass the slow-paced books altogether. Or I could cry my ass off once again watching a dark comedy show known as BoJack Horseman. Goddamn, that’s a lot of crying! Could my 2007 record be broken by one of these shows?
As long as I’m looking for hobbies outside of writing, reading, and fucking around on my computer, what else could I do to keep my brain from sinking into a depression? I could play the keyboard and get my musical magic working again. I could play videogames with my brother even though noobs are shunned by the gaming community. I could do some more photography, but with different subjects. I could carve things out of my five million soap bars. I could make plans to travel the world even though plane rides are a literal pain in the ass. So many possibilities, all of which could keep me entertained long enough to avoid overeating out of boredom. Yes, eating out of boredom is a real thing and it’s one of the reasons I’m still overweight.
Shit, man, there are a lot of things I could be doing that are better than watching WWE. I could shove a cactus up my ass. I could have my cat Piper perform a lobotomy on me with her claws. I could jam a screwdriver up my dickhole. I could listen to “Love Is Blue” by Paul Mauriat over and over again while having a cute girl tell me how much she loves my mediocrity, although that’s not fair to Paul Mauriat since that’s actually a relaxing song. I could do Tope Suicidas down the staircase, to reference wrestling once again. I could perform a circumcision on myself with a steak knife. I know I’m exercising my hyperbole muscles when I say these torturous things are better than watching WWE, but certain podcasters like Jason Solomon and Greg Morgan would actually agree with me if they read this.
I’m only one and a half pages into this rant and already I feel as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Goddamn, that was liberating! I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain! Or in this case, if you feel like dying, turn off WWE Raw!
***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER RELOADED***
I figured these blogs would be a good opportunity to track my progress on Beautiful Monster since I can’t post the chapters online. I’ll go ahead and say that the prologue is finally written and I have twenty-seven more chapters to write, including an epilogue. I like the fact that I could stretch Windham’s introspection out into 1,500 words, but I fear he’s still an emo kid of sorts. I’ll try to tone that shit down in the oncoming chapters. Chapter one is where Windham will get captured and taken to Shelly’s bedroom for sex slavery. Windham can bypass the dungeon altogether, because Shelly is head over heels in love with him. Sound familiar?
***CONCERT QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“I asked myself the question. I wrestled with myself. Should I put this out there? Should I put this out there? Should I put this out there? Are people going to embrace it or are people going to stab me in the fucking heart? And I said fuck it, I trust them. I’m putting it out there. And if it happened to me, it probably happened to someone else. Hopefully, this song will help anybody that this has happened to. I want you to know that you’re never alone. This is a song called Hush.”
-Chad Gray, lead singer from Hellyeah-
***POST-SCRIPT***
In case you follow my posts about concerts and are curious, no, I haven’t been to a Hellyeah show before and I might not get the chance now that Vinnie Paul Abbot is dead. That makes me sad. Who’s cutting onions around here? I’m not crying, you’re crying! I’m not watching Outlander, you are! I’m not watching A Room with No View, okay, you get the point by now. Rest in peace, Vinnie Paul.
I’ve been watching WWE television since 1991 with a brief vacation from the product during the Attitude Era. I’m sorry to say that now I’ll be taking a permanent vacation from the product here in 2018. I tried to hold on. I tried to see the silver linings. I tried to remain faithful purely out of habit and hope. But Raw and Smackdown have gotten so unbearable to watch that I just can’t do it anymore. I don’t care about the wrestlers as characters, the ones I do care about are being made into walking punch lines, and all of this under a three hour and two hour show respectively just makes watching WWE a miserable experience.
That’s not to say that I’m abandoning wrestling completely. This is the same form of entertainment that inspired me to write a novella called Occupy Wrestling, which isn’t doing so well in terms of sales or ratings, but it’s still my baby and I love it. There are certainly other wrestling shows outside of WWE. New Japan Pro-Wrestling constantly gets praised by hardcore fans, but the one promotion I really want to start watching is Lucha Underground, which is presented in the form of a dark fantasy serial drama rather than a pure wrestling show. I want some dark magic in my wrestling, damn it! I want necromancy! I want creatures! I want death (fictional, of course)! And the best part about this? Lucha Underground is on Netflix and I can binge watch it anytime I want. All I have to do is figure out how my brother’s TV works, because his is the only one that has Netflix access.
You won’t get necromancy in WWE. You know what you’ll get? Toilet humor. Unfunny kid jokes. Terrible storytelling. Lackluster pay-per-views. NXT call-ups who fail on the main roster. The list goes on and on until the end of time. I’m not even going to get into Most Disgusting Promotional Tactics this year, because those award nominations are peanuts compared to a boring product. I kept watching throughout the years because I hoped things would change and eventually get better. I’m still waiting for that change. I’m still waiting for Vince McMahon to step down and relinquish control to someone else. Nope. Not happening. I’ve waited too long and now it’s all over.
So what do I do now that WWE Raw and Smackdown are no longer going to play on my TV? I’ve already mentioned the possibilities of watching New Japan and Lucha Underground. But what about non-wrestling shows that I’ve missed out on over the years? James’s TV is capable of digging up those old shows and I can watch them anytime I want. I could finally watch “A Room With No View” from Millennium and cry my eyeballs dry while wanting to heal Landon Bryce. I could binge watch Outlander and cry even harder when Jamie Fraser gets raped at Wentworth Prison by Captain John Randall. I could watch Gilmore Girls and cry happy tears instead of sad ones. I could watch Dragon Ball Super and take back my anime fan card. I could watch Game of Thrones and bypass the slow-paced books altogether. Or I could cry my ass off once again watching a dark comedy show known as BoJack Horseman. Goddamn, that’s a lot of crying! Could my 2007 record be broken by one of these shows?
As long as I’m looking for hobbies outside of writing, reading, and fucking around on my computer, what else could I do to keep my brain from sinking into a depression? I could play the keyboard and get my musical magic working again. I could play videogames with my brother even though noobs are shunned by the gaming community. I could do some more photography, but with different subjects. I could carve things out of my five million soap bars. I could make plans to travel the world even though plane rides are a literal pain in the ass. So many possibilities, all of which could keep me entertained long enough to avoid overeating out of boredom. Yes, eating out of boredom is a real thing and it’s one of the reasons I’m still overweight.
Shit, man, there are a lot of things I could be doing that are better than watching WWE. I could shove a cactus up my ass. I could have my cat Piper perform a lobotomy on me with her claws. I could jam a screwdriver up my dickhole. I could listen to “Love Is Blue” by Paul Mauriat over and over again while having a cute girl tell me how much she loves my mediocrity, although that’s not fair to Paul Mauriat since that’s actually a relaxing song. I could do Tope Suicidas down the staircase, to reference wrestling once again. I could perform a circumcision on myself with a steak knife. I know I’m exercising my hyperbole muscles when I say these torturous things are better than watching WWE, but certain podcasters like Jason Solomon and Greg Morgan would actually agree with me if they read this.
I’m only one and a half pages into this rant and already I feel as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Goddamn, that was liberating! I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain! Or in this case, if you feel like dying, turn off WWE Raw!
***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER RELOADED***
I figured these blogs would be a good opportunity to track my progress on Beautiful Monster since I can’t post the chapters online. I’ll go ahead and say that the prologue is finally written and I have twenty-seven more chapters to write, including an epilogue. I like the fact that I could stretch Windham’s introspection out into 1,500 words, but I fear he’s still an emo kid of sorts. I’ll try to tone that shit down in the oncoming chapters. Chapter one is where Windham will get captured and taken to Shelly’s bedroom for sex slavery. Windham can bypass the dungeon altogether, because Shelly is head over heels in love with him. Sound familiar?
***CONCERT QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“I asked myself the question. I wrestled with myself. Should I put this out there? Should I put this out there? Should I put this out there? Are people going to embrace it or are people going to stab me in the fucking heart? And I said fuck it, I trust them. I’m putting it out there. And if it happened to me, it probably happened to someone else. Hopefully, this song will help anybody that this has happened to. I want you to know that you’re never alone. This is a song called Hush.”
-Chad Gray, lead singer from Hellyeah-
***POST-SCRIPT***
In case you follow my posts about concerts and are curious, no, I haven’t been to a Hellyeah show before and I might not get the chance now that Vinnie Paul Abbot is dead. That makes me sad. Who’s cutting onions around here? I’m not crying, you’re crying! I’m not watching Outlander, you are! I’m not watching A Room with No View, okay, you get the point by now. Rest in peace, Vinnie Paul.
November 24, 2018
Happy Thanksgiving 2018
***HAPPY THANKSGIVING 2018***
With all of the political splooge going on in the world today, it’s easy to forget the positives in life. There were times when I forgot as well and took everything I had for granted. It took me a long time to get my positive energies realigned this year, but better late than never. In spite of everything, I have lots to be grateful for in 2018 alone. Isn’t that what Thanksgiving is supposed to be about? You know, aside from the good food, good company, and lots of leftovers? After a few days of Turkey comas, I finally have the energy to write a blog and that in and of itself is something for me to be grateful for. So here they are: things I’m thankful for in 2018.
***ROCK CONCERTS***
Music is more than just a collection of noise. It’s therapy. It’s medicine for the soul. Every concert I go to is a pilgrimage into the holy lands. I’ve been to eight different rock concerts this year and they were all tons of fun. In February I saw Pop Evil and three nights later I saw Starset at the same venue. In May I saw Papa Roach and on Mother’s Day I saw Soulfly at the now defunct Studio 7 in Seattle. In July I saw Breaking Benjamin and Five Finger Death Punch on the same show and at the end of that month I saw Seether. In August I saw Halestorm and In This Moment on the same show and in September I saw Evanescence perform a symphonic version of their music. The Pop Evil concert will always be known for the crazy chick who tried to dance with me, but if not for that moment, I wouldn’t have had one of the three pieces necessary to write Beautiful Monster. The Seether concert will always be known as the time another chick wrapped her arm around mine while they played “Fine Again”. I actually enjoy being seduced by women at concerts, I just don’t know what to do with that attention once I get it. Eight concerts of badass rock and roll to set my spirit on fire: what more could I ask for?
***FAMILY***
Family is always a given topic to be thankful for every time November comes along. People like to look their noses down on adults who live with their parents, but if my parents are fun to hang around with, then what’s the fucking problem? This counts for both sides of my family, whether it’s the Haines clan here in Port Orchard or the Temons clan in Tacoma. And of course, no family is complete without a collection of fur babies. As of today, I have one dog and five cats living with me. That’s a lot of furry friends! Of course, that number used to be much higher, but over the course of this year, two of my cats and one of my dogs has passed away, all due to old age. Maggie the Springer Spaniel dog had to be put to sleep because she was too sick to carry on. Sitka died on her own after battling lung cancer. Smokey had a heart attack and collapsed on my floor. If there’s something to be thankful for in all of this, it’s that I got to give these animal babies a relaxing and comfortable life during their final moments on earth. As far as humans go, my Uncle Brian passed away earlier this month after he fell asleep at the wheel and had a collision with a semi truck. I’m thankful that I introduced him to the music of Within Temptation during his final moments alive. Sharon Den Adel’s voice can be a comfort to him in death. I’ll have to contact her on Face Book and tell her this story one day.
***ONLINE FRIENDS***
As well as the physical Haines and Temons families, I consider my online friends to be my secondary family. I made a new friend on Deviant Art named Patrick Doran and he’s been my biggest supporter when I wrote the first drafts for Silent Warrior, Beautiful Monster, and Incelbordination. Whenever I doubted myself, he was there to bring me to life while still being honest in his critiques of my products. Speaking of critiques, I’ll forever be in Marie Krepps’s debt after she gave Beautiful Monster the ass-ripping it so desperately needed. I don’t know what I’d do without that wonderful woman. I’d probably get one and two star reviews on my books. She’s that good when it comes to critiques. I’m also thankful to her and her business partner Aurora Styles for allowing me to be part of their Still Standing anti-bullying anthology (I wrote Savage Beatings). They were even there for me when I felt like quitting because I thought I angered the other authors in the collection for my offensive content. On the contrary, they were very understanding of me and still thought of me as a valuable asset. That’s what true friendship is all about, ladies and gentlemen: believing in each other even when the chips are down. Speaking of which, hopefully I’ve been a good friend to Kelly Damon a.k.a. Rainbow Skychild, an Author Tuber who recently went through a depressing breakup with her now ex-boyfriend Sean. I would hug her for the longest time if I lived anywhere near South Africa (her home country). So many online friends, so little time!
***WING WEDNESDAYS***
Back in…I want to say September of this year, my brother James and I started going to hot wing restaurants every other Wednesday with his group of awesome friends. I was shy around them at first like I normally am with new people, but these friends made it easy to come out of my shell. Apparently, I have a high tolerance for spicy foods and eating them without flinching will earn me a lot of respect. One night I ordered a platter of Death Wish wings, which are the spiciest flavor the Tracyton Pub has. I ate four of them and I gave one to James’s friend Ian. I was just sitting there with a “meh” expression on my face while Ian was watery-eyed and snot-nosed after just one wing. When other members of the group offered me their wings, I made a “come at me” motion with my hand and chowed down without tearing up. I also laughed like a crazed hyena at their jokes, which made them want me around even more. Of course, we didn’t have Wing Wednesday this week because Thanksgiving was the next day and lord knows the restaurants would have been packed. No worries, because we’ll be back in full swing the Wednesday after this one. I’ll be patiently waiting!
***CONCLUSION***
Things may be rough in the world today, but if you take your time and look hard enough, you’ll find something to be grateful for. And when you do, carry that feeling with you not just until next Thanksgiving, but for the rest of your life. The world desperately needs a dose of happiness after all we’ve been through. I’m Garrison Kelly. Be good to each other.
***FACE BOOK POST OF THE DAY***
When you’re a politician greeting the public, don’t forget to kiss hands and shake babies. Wait a minute, do I have those things mixed up? Nah!
With all of the political splooge going on in the world today, it’s easy to forget the positives in life. There were times when I forgot as well and took everything I had for granted. It took me a long time to get my positive energies realigned this year, but better late than never. In spite of everything, I have lots to be grateful for in 2018 alone. Isn’t that what Thanksgiving is supposed to be about? You know, aside from the good food, good company, and lots of leftovers? After a few days of Turkey comas, I finally have the energy to write a blog and that in and of itself is something for me to be grateful for. So here they are: things I’m thankful for in 2018.
***ROCK CONCERTS***
Music is more than just a collection of noise. It’s therapy. It’s medicine for the soul. Every concert I go to is a pilgrimage into the holy lands. I’ve been to eight different rock concerts this year and they were all tons of fun. In February I saw Pop Evil and three nights later I saw Starset at the same venue. In May I saw Papa Roach and on Mother’s Day I saw Soulfly at the now defunct Studio 7 in Seattle. In July I saw Breaking Benjamin and Five Finger Death Punch on the same show and at the end of that month I saw Seether. In August I saw Halestorm and In This Moment on the same show and in September I saw Evanescence perform a symphonic version of their music. The Pop Evil concert will always be known for the crazy chick who tried to dance with me, but if not for that moment, I wouldn’t have had one of the three pieces necessary to write Beautiful Monster. The Seether concert will always be known as the time another chick wrapped her arm around mine while they played “Fine Again”. I actually enjoy being seduced by women at concerts, I just don’t know what to do with that attention once I get it. Eight concerts of badass rock and roll to set my spirit on fire: what more could I ask for?
***FAMILY***
Family is always a given topic to be thankful for every time November comes along. People like to look their noses down on adults who live with their parents, but if my parents are fun to hang around with, then what’s the fucking problem? This counts for both sides of my family, whether it’s the Haines clan here in Port Orchard or the Temons clan in Tacoma. And of course, no family is complete without a collection of fur babies. As of today, I have one dog and five cats living with me. That’s a lot of furry friends! Of course, that number used to be much higher, but over the course of this year, two of my cats and one of my dogs has passed away, all due to old age. Maggie the Springer Spaniel dog had to be put to sleep because she was too sick to carry on. Sitka died on her own after battling lung cancer. Smokey had a heart attack and collapsed on my floor. If there’s something to be thankful for in all of this, it’s that I got to give these animal babies a relaxing and comfortable life during their final moments on earth. As far as humans go, my Uncle Brian passed away earlier this month after he fell asleep at the wheel and had a collision with a semi truck. I’m thankful that I introduced him to the music of Within Temptation during his final moments alive. Sharon Den Adel’s voice can be a comfort to him in death. I’ll have to contact her on Face Book and tell her this story one day.
***ONLINE FRIENDS***
As well as the physical Haines and Temons families, I consider my online friends to be my secondary family. I made a new friend on Deviant Art named Patrick Doran and he’s been my biggest supporter when I wrote the first drafts for Silent Warrior, Beautiful Monster, and Incelbordination. Whenever I doubted myself, he was there to bring me to life while still being honest in his critiques of my products. Speaking of critiques, I’ll forever be in Marie Krepps’s debt after she gave Beautiful Monster the ass-ripping it so desperately needed. I don’t know what I’d do without that wonderful woman. I’d probably get one and two star reviews on my books. She’s that good when it comes to critiques. I’m also thankful to her and her business partner Aurora Styles for allowing me to be part of their Still Standing anti-bullying anthology (I wrote Savage Beatings). They were even there for me when I felt like quitting because I thought I angered the other authors in the collection for my offensive content. On the contrary, they were very understanding of me and still thought of me as a valuable asset. That’s what true friendship is all about, ladies and gentlemen: believing in each other even when the chips are down. Speaking of which, hopefully I’ve been a good friend to Kelly Damon a.k.a. Rainbow Skychild, an Author Tuber who recently went through a depressing breakup with her now ex-boyfriend Sean. I would hug her for the longest time if I lived anywhere near South Africa (her home country). So many online friends, so little time!
***WING WEDNESDAYS***
Back in…I want to say September of this year, my brother James and I started going to hot wing restaurants every other Wednesday with his group of awesome friends. I was shy around them at first like I normally am with new people, but these friends made it easy to come out of my shell. Apparently, I have a high tolerance for spicy foods and eating them without flinching will earn me a lot of respect. One night I ordered a platter of Death Wish wings, which are the spiciest flavor the Tracyton Pub has. I ate four of them and I gave one to James’s friend Ian. I was just sitting there with a “meh” expression on my face while Ian was watery-eyed and snot-nosed after just one wing. When other members of the group offered me their wings, I made a “come at me” motion with my hand and chowed down without tearing up. I also laughed like a crazed hyena at their jokes, which made them want me around even more. Of course, we didn’t have Wing Wednesday this week because Thanksgiving was the next day and lord knows the restaurants would have been packed. No worries, because we’ll be back in full swing the Wednesday after this one. I’ll be patiently waiting!
***CONCLUSION***
Things may be rough in the world today, but if you take your time and look hard enough, you’ll find something to be grateful for. And when you do, carry that feeling with you not just until next Thanksgiving, but for the rest of your life. The world desperately needs a dose of happiness after all we’ve been through. I’m Garrison Kelly. Be good to each other.
***FACE BOOK POST OF THE DAY***
When you’re a politician greeting the public, don’t forget to kiss hands and shake babies. Wait a minute, do I have those things mixed up? Nah!
November 21, 2018
Incelbordination, Final Chapter
The Patron Saint of Involuntary Celibacy chased Valerie Sand down the empty streets, his breath becoming hungrier and hornier as he got closer to the bare-legged beauty. Every step led her into a nyctophobic nightmare while Antero Magnus grinned with fanged teeth at the loveliness of it all. He could smell her cold sweat and it was more intoxicating to him than any high-end perfume. Just like in true horror movie fashion, Valerie banged her knee against a light post and crumpled to the ground sobbing.
Antero’s Cheshire Cat grin widened as he savored this moment with slow, deliberate steps. Oh, what he wanted to do to this unfortunate victim. Where would his hands explore first? Her smooth legs? Her lovely feet? Her ample breasts? The buffet-like possibilities gave him a tingling sensation in his ball sack. “So beautiful, Ms. Sand…now you’re going to share that beauty with me whether you want to or not.” Even with tears raining down Valerie’s face, Antero saw no qualms about leaning in for what would surely be a passionate kiss. And then…
“Who are you calling beautiful?!” shouted a gruff voice that awakened Antero from his dream. The horny dream allowed him a temporary vacation from his real nightmare: a dark prison cell with a hairy muscle freak lying in the upper bunk bed. The terrorist took a while to catch his breath and dry his cold sweat. He even felt the scar across his face to see if it had scabbed and it did. Rough ridges of dried blood decorated his already creepy visage.
Antero’s cell mate leaned over the bunk bed and scowled at him, his hairy tattooed face a mosaic of true terror. “You must be having another one of your wet dreams. You keep that shit up and I’ll make sure you won’t be involuntarily celibate anymore! I’ve been looking for an excuse to jump you and now I might have found it.”
“Yeah, get yourself locked up in solitary. Great idea, champ,” scoffed Antero as he laid on his back with his hands behind his head.
The hairy beast laughed his ass off in a throaty, barbaric voice. “You really think these guards give a shit what happens to you in here? I could butt fuck you until your intestines fall out and nobody would come to your rescue. This ain’t no PC liberal-ass college campus, buddy. This is the big house.”
Antero swallowed a lump of saliva and feigned bravery when he said, “You’d better knock that shit off. I used to lead…”
“You used to lead what? A bunch of horny losers who are pissed off about not getting laid? Is that supposed to mean something to me?!” The cell mate jumped out of bed and stood over Antero with heavy breathing bouncing his colossal chest up and down. The incel leader backed up a little bit even though he was in the bottom bunk and had nowhere to go. “That pretty little mouth of yours doesn’t know when to shut up. It’s like it’s got a mind of its own. Why don’t you put that mouth to better use?”
The prisoner dropped his pants and underwear to reveal a forest of greasy hair underneath. Antero intentionally shielded his eyes so that he didn’t have to see what redwood that forest was hiding. He didn’t get much of a choice after that when the cell mate clutched Antero’s jaw and caused him to thrash around in the vice-like grip. “Shut the fuck up and stop moving around!” shouted the cell mate, orders which Antero blatantly ignored as he yelled for help.
“Like I said, nobody’s coming to save you! All your horny faggot friends are getting some of what you’re about to get. All the guards are busy making sure you don’t get out. That just leaves you and me, buddy, you and me. We make a perfect couple, don’t you think? You can be my housewife. You can scrub my dishes. You can do my laundry. You can…”
Shuddering at the idea of what he was about to do, Antero reached for the prisoner’s erection and bent it with so much force that it snapped in two. The screams that erupted from his throat afterwards transformed this prison into a bear enclosure. Antero’s cyan eyes lit up with psychosis as he watched his cell mate drop to his knees while clutching his broken junk.
The terrorist got out of bed and stood over his foe with a disgusted scowl. “You see this? This is what involuntary celibacy is all about. This is what I used to preach to my followers. I bet you got a lot of ass during your time under lock and key. But now those days are over. They’re especially over after you get out and find a real woman. Oh wait, I forgot…no woman will never want to date you again!”
As Antero laughed like a crazed movie villain, the prisoner threw a punch aimed at his gut. The arm moved too slowly to make a connection as Antero grabbed the prisoner’s elbow and twisted the arm into a bone crunching submission hold. The incel leader’s expression dripped with lust while the prisoner begged for his life. “No more jerking off for you!” said Antero as he hyper-extended the arm with a resounding crunch.
The cell mate laid on the ground in a broken heap of screaming and snapped body parts. Just like in his wet dream, Antero’s nether regions came alive with electricity. “You think I’m just a horny kid who can’t get what he wants? I’m a man’s man. I always get what I want in the end. Incelbordination isn’t going anyway anytime soon just because I’m stuck here with you. We are everywhere. And you? Now that you’re guaranteed a life of celibacy…you’re just one of the boys!”
“Fuck you, pal!” shouted the defiant prisoner, who received a few kicks to the ribs for his efforts.
“You know what?” said Antero. “I’m done playing games with you. I used to know a guy who was just as pathetic as you are right now. His name was Oswald Crow and I thought there was something special about him. Well, I’m done with thinking anybody’s special, including you. It’s a shame since you’ve got a few feet over Oswald. You could have been one of the great all-time Incelbordinates. But no…you’re just another victim of the system!”
Antero grabbed the prisoner by his unkempt hair and dragged him to the toilet while making straining noises. As grimy as the terrorist’s fingers became, it would be a nothing compared to having shit water cover his hands while he held his opponent’s face in the bowl. The prisoner kicked and gurgled with whatever strength he had left, but Antero refused to let up and even allowed his own eyes to roll in the back of his head for extra psychosis. The harder the prisoner struggled, the tighter Antero’s teeth clamped down. And then…the struggle stopped and the prisoner was limp, his lungs and mouth full of disgusting toilet water.
Antero shoved the prisoner to the ground and stood over him triumphantly. Giving a speech to nobody in particular, he shouted, “You see this?! This is what your prison system produces! He came here looking for an outlet and now Satan is shoving a trident up his ass! Anybody else want some?! Are you ready to give me the woman I deserve?! Or do you just want to sit there and bleed like this moron?!”
The cell door flung open and revealed a squadron of pissed-off looking prison guards carrying batons and pounding them against their own palms. The captain gazed down at the prisoner and then narrowed his venomous eyes at Antero, who looked as though he was just caught masturbating. “What do you want on your tombstone, you little shit? I’m asking for an undertaker who wants to bury you next to Uncle Tuomas.”
“You want a quote? You want a fucking quote?!” asked Antero with extra psychosis in his voice, never once causing the guards to flinch. “I got one for you. It’s about damn time you showed up!”
“Fair enough,” said the captain before whacking Antero across the stomach with his club. The terrorist felt as though he was going to vomit himself inside out after such a blow. And then another baton shot caught him clean across the back of the head. And then a kick to the shoulder rendered him useless. And then repeated stomps to the sternum slowed his heart rate down to dangerous levels. The terrorist could feel his eyelids getting heavier than a grand piano while his crunching bones created a melody of beautiful music.
The beating eventually stopped and Antero was dragged out of his cell by his wrists, his body bloodied and broken while his mind drifted in and out of consciousness. He might have met his maker, he might not have. He could feel the devil’s trident entering his sensitive areas and he wasn’t even dead yet. Before that all important dinner date with Satan himself, he heard a nearby prisoner whispering something that put a smile on his face: “Death to Chads and Stacys!”
THE END?
Antero’s Cheshire Cat grin widened as he savored this moment with slow, deliberate steps. Oh, what he wanted to do to this unfortunate victim. Where would his hands explore first? Her smooth legs? Her lovely feet? Her ample breasts? The buffet-like possibilities gave him a tingling sensation in his ball sack. “So beautiful, Ms. Sand…now you’re going to share that beauty with me whether you want to or not.” Even with tears raining down Valerie’s face, Antero saw no qualms about leaning in for what would surely be a passionate kiss. And then…
“Who are you calling beautiful?!” shouted a gruff voice that awakened Antero from his dream. The horny dream allowed him a temporary vacation from his real nightmare: a dark prison cell with a hairy muscle freak lying in the upper bunk bed. The terrorist took a while to catch his breath and dry his cold sweat. He even felt the scar across his face to see if it had scabbed and it did. Rough ridges of dried blood decorated his already creepy visage.
Antero’s cell mate leaned over the bunk bed and scowled at him, his hairy tattooed face a mosaic of true terror. “You must be having another one of your wet dreams. You keep that shit up and I’ll make sure you won’t be involuntarily celibate anymore! I’ve been looking for an excuse to jump you and now I might have found it.”
“Yeah, get yourself locked up in solitary. Great idea, champ,” scoffed Antero as he laid on his back with his hands behind his head.
The hairy beast laughed his ass off in a throaty, barbaric voice. “You really think these guards give a shit what happens to you in here? I could butt fuck you until your intestines fall out and nobody would come to your rescue. This ain’t no PC liberal-ass college campus, buddy. This is the big house.”
Antero swallowed a lump of saliva and feigned bravery when he said, “You’d better knock that shit off. I used to lead…”
“You used to lead what? A bunch of horny losers who are pissed off about not getting laid? Is that supposed to mean something to me?!” The cell mate jumped out of bed and stood over Antero with heavy breathing bouncing his colossal chest up and down. The incel leader backed up a little bit even though he was in the bottom bunk and had nowhere to go. “That pretty little mouth of yours doesn’t know when to shut up. It’s like it’s got a mind of its own. Why don’t you put that mouth to better use?”
The prisoner dropped his pants and underwear to reveal a forest of greasy hair underneath. Antero intentionally shielded his eyes so that he didn’t have to see what redwood that forest was hiding. He didn’t get much of a choice after that when the cell mate clutched Antero’s jaw and caused him to thrash around in the vice-like grip. “Shut the fuck up and stop moving around!” shouted the cell mate, orders which Antero blatantly ignored as he yelled for help.
“Like I said, nobody’s coming to save you! All your horny faggot friends are getting some of what you’re about to get. All the guards are busy making sure you don’t get out. That just leaves you and me, buddy, you and me. We make a perfect couple, don’t you think? You can be my housewife. You can scrub my dishes. You can do my laundry. You can…”
Shuddering at the idea of what he was about to do, Antero reached for the prisoner’s erection and bent it with so much force that it snapped in two. The screams that erupted from his throat afterwards transformed this prison into a bear enclosure. Antero’s cyan eyes lit up with psychosis as he watched his cell mate drop to his knees while clutching his broken junk.
The terrorist got out of bed and stood over his foe with a disgusted scowl. “You see this? This is what involuntary celibacy is all about. This is what I used to preach to my followers. I bet you got a lot of ass during your time under lock and key. But now those days are over. They’re especially over after you get out and find a real woman. Oh wait, I forgot…no woman will never want to date you again!”
As Antero laughed like a crazed movie villain, the prisoner threw a punch aimed at his gut. The arm moved too slowly to make a connection as Antero grabbed the prisoner’s elbow and twisted the arm into a bone crunching submission hold. The incel leader’s expression dripped with lust while the prisoner begged for his life. “No more jerking off for you!” said Antero as he hyper-extended the arm with a resounding crunch.
The cell mate laid on the ground in a broken heap of screaming and snapped body parts. Just like in his wet dream, Antero’s nether regions came alive with electricity. “You think I’m just a horny kid who can’t get what he wants? I’m a man’s man. I always get what I want in the end. Incelbordination isn’t going anyway anytime soon just because I’m stuck here with you. We are everywhere. And you? Now that you’re guaranteed a life of celibacy…you’re just one of the boys!”
“Fuck you, pal!” shouted the defiant prisoner, who received a few kicks to the ribs for his efforts.
“You know what?” said Antero. “I’m done playing games with you. I used to know a guy who was just as pathetic as you are right now. His name was Oswald Crow and I thought there was something special about him. Well, I’m done with thinking anybody’s special, including you. It’s a shame since you’ve got a few feet over Oswald. You could have been one of the great all-time Incelbordinates. But no…you’re just another victim of the system!”
Antero grabbed the prisoner by his unkempt hair and dragged him to the toilet while making straining noises. As grimy as the terrorist’s fingers became, it would be a nothing compared to having shit water cover his hands while he held his opponent’s face in the bowl. The prisoner kicked and gurgled with whatever strength he had left, but Antero refused to let up and even allowed his own eyes to roll in the back of his head for extra psychosis. The harder the prisoner struggled, the tighter Antero’s teeth clamped down. And then…the struggle stopped and the prisoner was limp, his lungs and mouth full of disgusting toilet water.
Antero shoved the prisoner to the ground and stood over him triumphantly. Giving a speech to nobody in particular, he shouted, “You see this?! This is what your prison system produces! He came here looking for an outlet and now Satan is shoving a trident up his ass! Anybody else want some?! Are you ready to give me the woman I deserve?! Or do you just want to sit there and bleed like this moron?!”
The cell door flung open and revealed a squadron of pissed-off looking prison guards carrying batons and pounding them against their own palms. The captain gazed down at the prisoner and then narrowed his venomous eyes at Antero, who looked as though he was just caught masturbating. “What do you want on your tombstone, you little shit? I’m asking for an undertaker who wants to bury you next to Uncle Tuomas.”
“You want a quote? You want a fucking quote?!” asked Antero with extra psychosis in his voice, never once causing the guards to flinch. “I got one for you. It’s about damn time you showed up!”
“Fair enough,” said the captain before whacking Antero across the stomach with his club. The terrorist felt as though he was going to vomit himself inside out after such a blow. And then another baton shot caught him clean across the back of the head. And then a kick to the shoulder rendered him useless. And then repeated stomps to the sternum slowed his heart rate down to dangerous levels. The terrorist could feel his eyelids getting heavier than a grand piano while his crunching bones created a melody of beautiful music.
The beating eventually stopped and Antero was dragged out of his cell by his wrists, his body bloodied and broken while his mind drifted in and out of consciousness. He might have met his maker, he might not have. He could feel the devil’s trident entering his sensitive areas and he wasn’t even dead yet. Before that all important dinner date with Satan himself, he heard a nearby prisoner whispering something that put a smile on his face: “Death to Chads and Stacys!”
THE END?
November 16, 2018
Good Reads Book Tag
***GOOD READS BOOK TAG***
Q: What was the last book you marked as read?
A: “The Golden Bell” by Aurora Styles. I gave four out of five stars to this deliciously dark fairytale.
Q: What are you currently reading?
A: “Catch-22” by Joseph Heller. Actually, I haven’t started it yet, but I will eventually. My dad recommended this one to me since it’s supposed to be relevant to today’s world.
Q: What was the last book you marked as “to be read”?
A: “Eve: The Awakening” by Jenna Moreci. I purchased it on Amazon using a gift card that I won in a Halloween costume contest. I was a member of Slipknot for Halloween.
Q: What book do you plan to read next?
A: A randomly selected graphic novel. I always select my next book at random so that all of them in my collection have an equal chance of being paid attention to. It’s not fair just to read new books all the time. First I select a fictional book, then a graphic novel, then a nonfiction book. And then the cycle repeats itself until I have no more books (yeah, right!).
Q: Do you use the star rating system?
A: I do, but I give the grades my own names. Five stars is Extra Credit, four stars is Pass, three stars is Mixed, two stars is Fail, and one star is Zero Credit.
Q: Are you doing a reading challenge?
A: No. I’m a slow reader and it’s a long time between sessions, so I wouldn’t be able to set those goals for myself.
Q: Do you have a wish list?
A: Yes. These are the items on it:
1. “(Never) Land” by Jenna Streety
2. “A Is For Alibi” by Sue Grafton
3. “Absolute Power” by David Baldacci
4. “Absolutely Remarkable Thing, An” by Hank Green
5. “Adam Copeland on Edge” by Adam Copeland
6. “Adventures of Tanner the Tenacious Terrier, The” by Scott Berry
7. “Aeon Legion: Labyrinth” by J.P. Beaubien
8. “Almost Home” by Damien Echols
9. “Almost Live! The Show That Wouldn’t Die” by Bryan Johnston
10. “Alpha Drive, The” by Kristen Martin
11. “America 51” by Corey Taylor
12. “Apocrypha: The Legend of Babymetal” by The Prophet of the Fox God
13. “Are We There Yet?” by Robert Caprio
14. “Awkward” by Ty Tashiro
15. “Batista Unleashed” by Dave Batista
16. “Batman: The Killing Joke” by Alan Moore
17. “Beastie Boys Book” by Adam Horovitz and Michael Diamond
18. “Beautiful Boy” by David Sheff
19. “Being Jazz” by Jazz Jennings
20. “Best Seat in the House” by Justin Roberts
21. “Blackbirds” by Chuck Wendig
22. “Blacksad” by Juan Diaz Canales
23. “Blood and Water” by Briana Morgan
24. “BloodGifted” by Tima Maria Lacoba
25. “Book of Booty, The” by Big E, Xavier Woods, and Kofi Kingston
26. “Brutal Youth” by Anthony Breznican
27. “Bum Deal, A” by Rufus Hannah
28. “Butters Comes Home” by Claudette Melanson
29. “Can You Ever Forgive Me?” by Lee Israel
30. “Cat Who Could Read Backwards, The” by Lilian Jackson Braun
31. “Clover” by Moxie Darling
32. “Controversy Creates Cash” by Eric Bischoff
33. “Crazy Is My Superpower” by AJ Mendez-Brooks
34. “Crazy Like a Fox” by Liam O’Rourke
35. “Dark Visions” by Jonas Saul
36. “Dead and Kicking” by Lisa Emme
37. “Death and Other Dances” by Carla Harvey
38. “Death Punch’d” by Jeremy Spencer
39. “Deceived” by Brett Battles
40. “Deep Link, The” by Veronica Sicoe
41. “Deer Woman: An Anthology” by Elizabeth Lapensee and Weshoyot Alvitre
42. “Demon Knights, Vols. 1 to 3” by Paul Cornell
43. “Demon Within” by Julie Nicholls
44. “Development Hell: The NXT Story” by Michael Sidgwick
45. “Diary of a Teenage Girl” by Phoebe Gloeckner
46. “Dietland” by Sarai Walker
47. “Disobedience” by Naomi Alderman
48. “Dog’s Purpose, A” by W. Bruce Cameron
49. “Down the Rabbit Hole” by Holly Madison
50. “Dying Machine, A” by Mark Tremonti
51. “Eggshells” by Caitriona Lally
52. “Elysian Prophecy, The” by Vivien Reis
53. “Evalene’s Number” by Bethany Atazadeh
54. “Execution in the Family, An” by Robert Meeropol
55. “Fangirl” by Rainbow Rowell
56. “Feels Like Forever” by K.L. Cottrell
57. “Fifth Season, The” by N.K. Jemisin
58. “First Fruits” by Amanda Carney
59. “First They Killed My Father” by Loung Ung
60. “Four Territories, The” by Steve Collier
61. “From Prison to Promise” by Booker T
62. “Gateway to the Past” by Andy Peloquin
63. “Ghostly Writes Anthology 2016” by Multiple Authors
64. “Girl Out of Water” by Laura Silverman
65. “Girls In White Dresses” by Alex Gates
66. “Glass Castle, The” by Jeannette Walls
67. “Grappler” by Lynn Denton
68. “Gravity Rising” by Evie Driver (2019)
69. “Guardians, The” by Gina Moray
70. “Gun Seller, The” by Hugh Laurie
71. “Happy!” by Grant Morrison
72. “Harmony” by Carolyn Parkhurst
73. “Hate U Give, The” by Angie Thomas
74. “Haunting Hour” by RL Stine
75. “Heart of Thorns” by Bree Barton
76. “Heat Wave” by Richard Castle
77. “Here Comes Trouble” by Michael Moore
78. “Homegrown Democrat” by Garrison Keillor
79. “Hot Blood” series
80. “How Maxwell Grover Stole My House” by C.E. Vance
81. “How Wrestling Should Book Book, The, Vol. 1 and 2” by Adam Blampied
82. “I Am Not a Serial Killer” by Dan Wells
83. “I Am, I Am, I Am” by Maggie O’Farrell
84. “I’ll Be Gone in the Dark” by Michelle McNamara
85. “If They Only Knew” by Chyna
86. “In Search of Us” by Ava Dellaira
87. “In the Presence of Knowing” by Valarie Savage Kinney
88. “In Times of Violence” by Karina Kantas
89. “Jade” by Rose Montague
90. “Journey into Darkness” by Michael Chiappetta
91. “Kayfabe” by Sean Oliver
92. “Killing My Insomnia” by Igor Cavalera
93. “Kind of Like Life” by Christina McMullen
94. “Kiss Quotient, The” by Helen Hoang
95. “Law and Disorder” by Mike Papantonio
96. “Liberal Redneck Manifesto, The” by Trae Crowder, Drew Morgan, and Corey Ryan Forrester
97. “Life of a Children’s Troubadour, The” by Raffi Cavoukian
98. “Lights, Camera, Game Over” by Luke Owen
99. “Lion Called Christian, A” by Anthony Bourke
100. “Little Birds” by Hannah Lee Kidder
101. “Long Hard Road Out of Hell” by Marilyn Manson
102. “Looking at the Lights” by Pete Gas
103. “Looking For Alaska” by John Green
104. “Lost Girls” by Alan Moore
105. “Love Beyond Body, Space, and Time” by Hope Nicholson
106. “Loving Day” by Mat Johnson
107. “Magic Resistant” by Veronica Del Rosa
108. “Magic-Price” by C.L. Schneider
109. “Mapping the Interior” by Stephen Graham Jones
110. “Marco Hietala: Stainless” by Timo Kangasluoma (English)
111. “Mark of the Beast” by Trevor Wooten
112. “Marrow Thieves, The” by Cherie Dimaline
113. “Melabeth the Vampire” by E.B. Hood
114. “Memento Mori” by Muriel Spark
115. “Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life” by James Patterson
116. “More, Now, Again” by Elizabeth Wurtzel
117. “Mouth For War” by Phil Anselmo
118. “My Friend Dahmer” by Derf Backderf
119. “My Life” by David Jason
120. “NCIS: New Orleans: Crossroads” by Jeff Mariotte
121. “New York Trilogy, The” by Paul Auster
122. “No Is a Four-Letter Word” by Chris Jericho
123. “Norma Jean’s School of Witchery, Book One” by Rose Montague
124. “NXT: The Future Is Now” by Jon Robinson
125. “Officer Downe” by Joe Casey
126. “Official Truth 101 Proof” by Rex Brown
127. “Olympian Confessions: Hades and Persephone” by Erin Kinsella
128. “On a LARP” by Stefani Deoul
129. “Once a Crooked Man” by David McCallum
130. “One Left Behind, The: Magic” by Shakyra Dunn
131. “One Snowy Night” by Various Authors
132. “Pale Blue Dot” by Carl Sagan
133. “Pawper to Pedigree” by Angel M.
134. “Perfect Union of Contrary Things, A” by Maynard James Keenan
135. “Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater” by Michael J. Elliott
136. “Playing with Fire” by Lawrence O’Donnell
137. “Pleasure of My Company” by Steve Martin
138. “Pretty Guilty” by K.L. Cottrell
139. “Princess Alexia and the Dragon” by K. Meador
140. “PROX Transmissions, The” by Dustin Bates
141. “Punch Happy” by Lux Alani
142. “Rabbit Joke, The” by Paul White
143. “Red Queen” by Victoria Aveyard
144. “Resfeber” by Kelly Damon
145. “Rise of the Warrior Cop” by Radley Balko
146. “Rise: How a House Built a Family” by Cara Brookins
147. “Road to Jonestown, The” by Jeff Guinn
148. “Robopocalypse” by Daniel Wilson
149. “Roger Waters: The Man Behind the Wall” by Dave Thompson
150. “Room” by Emma Donoghue
151. “Rowdy” by Ariel Toombs and Colton Toombs
152. “Saint Mick” by Mick Foley
153. “Satan Speaks!” by Anton LaVey
154. “Scalped” series by Jason Aaron
155. “Scarlet Woods” by Brooke Passmore
156. “Second Nature” by Ric Flair and Charlotte Flair
157. “Sein Language” by Jerry Seinfeld
158. “Seven Deadly Sins” by Corey Taylor
159. “Sex, Drugs, and Opera” by Roland Orzabal
160. “Shadowlaw” by Brandon Easton
161. “She’s Not Here” by Mandi Lynn
162. “Shit My Dad Says” by Justin Halpern
163. “Silent Bob Speaks” by Kevin Smith
164. “Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda” by Becky Albertalli
165. “Siren Slave” by Aurora Styles
166. “Slobberknocker” by Jim Ross
167. “Soul of It All” by Michael Bolton
168. “Springfield Confidential” by Mike Reiss
169. “Squared Circle” by David Shoemaker
170. “Squirm” by Carl Hiaasen
171. “Stolen” by Lucy Christopher
172. “Story Genius” by Lisa Cron
173. “Story of the Streets, The” by Mike Skinner
174. “Sweet Vengeance” by Aliya DalRae
175. “Sword of Ruyn” by R.G. Long
176. “Sword of Shannara, The” by Terry Brooks
177. “System of a Down: Right Here in Hollywood” by Ben Myers
178. “Take the Cannoli” by Sarah Vowell
179. “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” by Jenny Han
180. “To Nowhere” by C.E. Wilson
181. “Toast” by Adam Blampied
182. “Tome of the Undergates” by Sam Sykes
183. “Toxic Avenger, The” by Lloyd Kaufman
184. “Tricked” by Alex Robinson
185. “True Fiction” by Lee Goldberg
186. “Turtles All the Way Down” by John Green
187. “Undertaker” by Chad Dundas
188. “Upside of Unrequited, The” by Becky Albertalli
189. “VG Heroes” by Jason Delfino and Carlos Malbrew
190. “Walking a Golden Mile” by William Regal
191. “Way of Spears” by Natalia Leigh
192. “What If It’s Us?” by Becky Albertalli and Adam Silvera
193. “Why Young Men” by Jamil Jivani
194. “Win By Submission” by Melynda Price
195. “Worlds with Ruby” by CP Cabaniss
196. “Worst Person in the World” by Keith Olbermann
197. “Y: The Last Man” by Brian K. Vaughan
198. “Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass” by Meg Medina
199. “Yummy” by Greg Neri
Q: What book do you plan to buy next?
A: “Little Birds” by Hannah Lee Kidder. She’s an absolute joy to watch on You Tube whether she’s giving writing advice, doing book tags, or reviewing bad movies.
Q: Do you have any favorite quotes?
A: “In Joe Pickett’s experience, the man who talked the most had the least to say.” That’s from “Open Season” by CJ Box.
Q: Who are your favorite authors?
A: Jenna Moreci, Stephen Chbosky, Susan Cain, Carl Hiaasen, Lilian Jackson Braun, and Brett Battles to name a few.
Q: Have you joined any groups?
A: The only one I’m currently a part of is Weekly Short Story Contests and Company. Every week, there’s a friendly competition to see who wrote the best short story or poem based on a one or two-word prompt. No prizes, it’s just for motivation and fun. Some of my best writing was produced in this group and I’m thankful to have been a part of the WSS as it’s called.
I tag…anybody who feels like doing this. I won’t pull a gun on you or anything like that.
Q: What was the last book you marked as read?
A: “The Golden Bell” by Aurora Styles. I gave four out of five stars to this deliciously dark fairytale.
Q: What are you currently reading?
A: “Catch-22” by Joseph Heller. Actually, I haven’t started it yet, but I will eventually. My dad recommended this one to me since it’s supposed to be relevant to today’s world.
Q: What was the last book you marked as “to be read”?
A: “Eve: The Awakening” by Jenna Moreci. I purchased it on Amazon using a gift card that I won in a Halloween costume contest. I was a member of Slipknot for Halloween.
Q: What book do you plan to read next?
A: A randomly selected graphic novel. I always select my next book at random so that all of them in my collection have an equal chance of being paid attention to. It’s not fair just to read new books all the time. First I select a fictional book, then a graphic novel, then a nonfiction book. And then the cycle repeats itself until I have no more books (yeah, right!).
Q: Do you use the star rating system?
A: I do, but I give the grades my own names. Five stars is Extra Credit, four stars is Pass, three stars is Mixed, two stars is Fail, and one star is Zero Credit.
Q: Are you doing a reading challenge?
A: No. I’m a slow reader and it’s a long time between sessions, so I wouldn’t be able to set those goals for myself.
Q: Do you have a wish list?
A: Yes. These are the items on it:
1. “(Never) Land” by Jenna Streety
2. “A Is For Alibi” by Sue Grafton
3. “Absolute Power” by David Baldacci
4. “Absolutely Remarkable Thing, An” by Hank Green
5. “Adam Copeland on Edge” by Adam Copeland
6. “Adventures of Tanner the Tenacious Terrier, The” by Scott Berry
7. “Aeon Legion: Labyrinth” by J.P. Beaubien
8. “Almost Home” by Damien Echols
9. “Almost Live! The Show That Wouldn’t Die” by Bryan Johnston
10. “Alpha Drive, The” by Kristen Martin
11. “America 51” by Corey Taylor
12. “Apocrypha: The Legend of Babymetal” by The Prophet of the Fox God
13. “Are We There Yet?” by Robert Caprio
14. “Awkward” by Ty Tashiro
15. “Batista Unleashed” by Dave Batista
16. “Batman: The Killing Joke” by Alan Moore
17. “Beastie Boys Book” by Adam Horovitz and Michael Diamond
18. “Beautiful Boy” by David Sheff
19. “Being Jazz” by Jazz Jennings
20. “Best Seat in the House” by Justin Roberts
21. “Blackbirds” by Chuck Wendig
22. “Blacksad” by Juan Diaz Canales
23. “Blood and Water” by Briana Morgan
24. “BloodGifted” by Tima Maria Lacoba
25. “Book of Booty, The” by Big E, Xavier Woods, and Kofi Kingston
26. “Brutal Youth” by Anthony Breznican
27. “Bum Deal, A” by Rufus Hannah
28. “Butters Comes Home” by Claudette Melanson
29. “Can You Ever Forgive Me?” by Lee Israel
30. “Cat Who Could Read Backwards, The” by Lilian Jackson Braun
31. “Clover” by Moxie Darling
32. “Controversy Creates Cash” by Eric Bischoff
33. “Crazy Is My Superpower” by AJ Mendez-Brooks
34. “Crazy Like a Fox” by Liam O’Rourke
35. “Dark Visions” by Jonas Saul
36. “Dead and Kicking” by Lisa Emme
37. “Death and Other Dances” by Carla Harvey
38. “Death Punch’d” by Jeremy Spencer
39. “Deceived” by Brett Battles
40. “Deep Link, The” by Veronica Sicoe
41. “Deer Woman: An Anthology” by Elizabeth Lapensee and Weshoyot Alvitre
42. “Demon Knights, Vols. 1 to 3” by Paul Cornell
43. “Demon Within” by Julie Nicholls
44. “Development Hell: The NXT Story” by Michael Sidgwick
45. “Diary of a Teenage Girl” by Phoebe Gloeckner
46. “Dietland” by Sarai Walker
47. “Disobedience” by Naomi Alderman
48. “Dog’s Purpose, A” by W. Bruce Cameron
49. “Down the Rabbit Hole” by Holly Madison
50. “Dying Machine, A” by Mark Tremonti
51. “Eggshells” by Caitriona Lally
52. “Elysian Prophecy, The” by Vivien Reis
53. “Evalene’s Number” by Bethany Atazadeh
54. “Execution in the Family, An” by Robert Meeropol
55. “Fangirl” by Rainbow Rowell
56. “Feels Like Forever” by K.L. Cottrell
57. “Fifth Season, The” by N.K. Jemisin
58. “First Fruits” by Amanda Carney
59. “First They Killed My Father” by Loung Ung
60. “Four Territories, The” by Steve Collier
61. “From Prison to Promise” by Booker T
62. “Gateway to the Past” by Andy Peloquin
63. “Ghostly Writes Anthology 2016” by Multiple Authors
64. “Girl Out of Water” by Laura Silverman
65. “Girls In White Dresses” by Alex Gates
66. “Glass Castle, The” by Jeannette Walls
67. “Grappler” by Lynn Denton
68. “Gravity Rising” by Evie Driver (2019)
69. “Guardians, The” by Gina Moray
70. “Gun Seller, The” by Hugh Laurie
71. “Happy!” by Grant Morrison
72. “Harmony” by Carolyn Parkhurst
73. “Hate U Give, The” by Angie Thomas
74. “Haunting Hour” by RL Stine
75. “Heart of Thorns” by Bree Barton
76. “Heat Wave” by Richard Castle
77. “Here Comes Trouble” by Michael Moore
78. “Homegrown Democrat” by Garrison Keillor
79. “Hot Blood” series
80. “How Maxwell Grover Stole My House” by C.E. Vance
81. “How Wrestling Should Book Book, The, Vol. 1 and 2” by Adam Blampied
82. “I Am Not a Serial Killer” by Dan Wells
83. “I Am, I Am, I Am” by Maggie O’Farrell
84. “I’ll Be Gone in the Dark” by Michelle McNamara
85. “If They Only Knew” by Chyna
86. “In Search of Us” by Ava Dellaira
87. “In the Presence of Knowing” by Valarie Savage Kinney
88. “In Times of Violence” by Karina Kantas
89. “Jade” by Rose Montague
90. “Journey into Darkness” by Michael Chiappetta
91. “Kayfabe” by Sean Oliver
92. “Killing My Insomnia” by Igor Cavalera
93. “Kind of Like Life” by Christina McMullen
94. “Kiss Quotient, The” by Helen Hoang
95. “Law and Disorder” by Mike Papantonio
96. “Liberal Redneck Manifesto, The” by Trae Crowder, Drew Morgan, and Corey Ryan Forrester
97. “Life of a Children’s Troubadour, The” by Raffi Cavoukian
98. “Lights, Camera, Game Over” by Luke Owen
99. “Lion Called Christian, A” by Anthony Bourke
100. “Little Birds” by Hannah Lee Kidder
101. “Long Hard Road Out of Hell” by Marilyn Manson
102. “Looking at the Lights” by Pete Gas
103. “Looking For Alaska” by John Green
104. “Lost Girls” by Alan Moore
105. “Love Beyond Body, Space, and Time” by Hope Nicholson
106. “Loving Day” by Mat Johnson
107. “Magic Resistant” by Veronica Del Rosa
108. “Magic-Price” by C.L. Schneider
109. “Mapping the Interior” by Stephen Graham Jones
110. “Marco Hietala: Stainless” by Timo Kangasluoma (English)
111. “Mark of the Beast” by Trevor Wooten
112. “Marrow Thieves, The” by Cherie Dimaline
113. “Melabeth the Vampire” by E.B. Hood
114. “Memento Mori” by Muriel Spark
115. “Middle School: The Worst Years of My Life” by James Patterson
116. “More, Now, Again” by Elizabeth Wurtzel
117. “Mouth For War” by Phil Anselmo
118. “My Friend Dahmer” by Derf Backderf
119. “My Life” by David Jason
120. “NCIS: New Orleans: Crossroads” by Jeff Mariotte
121. “New York Trilogy, The” by Paul Auster
122. “No Is a Four-Letter Word” by Chris Jericho
123. “Norma Jean’s School of Witchery, Book One” by Rose Montague
124. “NXT: The Future Is Now” by Jon Robinson
125. “Officer Downe” by Joe Casey
126. “Official Truth 101 Proof” by Rex Brown
127. “Olympian Confessions: Hades and Persephone” by Erin Kinsella
128. “On a LARP” by Stefani Deoul
129. “Once a Crooked Man” by David McCallum
130. “One Left Behind, The: Magic” by Shakyra Dunn
131. “One Snowy Night” by Various Authors
132. “Pale Blue Dot” by Carl Sagan
133. “Pawper to Pedigree” by Angel M.
134. “Perfect Union of Contrary Things, A” by Maynard James Keenan
135. “Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater” by Michael J. Elliott
136. “Playing with Fire” by Lawrence O’Donnell
137. “Pleasure of My Company” by Steve Martin
138. “Pretty Guilty” by K.L. Cottrell
139. “Princess Alexia and the Dragon” by K. Meador
140. “PROX Transmissions, The” by Dustin Bates
141. “Punch Happy” by Lux Alani
142. “Rabbit Joke, The” by Paul White
143. “Red Queen” by Victoria Aveyard
144. “Resfeber” by Kelly Damon
145. “Rise of the Warrior Cop” by Radley Balko
146. “Rise: How a House Built a Family” by Cara Brookins
147. “Road to Jonestown, The” by Jeff Guinn
148. “Robopocalypse” by Daniel Wilson
149. “Roger Waters: The Man Behind the Wall” by Dave Thompson
150. “Room” by Emma Donoghue
151. “Rowdy” by Ariel Toombs and Colton Toombs
152. “Saint Mick” by Mick Foley
153. “Satan Speaks!” by Anton LaVey
154. “Scalped” series by Jason Aaron
155. “Scarlet Woods” by Brooke Passmore
156. “Second Nature” by Ric Flair and Charlotte Flair
157. “Sein Language” by Jerry Seinfeld
158. “Seven Deadly Sins” by Corey Taylor
159. “Sex, Drugs, and Opera” by Roland Orzabal
160. “Shadowlaw” by Brandon Easton
161. “She’s Not Here” by Mandi Lynn
162. “Shit My Dad Says” by Justin Halpern
163. “Silent Bob Speaks” by Kevin Smith
164. “Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda” by Becky Albertalli
165. “Siren Slave” by Aurora Styles
166. “Slobberknocker” by Jim Ross
167. “Soul of It All” by Michael Bolton
168. “Springfield Confidential” by Mike Reiss
169. “Squared Circle” by David Shoemaker
170. “Squirm” by Carl Hiaasen
171. “Stolen” by Lucy Christopher
172. “Story Genius” by Lisa Cron
173. “Story of the Streets, The” by Mike Skinner
174. “Sweet Vengeance” by Aliya DalRae
175. “Sword of Ruyn” by R.G. Long
176. “Sword of Shannara, The” by Terry Brooks
177. “System of a Down: Right Here in Hollywood” by Ben Myers
178. “Take the Cannoli” by Sarah Vowell
179. “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” by Jenny Han
180. “To Nowhere” by C.E. Wilson
181. “Toast” by Adam Blampied
182. “Tome of the Undergates” by Sam Sykes
183. “Toxic Avenger, The” by Lloyd Kaufman
184. “Tricked” by Alex Robinson
185. “True Fiction” by Lee Goldberg
186. “Turtles All the Way Down” by John Green
187. “Undertaker” by Chad Dundas
188. “Upside of Unrequited, The” by Becky Albertalli
189. “VG Heroes” by Jason Delfino and Carlos Malbrew
190. “Walking a Golden Mile” by William Regal
191. “Way of Spears” by Natalia Leigh
192. “What If It’s Us?” by Becky Albertalli and Adam Silvera
193. “Why Young Men” by Jamil Jivani
194. “Win By Submission” by Melynda Price
195. “Worlds with Ruby” by CP Cabaniss
196. “Worst Person in the World” by Keith Olbermann
197. “Y: The Last Man” by Brian K. Vaughan
198. “Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass” by Meg Medina
199. “Yummy” by Greg Neri
Q: What book do you plan to buy next?
A: “Little Birds” by Hannah Lee Kidder. She’s an absolute joy to watch on You Tube whether she’s giving writing advice, doing book tags, or reviewing bad movies.
Q: Do you have any favorite quotes?
A: “In Joe Pickett’s experience, the man who talked the most had the least to say.” That’s from “Open Season” by CJ Box.
Q: Who are your favorite authors?
A: Jenna Moreci, Stephen Chbosky, Susan Cain, Carl Hiaasen, Lilian Jackson Braun, and Brett Battles to name a few.
Q: Have you joined any groups?
A: The only one I’m currently a part of is Weekly Short Story Contests and Company. Every week, there’s a friendly competition to see who wrote the best short story or poem based on a one or two-word prompt. No prizes, it’s just for motivation and fun. Some of my best writing was produced in this group and I’m thankful to have been a part of the WSS as it’s called.
I tag…anybody who feels like doing this. I won’t pull a gun on you or anything like that.
November 15, 2018
Beautiful Monster Announcement
***BEAUTIFUL MONSTER ANNOUNCEMENT***
Good evening, everybody. I hope things are going well for you all. I only have one more chapter of Incelbordination left to write and then it’s on to new horizons. I’ve been deliberately putting off writing these chapters because I needed something to submit to the WSS every week. I know joining the WSS contests isn’t a requirement, but I still want to play a huge role in the group that changed my life in so many ways. Once Incelbordination is over, I’ll need a new project. For the public eye, that project will be unofficial additions to Poison Tongue Tales 2, my collection of sci-fi, fantasy, and horror short stories.
The third draft of Beautiful Monster, on the other hand, will have to be written privately. I have aspirations of publishing this novel through Hollow Hills Books, LLC, the company owned by my wonderful beta reader Marie Krepps and her longtime business partner Aurora Styles. Part of the conditions for publishing with them is that I can’t publish it anywhere else and that includes social media. They’re a business and they have to make money somehow, so I understand that. I don’t begrudge them for that and neither should any of you. Publishing with Hollow Hills will be a good move for me since they’re better at marketing books than I am. They also do formatting, book covers, and of course, critiquing and editing.
Though I can’t post any of the new chapters on social media, I can let you all know what some of the changes are going to be. For starters, Tarja Rikkinen and Windham Xavier’s relationship will be mostly platonic and any romantic movements will be slow and steady. This means Tarja will actually respect Windham’s personal boundaries instead of prodding him with nosy questions and trying to seduce him into doing something he doesn’t want to do.
Another change is that Windham won’t be a loose cannon at any point in the story. On the contrary, he will never raise his voice when he speaks even during angry moments, which makes him more intimidating to fight against, actually. He’s also going to refrain from swearing unless he’s quoting other people. When the one moment happens where he yells and swears, it’ll be special to read about and it won’t seem forced.
Names will also be changed. Instead of being called Michelle Xavier (a plain and boring first name), Windham’s queen sister will be called Llewellyn. Instead of Paladin Cross (an honorable and righteous name), the mercenary outfit that employs Windham and Tarja will be called Shadow Asylum. Instead of being a nameless city, Shadow Asylum’s headquarters will be located in an urban sprawl called Morgan Town. Instead of being a nameless client, Orpheus will be employed by a gigantic king named Lars Stonewall, who despises Shelly Atwood for her sex trafficking business.
That’s another thing that needs to change: the evil characters need reasons for being evil. For Shelly’s sex trafficking and Orpheus’s mercenary guild, it’s not personal, it’s business. Money talks, bullshit walks. Profits before people. Ninety percent of the wealth is in ten percent of the population. Who cares if it disenfranchises the poor? While some people might find this mindset to be agreeable, I don’t. Income inequality brought on by shady business practices is one of my berserk buttons.
Instead of just twenty chapters, the new version of Beautiful Monster will have twenty-eight, counting a prologue and epilogue to bookend those chapters. This means there will be more action and less easy victories for the heroes, now that I have more space to work with. This also means there will be more room for back-stories, subplots, and hobbies for characters to enjoy. Everything happens for a reason and those reasons will be made clear in this new version.
Instead of wearing trench coats and heavy armor, Shadow Asylum members will wear red tunics with the company’s logo on the chest and black baggy pants. Trench coats can be yanked on during combat and can give an opponent an easy advantage. Heavy armor will weigh the mercenaries down when they try to get a cheap shot in on their foes.
Instead of psychedelic mushrooms that make him act like a loony toon, Windham will consume medicinal leaves to calm his mind down. These leaves are the medieval equivalent of Xanax in the modern world. I was going to have Windham undergo EMDR as a supplement to eating leaves, but that wouldn’t exist in medieval times (even with the liberties I plan on taking).
Last but not least, everybody will have unique speech patterns instead of screaming and cursing at everything. I’ve already mentioned that Windham won’t raise his voice or swear and the same will be said for Llewellyn. Kody and Christian Savage won’t even have dialogue; they’ll just grunt and make animal sounds, which makes them even creepier than they originally were. Orpheus Rinehart will still talk like a medieval version of Alex Jones. Shelly Atwood will still speak like a high class lady in her seductive tone. Am I leaving anybody out?
If you want to get an early start on Beautiful Monster, be sure to pick up a copy of the Still Standing anthology by Hollow Hills when it comes out on December 14th. The anthology includes a prequel to Beautiful Monster called Savage Beatings, a story that chronicles Windham’s early days in Shadow Asylum. The other stories in that anthology are awesome to read as well, including works by Marie Krepps, Aurora Styles, Larry Fort (psychology major), and David Quesenberry (poet). One hundred percent of the proceeds will be donated to the Crisis Text Line, which is appropriate considering the theme of the book is anti-bullying phenomena. The combination of the worthy cause and lovable reads make Still Standing a must-buy for the holiday season (and every season after that).
I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“I’ve been cast out, sequestered, and pushed the fuck around. Blindsided, beaten, locked up, and bound. Always thought I was human, but maybe I was wrong. Been treated like an animal since the day I was born. The wounds that I wear are like a crown upon a king. So heavy they lie with all the pain that they bring. My life is full of longing, but for what I’ll never know. I’ve been drawn into the fire as I reap what I sow. The ruler of a kingdom that ends up the pawn. So tired of thinking of where it all went wrong. Friendships, they come and go and sometimes they end. Wouldn’t dream in a million years that this would be one of them. Faith in the life, belief in the end. Failure’s not an option, but the options exist. I gave up on everything; I gave ‘til I bleed. Take it all, take everything, just take it from me! You’re pushing me, I’m pushing back. Falling down my heart attacks. Compassion is lost. No more hope, no more trust. I tore it down and burned it up. All faith is gone. Respect. Devotion. Dead. Disgust. Hate. Lies. I’m not a hero or a villain. Not a god, I’m just a man. Staring through the hourglass and the footprints in the sand. I’m stripping off my armor. My battles here are done. Wave my white flag to surrender and fly into the sun. Like a moth to a flame, my wings burn away. When things are too beautiful, I smash them to pieces. The more that you love me, insecurity releases. I’ll be the one that’s to blame. So I’ll sell my soul to blaze like a moth to a flame.”
-Hellyeah singing “Moth”-
Good evening, everybody. I hope things are going well for you all. I only have one more chapter of Incelbordination left to write and then it’s on to new horizons. I’ve been deliberately putting off writing these chapters because I needed something to submit to the WSS every week. I know joining the WSS contests isn’t a requirement, but I still want to play a huge role in the group that changed my life in so many ways. Once Incelbordination is over, I’ll need a new project. For the public eye, that project will be unofficial additions to Poison Tongue Tales 2, my collection of sci-fi, fantasy, and horror short stories.
The third draft of Beautiful Monster, on the other hand, will have to be written privately. I have aspirations of publishing this novel through Hollow Hills Books, LLC, the company owned by my wonderful beta reader Marie Krepps and her longtime business partner Aurora Styles. Part of the conditions for publishing with them is that I can’t publish it anywhere else and that includes social media. They’re a business and they have to make money somehow, so I understand that. I don’t begrudge them for that and neither should any of you. Publishing with Hollow Hills will be a good move for me since they’re better at marketing books than I am. They also do formatting, book covers, and of course, critiquing and editing.
Though I can’t post any of the new chapters on social media, I can let you all know what some of the changes are going to be. For starters, Tarja Rikkinen and Windham Xavier’s relationship will be mostly platonic and any romantic movements will be slow and steady. This means Tarja will actually respect Windham’s personal boundaries instead of prodding him with nosy questions and trying to seduce him into doing something he doesn’t want to do.
Another change is that Windham won’t be a loose cannon at any point in the story. On the contrary, he will never raise his voice when he speaks even during angry moments, which makes him more intimidating to fight against, actually. He’s also going to refrain from swearing unless he’s quoting other people. When the one moment happens where he yells and swears, it’ll be special to read about and it won’t seem forced.
Names will also be changed. Instead of being called Michelle Xavier (a plain and boring first name), Windham’s queen sister will be called Llewellyn. Instead of Paladin Cross (an honorable and righteous name), the mercenary outfit that employs Windham and Tarja will be called Shadow Asylum. Instead of being a nameless city, Shadow Asylum’s headquarters will be located in an urban sprawl called Morgan Town. Instead of being a nameless client, Orpheus will be employed by a gigantic king named Lars Stonewall, who despises Shelly Atwood for her sex trafficking business.
That’s another thing that needs to change: the evil characters need reasons for being evil. For Shelly’s sex trafficking and Orpheus’s mercenary guild, it’s not personal, it’s business. Money talks, bullshit walks. Profits before people. Ninety percent of the wealth is in ten percent of the population. Who cares if it disenfranchises the poor? While some people might find this mindset to be agreeable, I don’t. Income inequality brought on by shady business practices is one of my berserk buttons.
Instead of just twenty chapters, the new version of Beautiful Monster will have twenty-eight, counting a prologue and epilogue to bookend those chapters. This means there will be more action and less easy victories for the heroes, now that I have more space to work with. This also means there will be more room for back-stories, subplots, and hobbies for characters to enjoy. Everything happens for a reason and those reasons will be made clear in this new version.
Instead of wearing trench coats and heavy armor, Shadow Asylum members will wear red tunics with the company’s logo on the chest and black baggy pants. Trench coats can be yanked on during combat and can give an opponent an easy advantage. Heavy armor will weigh the mercenaries down when they try to get a cheap shot in on their foes.
Instead of psychedelic mushrooms that make him act like a loony toon, Windham will consume medicinal leaves to calm his mind down. These leaves are the medieval equivalent of Xanax in the modern world. I was going to have Windham undergo EMDR as a supplement to eating leaves, but that wouldn’t exist in medieval times (even with the liberties I plan on taking).
Last but not least, everybody will have unique speech patterns instead of screaming and cursing at everything. I’ve already mentioned that Windham won’t raise his voice or swear and the same will be said for Llewellyn. Kody and Christian Savage won’t even have dialogue; they’ll just grunt and make animal sounds, which makes them even creepier than they originally were. Orpheus Rinehart will still talk like a medieval version of Alex Jones. Shelly Atwood will still speak like a high class lady in her seductive tone. Am I leaving anybody out?
If you want to get an early start on Beautiful Monster, be sure to pick up a copy of the Still Standing anthology by Hollow Hills when it comes out on December 14th. The anthology includes a prequel to Beautiful Monster called Savage Beatings, a story that chronicles Windham’s early days in Shadow Asylum. The other stories in that anthology are awesome to read as well, including works by Marie Krepps, Aurora Styles, Larry Fort (psychology major), and David Quesenberry (poet). One hundred percent of the proceeds will be donated to the Crisis Text Line, which is appropriate considering the theme of the book is anti-bullying phenomena. The combination of the worthy cause and lovable reads make Still Standing a must-buy for the holiday season (and every season after that).
I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“I’ve been cast out, sequestered, and pushed the fuck around. Blindsided, beaten, locked up, and bound. Always thought I was human, but maybe I was wrong. Been treated like an animal since the day I was born. The wounds that I wear are like a crown upon a king. So heavy they lie with all the pain that they bring. My life is full of longing, but for what I’ll never know. I’ve been drawn into the fire as I reap what I sow. The ruler of a kingdom that ends up the pawn. So tired of thinking of where it all went wrong. Friendships, they come and go and sometimes they end. Wouldn’t dream in a million years that this would be one of them. Faith in the life, belief in the end. Failure’s not an option, but the options exist. I gave up on everything; I gave ‘til I bleed. Take it all, take everything, just take it from me! You’re pushing me, I’m pushing back. Falling down my heart attacks. Compassion is lost. No more hope, no more trust. I tore it down and burned it up. All faith is gone. Respect. Devotion. Dead. Disgust. Hate. Lies. I’m not a hero or a villain. Not a god, I’m just a man. Staring through the hourglass and the footprints in the sand. I’m stripping off my armor. My battles here are done. Wave my white flag to surrender and fly into the sun. Like a moth to a flame, my wings burn away. When things are too beautiful, I smash them to pieces. The more that you love me, insecurity releases. I’ll be the one that’s to blame. So I’ll sell my soul to blaze like a moth to a flame.”
-Hellyeah singing “Moth”-
You're Not Good Enough Book Tag
***YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH BOOK TAG***
The only reason why I know this tag exists is because Lily C Reads did a You Tube video of it two years ago. It looked like a shit ton of fun and Lily is a funny motherfucker in this video, so I figured I should do this tag too. The rules are simple: create a roster of thirty book characters of your choosing and randomly choose two of them to answer each of the fifteen questions. Are you ready? I know I am!
1. You only have one more spot on your Spelling Bee team, who would you pick to complete your team?
Options: Rick Hunter (Robotech) or Charlie (The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky)
Choice: Two guys who can’t figure out their love lives, but only one of them takes an interest in writing and literature. This one’s easy: Charlie. Although, I might change my mind if one of the words is Zentradae (even I don’t know how to spell that).
2. Both characters want to kill you, which one would you kill first so you have a better chance of surviving?
Options: Julie (Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion) or Deckard Cain (Diablo series)
Choice: Julie is a tried and true survivalist and Deckard Cain is an old man with bad joints. Hmm…which one is the greater threat to me? Sorry, Julie, but you’re taking the dirt nap tonight. My dead cat Smokey is a bigger threat to me than Deckard Cain ever will be.
3. You’re on the bachelor/bachelorette and you’re down to these two characters, which one are you going to give your rose too?
Options: Ava Bigtree (Swamplandia by Karen Russell) or The Woman (The Woman by Jack Ketchum)
Choice: So basically, you’re asking me to choose between statutory rape and the possibility of getting my guts ripped out. Sorry, ladies, you two are on your own. I’d rather be forced to choose between death and unga-bunga (only to get killed via unga-bunga).
4. You’ve been chosen for the Hunger Games, who would most likely volunteer in your place?
Options: Skink (Carl Hiaasen’s books) or Batman
Choice: This one’s a tough call since they’re both certified badasses and can rip an opponent to shreds within seconds. Ultimately, I’ll have to go with Skink since he’s used to survivalist scenarios, ergo why he lives out in the woods in Florida wearing just a shower cap and a raincoat.
5. You’re stranded on an island. Which character would you sacrifice to engage in cannibalism?
Options: Abby Abernathy (Walking Disaster by Jamie McGuire) or Christian Grey (Fifty Shades of Grey)
Choice: The sexual overtones in this question and its choices are more obvious than a boner on the subway. But since Christian Grey has more muscle on his body, his sacrifice will last longer, so I’m going to choose him. Plus, he’s a grade A douche, so nobody will miss him.
6. You’re the next DC/Marvel superhero (with your own tv show of course), who is your sidekick?
Options: Anastasia Steele (Fifty Shades of Grey) or Peeta Mellark (The Hunger Games)
Choice: This one’s a no-brainer if I ever saw one. I’m going with Peeta the ass-kicking machine. If I went with Anastasia, it’s basically giving my opponents a license to shoot me. I think I’d rather be tortured by a supervillain than listen to Ana’s whining throughout our demise.
7. You’re a manager of an Avocado admiring company, who would you fire for lack of communication skills?
Options: Sonya Blade (Mortal Kombat) or Tulip O’Haire (Preacher)
Choice: I’m being asked to choose between two badass women who would cut me from asshole to appetite if I crossed them. But as far as communication skills go, I’d cut Sonya from the team since Tulip has a way with raunchy dialogue. I need all the swear words I can muster up if I’m going to admire avocado.
8. You’ve just finished a book in which your favorite character dies, which character is most likely to comfort you?
Options: Margo Roth Spiegelman (Paper Towns by John Green) or Kick-Ass
Choice: Kick-Ass would probably tell me to suck it up and be a man, so he’d be of no help. The only way I could justify choosing Margo is if I can fucking find her, wherever she is. She kind of has a knack for making herself scarce when her friends need her the most. And even if you do find her…ugh…
9. Ugh, it’s high school. Who would most likely be part of the popular clique?
Options: Marlon Bundo (John Oliver and Jill Twiss’s version of A Day in the Life of Marlon Bundo) or Twilight Lady (Watchmen)
Choice: Hmm…a gay rabbit or a seductive female pimp? Well, since popular cliques in high school tend to be more shallow minded, I’m giving the nod to Twilight Lady since she can hook up the horny teenagers with sex and fun. I’d actually fear for Marlon Bundo’s safety since popular kids love to bully LGBT students.
10. The day has arrived; you’re finally a year older! Who would have the nerve to forget your birthday?
Options: Clarice Starling (Silence of the Lambs) or Scorpion (Mortal Kombat)
Choice: Scorpion doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anybody’s birthdays since he’s too busy breathing fire on his opponents and sticking harpoons through their chests. I’m giving him the nod, obviously. At least with Clarice Starling, it’s forgivable if she forgets your birthday because she’s always busy catching criminals. Being a detective is stressful work.
11. You’ve just found an upcoming booktube star? Who would most likely be?
Options: Cherry Pye (Star Island by Carl Hiaasen) or Tobias Kaya (The Savior’s Champion by Jenna Moreci)
Choice: I’m not sure Cherry Pye even knows how to fucking read. She’s a dumbass pop star with a shallow point of view and no talent, so she doesn’t have much of a chance. Tobias, on the other hand, is a little more scholarly since he has a background as an artist. Plus, he’d be a hit with the female You Tube audience.
12. Sleepover time! Unfortunately you can only invite one person, who would you invite?
Options: Alex De Large (A Clockwork Orange) or Scout Finch (To Kill a Mockingbird)
Choice: So you’re asking me to sleep with either a serial rapist or a young child. No matter what I choose, somebody’s going to jail whether it’s me or Alex. I’m calling this one a draw so that I can spare myself the embarrassment.
13. Bam, you’re pregnant. Who’s the father/mother?
Options: Lisa Hayes (Robotech) or Rorschach (Watchmen)
Choice: If you give a child to Rorschach, you might as well schedule an abortion right now. He might not like that very much since he’s a rightwing nut job and a violent lunatic, but he’ll have to get over it. Lisa Hayes, on the other hand, is gentle enough to be a fitting mother. I think she might have actually had children with Rick Hunter in the Robotech canon, but I’m not sure.
14. You’ve just written a super important text. Who would ‘see’ it, but not reply?
Options: Yum Yum (Lilian Jackson Braun’s Cat Who book) or Sneaky Pie Brown (Rita Mae Brown’s books)
Choice: Both characters are cats, so it all boils down to who the bigger diva is and even then it’s a tough decision. This one’s another draw since they’d be too distracted by laser pens.
15. You’ve just woken up and it’s time for breakfast. Your mum’s been replaced by who?!
Options: Koko (Lilian Jackson Braun’s Cat Who books) or Sean King (David Baldacci’s King & Maxwell series)
Choice: Let’s see here? Who would make a better breakfast for me: a fucking cat or a human being with actual cooking skills? If I chose Koko, I’d probably have a dead bird or mouse served on a plate for me. With Sean King, I’d get eggs and bacon no problem. Let’s see…this is a tough one…
And just like that it’s over. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!
***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
(RE: Rachel Oates video)
JAMES: I’m telling Mom you’re watching a piss fetish video.
GARRISON: That’s not what it is! She’s debunking urine therapy!
JAMES: Then how come you closed it after I came in here?
GARRISON: Because I can’t watch it as long as you’re using my computer.
JAMES: You can still leave it open. What, are you watching porn?
GARRISON: That’s not what it is!
JAMES: Uh-huh. Sure! After I’m done printing my homework, you can keep watching your piss fetish video.
GARRISON: Goddamn it, James!
The only reason why I know this tag exists is because Lily C Reads did a You Tube video of it two years ago. It looked like a shit ton of fun and Lily is a funny motherfucker in this video, so I figured I should do this tag too. The rules are simple: create a roster of thirty book characters of your choosing and randomly choose two of them to answer each of the fifteen questions. Are you ready? I know I am!
1. You only have one more spot on your Spelling Bee team, who would you pick to complete your team?
Options: Rick Hunter (Robotech) or Charlie (The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky)
Choice: Two guys who can’t figure out their love lives, but only one of them takes an interest in writing and literature. This one’s easy: Charlie. Although, I might change my mind if one of the words is Zentradae (even I don’t know how to spell that).
2. Both characters want to kill you, which one would you kill first so you have a better chance of surviving?
Options: Julie (Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion) or Deckard Cain (Diablo series)
Choice: Julie is a tried and true survivalist and Deckard Cain is an old man with bad joints. Hmm…which one is the greater threat to me? Sorry, Julie, but you’re taking the dirt nap tonight. My dead cat Smokey is a bigger threat to me than Deckard Cain ever will be.
3. You’re on the bachelor/bachelorette and you’re down to these two characters, which one are you going to give your rose too?
Options: Ava Bigtree (Swamplandia by Karen Russell) or The Woman (The Woman by Jack Ketchum)
Choice: So basically, you’re asking me to choose between statutory rape and the possibility of getting my guts ripped out. Sorry, ladies, you two are on your own. I’d rather be forced to choose between death and unga-bunga (only to get killed via unga-bunga).
4. You’ve been chosen for the Hunger Games, who would most likely volunteer in your place?
Options: Skink (Carl Hiaasen’s books) or Batman
Choice: This one’s a tough call since they’re both certified badasses and can rip an opponent to shreds within seconds. Ultimately, I’ll have to go with Skink since he’s used to survivalist scenarios, ergo why he lives out in the woods in Florida wearing just a shower cap and a raincoat.
5. You’re stranded on an island. Which character would you sacrifice to engage in cannibalism?
Options: Abby Abernathy (Walking Disaster by Jamie McGuire) or Christian Grey (Fifty Shades of Grey)
Choice: The sexual overtones in this question and its choices are more obvious than a boner on the subway. But since Christian Grey has more muscle on his body, his sacrifice will last longer, so I’m going to choose him. Plus, he’s a grade A douche, so nobody will miss him.
6. You’re the next DC/Marvel superhero (with your own tv show of course), who is your sidekick?
Options: Anastasia Steele (Fifty Shades of Grey) or Peeta Mellark (The Hunger Games)
Choice: This one’s a no-brainer if I ever saw one. I’m going with Peeta the ass-kicking machine. If I went with Anastasia, it’s basically giving my opponents a license to shoot me. I think I’d rather be tortured by a supervillain than listen to Ana’s whining throughout our demise.
7. You’re a manager of an Avocado admiring company, who would you fire for lack of communication skills?
Options: Sonya Blade (Mortal Kombat) or Tulip O’Haire (Preacher)
Choice: I’m being asked to choose between two badass women who would cut me from asshole to appetite if I crossed them. But as far as communication skills go, I’d cut Sonya from the team since Tulip has a way with raunchy dialogue. I need all the swear words I can muster up if I’m going to admire avocado.
8. You’ve just finished a book in which your favorite character dies, which character is most likely to comfort you?
Options: Margo Roth Spiegelman (Paper Towns by John Green) or Kick-Ass
Choice: Kick-Ass would probably tell me to suck it up and be a man, so he’d be of no help. The only way I could justify choosing Margo is if I can fucking find her, wherever she is. She kind of has a knack for making herself scarce when her friends need her the most. And even if you do find her…ugh…
9. Ugh, it’s high school. Who would most likely be part of the popular clique?
Options: Marlon Bundo (John Oliver and Jill Twiss’s version of A Day in the Life of Marlon Bundo) or Twilight Lady (Watchmen)
Choice: Hmm…a gay rabbit or a seductive female pimp? Well, since popular cliques in high school tend to be more shallow minded, I’m giving the nod to Twilight Lady since she can hook up the horny teenagers with sex and fun. I’d actually fear for Marlon Bundo’s safety since popular kids love to bully LGBT students.
10. The day has arrived; you’re finally a year older! Who would have the nerve to forget your birthday?
Options: Clarice Starling (Silence of the Lambs) or Scorpion (Mortal Kombat)
Choice: Scorpion doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anybody’s birthdays since he’s too busy breathing fire on his opponents and sticking harpoons through their chests. I’m giving him the nod, obviously. At least with Clarice Starling, it’s forgivable if she forgets your birthday because she’s always busy catching criminals. Being a detective is stressful work.
11. You’ve just found an upcoming booktube star? Who would most likely be?
Options: Cherry Pye (Star Island by Carl Hiaasen) or Tobias Kaya (The Savior’s Champion by Jenna Moreci)
Choice: I’m not sure Cherry Pye even knows how to fucking read. She’s a dumbass pop star with a shallow point of view and no talent, so she doesn’t have much of a chance. Tobias, on the other hand, is a little more scholarly since he has a background as an artist. Plus, he’d be a hit with the female You Tube audience.
12. Sleepover time! Unfortunately you can only invite one person, who would you invite?
Options: Alex De Large (A Clockwork Orange) or Scout Finch (To Kill a Mockingbird)
Choice: So you’re asking me to sleep with either a serial rapist or a young child. No matter what I choose, somebody’s going to jail whether it’s me or Alex. I’m calling this one a draw so that I can spare myself the embarrassment.
13. Bam, you’re pregnant. Who’s the father/mother?
Options: Lisa Hayes (Robotech) or Rorschach (Watchmen)
Choice: If you give a child to Rorschach, you might as well schedule an abortion right now. He might not like that very much since he’s a rightwing nut job and a violent lunatic, but he’ll have to get over it. Lisa Hayes, on the other hand, is gentle enough to be a fitting mother. I think she might have actually had children with Rick Hunter in the Robotech canon, but I’m not sure.
14. You’ve just written a super important text. Who would ‘see’ it, but not reply?
Options: Yum Yum (Lilian Jackson Braun’s Cat Who book) or Sneaky Pie Brown (Rita Mae Brown’s books)
Choice: Both characters are cats, so it all boils down to who the bigger diva is and even then it’s a tough decision. This one’s another draw since they’d be too distracted by laser pens.
15. You’ve just woken up and it’s time for breakfast. Your mum’s been replaced by who?!
Options: Koko (Lilian Jackson Braun’s Cat Who books) or Sean King (David Baldacci’s King & Maxwell series)
Choice: Let’s see here? Who would make a better breakfast for me: a fucking cat or a human being with actual cooking skills? If I chose Koko, I’d probably have a dead bird or mouse served on a plate for me. With Sean King, I’d get eggs and bacon no problem. Let’s see…this is a tough one…
And just like that it’s over. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!
***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
(RE: Rachel Oates video)
JAMES: I’m telling Mom you’re watching a piss fetish video.
GARRISON: That’s not what it is! She’s debunking urine therapy!
JAMES: Then how come you closed it after I came in here?
GARRISON: Because I can’t watch it as long as you’re using my computer.
JAMES: You can still leave it open. What, are you watching porn?
GARRISON: That’s not what it is!
JAMES: Uh-huh. Sure! After I’m done printing my homework, you can keep watching your piss fetish video.
GARRISON: Goddamn it, James!
November 13, 2018
Incelbordination, Chapter 23
“That’s right, Oz-Man. Wipe the tide pool from your eyes for just a few seconds. You can get back to crying like a bitch once I’m done showing you something. Don’t worry, this shit will be completely G-rated. Heh, the irony!”
Wacey Judge towered over his opponents just like he always did, a fire-breathing giant among shaky villagers. The lower half of his face was hidden with a skeleton bandana, a dam from the venom spewing from his lips. His hulking chest was covered in tactical gear while his gargantuan biceps remained visible for all to see.
One unzipping of his vest later and it became clear to the fire-eyed Oswald and the trembling Sarah-Jane what Wacey’s new agenda was all about. The black T-shirt that clung to his six-pack ever so tightly had the words written on it…Incel Pride Worldwide.
“I don’t fucking believe this,” muttered Oswald. “You? Of all people? An incel? You’re a fucking meat castle! You can have any woman you want! If anybody should be wearing that shirt, it’s…”
“It’s who? You?” asked Wacey while hunching over. “Sorry, little man, but they don’t make these at the Baby Gap. I earned this shirt. I never wanted it, but it’s mine anyways. You remember that little cheap shot you gave me to the balls that one day in the gym? Well, it’s hard to be anything but celibate with a bleeding dick! You ruined me, Oswald. You took everything you could from me all over a stupid fucking joke.”
Crossing his arms and maintaining his gorgon stare, Oswald said, “Joke? The only joke I see around here is the irony of you joining a group of people who tried to have you killed. You’re a bigger meathead than I thought! It makes me wonder how the fuck you got into college in the first place. If I had grades like yours, I’d hang myself!”
“You should hang yourself anyways, little brittle. It’d be less painful than the ass-ripping I’ve got planned for you. Every incel community needs a personal trainer. I’ve got what they want. They’ve got what I want. Incelbordination doesn’t want to kill me anymore because they understand me and I understand them. Or as you faggy liberals like to say, I embraced diversity!”
Oswald tried to approach Wacey for another five finger dick punch, but Sarah-Jane held him back and pleaded with him. “Come on, Oswald, don’t do this. Let’s just get out of here and call the police.”
“Yeah, that’s right! Run on home, little boy!” Wacey taunted. “If I don’t get you today, I’ll get you tomorrow. Or maybe one of my new buddies will. You ain’t going anywhere without getting your shit kicked in. We’re Incelbordination. We’re everywhere! And besides, if you run off, who’s going to stop me from wiping my ass with that Disney blanket over there?”
Sarah-Jane’s quivering fear morphed into silent rage when she slowly stood up and approached Wacey with chest-to-chest contact. “Listen, you bastard, I don’t give a damn what you do to me, but if you defile my sister’s grave in any way, I don’t care how many muscles you have, I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Give me Chlamydia? That’s pretty much the only chance you’ve got of getting laid anyways!”
“You motherfucker!” shouted Oswald as he limped towards his target with fists close to his face.
Wacey shoved Sarah-Jane to the floor and went on the attack, kicking the dwarf in his medical boot and crumpling him to the ground in agony. While Oswald screamed and clutched his leg, the meat castle leaned down and repeatedly slapped him upside the head. “Get up! Get up, goddamn it! This shit ain’t over yet!”
Sarah-Jane scrambled across the grass on her hands and knees and took a bite out of Wacey’s cannonball calf. The muscle head yelped in pain, but not before ripping the girl off by her hair and head butting her in the forehead. The eldest Bradley sister dropped to the ground limp as a noodle and dizzy as a rollercoaster rider.
Oswald reached his hand out and yelled Sarah-Jane’s name before Wacey continuously stomped on his surgically repaired foot. The dwarf’s eyes watered like a leaky faucet while his foot crumpled and caved in with every American History X stomp. After about eight strikes, the assault was mercifully over, though mercy was clearly the last thing on Wacey’s mind as his serpentine eyes gazed down upon his weeping and agonized foe.
The gym rat removed the bandana from his face and revealed a pool of foam gathering between his gritted, ursine teeth. “Those boxing skills aren’t helping you now, are they?” No response from the screaming Oswald, just tears and pain. Through his waterfall vision, he could still see Sarah-Jane slightly awake from her head butt. Her eyes widened when Wacey grabbed the Mickey Mouse tapestry on Jessica’s grave and did the butt floss with it.
“No! Put that down! Please!” begged Sarah-Jane, but poor taste prevailed when Wacey actually stuffed the tapestry down the back of his shorts and wiped his ass with it. He even threw it at the downed sister for good measure.
Oswald knew for certain this was how his story would end: laying in a pile of blood and tears with someone who shared his cataclysm of agony. He wouldn’t slay the demon. He wouldn’t get the girl. He wouldn’t have justice of any kind. The only way this could be worse for him was if it happened in a McDonald’s bathroom covered in shit and piss. Wacey growled at Oswald as he leaned down and raised his fist, prepared to do the honors of killing Incelbordination’s greatest foe.
“Wacey Everett Judge! Put your fucking hands in the air and turn around to face me!” shouted a familiar-sounding detective. “Do it or you’re getting a third nostril!” Slowly but surely, Wacey obeyed the instructions given to him by a shotgun-toting Mia Barry. Oswald would have smiled, but his face hurt worse than his foot from all the crying and screaming. “You think Incelbordination is everywhere? Well, so are we! Your fearless leader Antero left behind a digital footprint as big as your empty head!”
“I’ll leave a footprint right in your fucking skull, you little bitch!” shouted Wacey as he charged over to Mia knowing he had nothing left to lose. Sure enough, the suicide by cop was complete. Once Wacey got too close for comfort, Mia pulled the trigger on her shotgun and splattered the jock’s head all over Jessica’s grave and Oswald’s body. Wacey’s sculpted headless body plopped over and leaked all over the shit-stained Disney blanket.
Mia dropped her shotgun and cradled Oswald’s head in her lap. “I’m so glad I found you when I did.” She pulled out her radio and called for medical attention for both Oswald and Sarah-Jane. “Don’t worry, we’re going to get you fixed up.”
“My foot…my goddamn foot! It hurts!” moaned Oswald.
“Listen to me. It’ll be alright. I know you’re in a lot of pain, but there’s something else I need to tell you. You need to go into witness protection after your surgery.” The dwarf’s burning, watery eyes lit up like a neon sign at that revelation. “Incelbordination is going to keep hunting you down until they kill you. You were responsible for Antero’s downfall. That means they want blood. I’m sorry, Oswald. You can’t be here anymore. You’re going to have a new name, a new identity, and a new place to live.”
“No, you can’t take him away!” begged Sarah-Jane while tugging at Mia’s arm.
“It’s okay, Sarah-Jane, it’s okay!” insisted Oswald. “There’s nothing left for me to do here. This town can do without me. I’ll be alright no matter where I go. You know why? Because people like you make me believe that.”
“Are…are…are you sure?” wept the eldest Bradley sister.
“I’m positive,” said Oswald with a sad smile. “I can’t keep fighting Incelbordination forever. My foot can’t handle it. My body can’t handle it. My mind sure as shit can’t handle it. I swear I’ll be okay. You’ll be okay too. Everyone will be okay. You just have to trust Detective Barry. She knows what the hell she’s doing.”
A beat of uncomfortable silence hung between all three parties. And then Sarah-Jane leaned her face closer to Oswald and kissed his burning red forehead. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but… I want you to take that with you wherever they decide to put you. Thank you for everything, Oswald. I won’t forget you.”
“I won’t forget you either…I can’t even forget seeing a headless version of Wacey. No matter where I go, I will conquer. Fairytales don’t just tell us that dragons are real. They tell us that dragons can be beaten. I can do this…I believe in myself…I never though I’d hear myself say those words…”
Wacey Judge towered over his opponents just like he always did, a fire-breathing giant among shaky villagers. The lower half of his face was hidden with a skeleton bandana, a dam from the venom spewing from his lips. His hulking chest was covered in tactical gear while his gargantuan biceps remained visible for all to see.
One unzipping of his vest later and it became clear to the fire-eyed Oswald and the trembling Sarah-Jane what Wacey’s new agenda was all about. The black T-shirt that clung to his six-pack ever so tightly had the words written on it…Incel Pride Worldwide.
“I don’t fucking believe this,” muttered Oswald. “You? Of all people? An incel? You’re a fucking meat castle! You can have any woman you want! If anybody should be wearing that shirt, it’s…”
“It’s who? You?” asked Wacey while hunching over. “Sorry, little man, but they don’t make these at the Baby Gap. I earned this shirt. I never wanted it, but it’s mine anyways. You remember that little cheap shot you gave me to the balls that one day in the gym? Well, it’s hard to be anything but celibate with a bleeding dick! You ruined me, Oswald. You took everything you could from me all over a stupid fucking joke.”
Crossing his arms and maintaining his gorgon stare, Oswald said, “Joke? The only joke I see around here is the irony of you joining a group of people who tried to have you killed. You’re a bigger meathead than I thought! It makes me wonder how the fuck you got into college in the first place. If I had grades like yours, I’d hang myself!”
“You should hang yourself anyways, little brittle. It’d be less painful than the ass-ripping I’ve got planned for you. Every incel community needs a personal trainer. I’ve got what they want. They’ve got what I want. Incelbordination doesn’t want to kill me anymore because they understand me and I understand them. Or as you faggy liberals like to say, I embraced diversity!”
Oswald tried to approach Wacey for another five finger dick punch, but Sarah-Jane held him back and pleaded with him. “Come on, Oswald, don’t do this. Let’s just get out of here and call the police.”
“Yeah, that’s right! Run on home, little boy!” Wacey taunted. “If I don’t get you today, I’ll get you tomorrow. Or maybe one of my new buddies will. You ain’t going anywhere without getting your shit kicked in. We’re Incelbordination. We’re everywhere! And besides, if you run off, who’s going to stop me from wiping my ass with that Disney blanket over there?”
Sarah-Jane’s quivering fear morphed into silent rage when she slowly stood up and approached Wacey with chest-to-chest contact. “Listen, you bastard, I don’t give a damn what you do to me, but if you defile my sister’s grave in any way, I don’t care how many muscles you have, I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Give me Chlamydia? That’s pretty much the only chance you’ve got of getting laid anyways!”
“You motherfucker!” shouted Oswald as he limped towards his target with fists close to his face.
Wacey shoved Sarah-Jane to the floor and went on the attack, kicking the dwarf in his medical boot and crumpling him to the ground in agony. While Oswald screamed and clutched his leg, the meat castle leaned down and repeatedly slapped him upside the head. “Get up! Get up, goddamn it! This shit ain’t over yet!”
Sarah-Jane scrambled across the grass on her hands and knees and took a bite out of Wacey’s cannonball calf. The muscle head yelped in pain, but not before ripping the girl off by her hair and head butting her in the forehead. The eldest Bradley sister dropped to the ground limp as a noodle and dizzy as a rollercoaster rider.
Oswald reached his hand out and yelled Sarah-Jane’s name before Wacey continuously stomped on his surgically repaired foot. The dwarf’s eyes watered like a leaky faucet while his foot crumpled and caved in with every American History X stomp. After about eight strikes, the assault was mercifully over, though mercy was clearly the last thing on Wacey’s mind as his serpentine eyes gazed down upon his weeping and agonized foe.
The gym rat removed the bandana from his face and revealed a pool of foam gathering between his gritted, ursine teeth. “Those boxing skills aren’t helping you now, are they?” No response from the screaming Oswald, just tears and pain. Through his waterfall vision, he could still see Sarah-Jane slightly awake from her head butt. Her eyes widened when Wacey grabbed the Mickey Mouse tapestry on Jessica’s grave and did the butt floss with it.
“No! Put that down! Please!” begged Sarah-Jane, but poor taste prevailed when Wacey actually stuffed the tapestry down the back of his shorts and wiped his ass with it. He even threw it at the downed sister for good measure.
Oswald knew for certain this was how his story would end: laying in a pile of blood and tears with someone who shared his cataclysm of agony. He wouldn’t slay the demon. He wouldn’t get the girl. He wouldn’t have justice of any kind. The only way this could be worse for him was if it happened in a McDonald’s bathroom covered in shit and piss. Wacey growled at Oswald as he leaned down and raised his fist, prepared to do the honors of killing Incelbordination’s greatest foe.
“Wacey Everett Judge! Put your fucking hands in the air and turn around to face me!” shouted a familiar-sounding detective. “Do it or you’re getting a third nostril!” Slowly but surely, Wacey obeyed the instructions given to him by a shotgun-toting Mia Barry. Oswald would have smiled, but his face hurt worse than his foot from all the crying and screaming. “You think Incelbordination is everywhere? Well, so are we! Your fearless leader Antero left behind a digital footprint as big as your empty head!”
“I’ll leave a footprint right in your fucking skull, you little bitch!” shouted Wacey as he charged over to Mia knowing he had nothing left to lose. Sure enough, the suicide by cop was complete. Once Wacey got too close for comfort, Mia pulled the trigger on her shotgun and splattered the jock’s head all over Jessica’s grave and Oswald’s body. Wacey’s sculpted headless body plopped over and leaked all over the shit-stained Disney blanket.
Mia dropped her shotgun and cradled Oswald’s head in her lap. “I’m so glad I found you when I did.” She pulled out her radio and called for medical attention for both Oswald and Sarah-Jane. “Don’t worry, we’re going to get you fixed up.”
“My foot…my goddamn foot! It hurts!” moaned Oswald.
“Listen to me. It’ll be alright. I know you’re in a lot of pain, but there’s something else I need to tell you. You need to go into witness protection after your surgery.” The dwarf’s burning, watery eyes lit up like a neon sign at that revelation. “Incelbordination is going to keep hunting you down until they kill you. You were responsible for Antero’s downfall. That means they want blood. I’m sorry, Oswald. You can’t be here anymore. You’re going to have a new name, a new identity, and a new place to live.”
“No, you can’t take him away!” begged Sarah-Jane while tugging at Mia’s arm.
“It’s okay, Sarah-Jane, it’s okay!” insisted Oswald. “There’s nothing left for me to do here. This town can do without me. I’ll be alright no matter where I go. You know why? Because people like you make me believe that.”
“Are…are…are you sure?” wept the eldest Bradley sister.
“I’m positive,” said Oswald with a sad smile. “I can’t keep fighting Incelbordination forever. My foot can’t handle it. My body can’t handle it. My mind sure as shit can’t handle it. I swear I’ll be okay. You’ll be okay too. Everyone will be okay. You just have to trust Detective Barry. She knows what the hell she’s doing.”
A beat of uncomfortable silence hung between all three parties. And then Sarah-Jane leaned her face closer to Oswald and kissed his burning red forehead. “I know we don’t know each other that well, but… I want you to take that with you wherever they decide to put you. Thank you for everything, Oswald. I won’t forget you.”
“I won’t forget you either…I can’t even forget seeing a headless version of Wacey. No matter where I go, I will conquer. Fairytales don’t just tell us that dragons are real. They tell us that dragons can be beaten. I can do this…I believe in myself…I never though I’d hear myself say those words…”
November 8, 2018
Incelbordination, Chapter 22
Now that Oswald’s eyes had been wrung completely dry and his heart was shattered and glued back together multiple times, the final piece of the puzzle involved the bouquet of roses he cradled in his little arms. Where Tuomas Magnus had none, somebody else would inherit these fragrant, gorgeous red roses. Oswald took an extra sniff of them as if to mask the sadness crippling him from the inside. By the time he made it to the graveyard, somebody was already there paying tribute.
Kneeling and praying over Jessica Bradley’s grave was a redheaded woman who looked old enough to be her sister. Whoever she was, she delicately laid a Disney tapestry over the gravestone to go with the rest of the flowers mourners had sent. Jessica loved Disney movies. The Mickey Mouse heads on the tapestry were a lovely touch. The tears in this mystery woman’s eyes hydrated the grass beneath while her sobs were only heard by the most delicate ears.
The woman turned around and wiped the wetness from her face. “Sorry, I didn’t see you back there until now.”
“No problem,” said Oswald with a face longer than his body. He limped over to Jessica’s grave and gently laid his bouquet of roses underneath the Mickey Mouse tapestry. The little guy sighed as he tried to suppress his tears, though they wouldn’t be completely out of place in a setting like this.
“So…how did you know my sister?” asked the young lady.
Not wanting to let on how they actually met, Oswald said in his most genuine tone, “We were friends. She taught me how to come out of my shell.”
The woman smiled as she wiped her face yet again. “I wish people would remember her for that instead of what she had to go through. It’s not her fault at all. I just…I just wish I could have done something about it.”
At the risk of being unfairly labeled a perv, Oswald made the first move when he placed his hand on the sister’s shoulder. “Whatever happened between you and Jessica, it’s not your fault.”
The sister gave an alarmed look at Oswald’s hand, but not for the reason the little guy thought. “What happened to your knuckles?”
“It’s a long story, one that I’m not quite ready to tell just yet. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you and your sister. I came here to pay my respects. I just wish there were more roses surrounding her grave.”
Without warning, the sister hugged Oswald and soaked his shoulders with an even greater abundance of tears. Being overwhelmed by all of this emotion wore off eventually when Oswald hugged her back. He wasn’t about to get into the semantics of hugging a complete stranger when he himself just came from a cuddle therapy session with someone named Kristen Jealous.
Once the sorrowful embrace broke, the sister said, “Sorry, where are my manners? My name is Sarah-Jane.”
“I’m Oswald. Nice to meet you.”
Sarah-Jane smiled as the two of them shook hands. “That’s an unusual name.”
“My full name is Oswald Roman Crow. My initials spell ORC.”
Sarah-Jane giggled. “That’s funny. My mom’s name is also Sarah-Jane, but her maiden name was Walter. So her initials used to spell SJW.”
The two of them shared a laugh together and hugged once again. “You see this?” said Oswald. “This is what life should be about: two people sharing a laugh and having fun together.”
“I could have told you that. I just wish I could have told Jessica that before she decided to…do what she did. I don’t think she ever got enough love back home. Heh, if that’s not the understatement of the year, I don’t know what the hell is.”
Knowing that the waters were properly tested, Oswald took his affectionate ways a step further by squeezing Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. This was so well received that she turned around and sat on her butt to get the full effect of the shoulder rub. “It’s been a while since I’ve had one of these. Are you sure your hands aren’t hurting? Those knuckles look like…”
Cutting her off, Oswald said, “It’s alright, I swear. My fists have been through worse.”
“Really now?” asked Sarah-Jane. “Seriously, what happened to your fists? I know you said this trip was all about Jessica and all, but I legitimately want to know.”
Oswald sighed and tucked his head, but never stopped squeezing Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. “I don’t even remember how long ago this happened, but there was a terrorist attack on campus. I’m sure you probably heard about it in the media and hopefully secondhand information is all you have. I experienced this shit firsthand. The reason I have scarred knuckles is because I punched down a glass door to rescue someone. She swears I’m a hero, but I don’t feel like one right now. Some days I feel like I’ve done more harm than good.”
“Risking your life to save someone else’s doesn’t sound very cowardly to me. I think you should get a medal just for that.”
The little guy stopped the massage and patted Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. “They don’t give out medals to people who are unfairly suspected of being part of the group that attacked our school.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
Sarah-Jane spun around and tenderly gripped Oswald’s shoulders. “The fact that you came by to leave roses on my sister’s grave is honorable enough on its own. Society doesn’t normally give two shits about teenage prostitutes. They’re all about saving the children, but when they need help the most, society turns their backs. So much for law and order.”
“Why do you blame yourself for your sister’s death?”
“Because I don’t even live in this city. I live a few counties over and…” The tears returned. “I didn’t even know what was happening to her. I had a career of my own, but I couldn’t even find the time to pick up the damn phone and send her a text message? I could have saved her, Oswald. If I didn’t live so far away…”
Oswald placed a fingertip on Sarah-Jane’s lips and said, “Enough. Like you said, you didn’t even know what was going on with her until now. There was nothing you could have done. There was nothing I or anybody else could have done either. If you want justice for her, then use your voice. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s true. It took me a while to learn that and I’m still slowly learning more about it…but if you want someone to help you with this…I’m here for you.”
“You just met me a few minutes ago, Oswald. How can you possibly want to help me now?”
“Because…if I do nothing, then things will only get worse. I’ve played the role of bystander and I’ve also played the role of fuck-up. I want to do good things with my life from now on and if that means helping you through this dark time, then so be it.”
Sarah-Jane cupped Oswald’s face in her hands. “You’re a sweet guy. I don’t know you that well, but you’re a sweet guy. And you’re a teddy bear, too.”
The two of them smiled while Oswald’s face reddened at the teddy bear comment. Their faces were only inches away from each other. It only seemed right. Was Oswald ready to make that next move or would this be considered too desperate? Could he do the unthinkable and…kiss her? The thought made his hands sweat and his throat dry. This woman was hurting enough as it was. He didn’t need to make things worse with a kiss. But then Sarah-Jane pulled her face even closer and…
“Oh-ho-ho-ho….he-he-he…ha-ha-ha…and I thought MY jokes were bad,” said a familiar husky voice as a behemoth of a man cast his shadow over Oswald and Sarah-Jane, completely breaking up their loving moment.
Miss Bradley’s breathing quickened while Oswald’s was deeper and hoarser. The little guy clenched his fists, furrowed his brows, and tightened his teeth. “Wacey…this is neither the time nor the place for your sick and twisted bullshit. We’re in a graveyard, for shit’s sake!”
“Oh, I think this is the perfect time and place for this, little guy. We ARE in a graveyard. The only thing that’s missing is a tombstone with your name on it. Who knows? Maybe I’ll carve one for your newfound girlfriend over here.”
Kneeling and praying over Jessica Bradley’s grave was a redheaded woman who looked old enough to be her sister. Whoever she was, she delicately laid a Disney tapestry over the gravestone to go with the rest of the flowers mourners had sent. Jessica loved Disney movies. The Mickey Mouse heads on the tapestry were a lovely touch. The tears in this mystery woman’s eyes hydrated the grass beneath while her sobs were only heard by the most delicate ears.
The woman turned around and wiped the wetness from her face. “Sorry, I didn’t see you back there until now.”
“No problem,” said Oswald with a face longer than his body. He limped over to Jessica’s grave and gently laid his bouquet of roses underneath the Mickey Mouse tapestry. The little guy sighed as he tried to suppress his tears, though they wouldn’t be completely out of place in a setting like this.
“So…how did you know my sister?” asked the young lady.
Not wanting to let on how they actually met, Oswald said in his most genuine tone, “We were friends. She taught me how to come out of my shell.”
The woman smiled as she wiped her face yet again. “I wish people would remember her for that instead of what she had to go through. It’s not her fault at all. I just…I just wish I could have done something about it.”
At the risk of being unfairly labeled a perv, Oswald made the first move when he placed his hand on the sister’s shoulder. “Whatever happened between you and Jessica, it’s not your fault.”
The sister gave an alarmed look at Oswald’s hand, but not for the reason the little guy thought. “What happened to your knuckles?”
“It’s a long story, one that I’m not quite ready to tell just yet. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you and your sister. I came here to pay my respects. I just wish there were more roses surrounding her grave.”
Without warning, the sister hugged Oswald and soaked his shoulders with an even greater abundance of tears. Being overwhelmed by all of this emotion wore off eventually when Oswald hugged her back. He wasn’t about to get into the semantics of hugging a complete stranger when he himself just came from a cuddle therapy session with someone named Kristen Jealous.
Once the sorrowful embrace broke, the sister said, “Sorry, where are my manners? My name is Sarah-Jane.”
“I’m Oswald. Nice to meet you.”
Sarah-Jane smiled as the two of them shook hands. “That’s an unusual name.”
“My full name is Oswald Roman Crow. My initials spell ORC.”
Sarah-Jane giggled. “That’s funny. My mom’s name is also Sarah-Jane, but her maiden name was Walter. So her initials used to spell SJW.”
The two of them shared a laugh together and hugged once again. “You see this?” said Oswald. “This is what life should be about: two people sharing a laugh and having fun together.”
“I could have told you that. I just wish I could have told Jessica that before she decided to…do what she did. I don’t think she ever got enough love back home. Heh, if that’s not the understatement of the year, I don’t know what the hell is.”
Knowing that the waters were properly tested, Oswald took his affectionate ways a step further by squeezing Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. This was so well received that she turned around and sat on her butt to get the full effect of the shoulder rub. “It’s been a while since I’ve had one of these. Are you sure your hands aren’t hurting? Those knuckles look like…”
Cutting her off, Oswald said, “It’s alright, I swear. My fists have been through worse.”
“Really now?” asked Sarah-Jane. “Seriously, what happened to your fists? I know you said this trip was all about Jessica and all, but I legitimately want to know.”
Oswald sighed and tucked his head, but never stopped squeezing Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. “I don’t even remember how long ago this happened, but there was a terrorist attack on campus. I’m sure you probably heard about it in the media and hopefully secondhand information is all you have. I experienced this shit firsthand. The reason I have scarred knuckles is because I punched down a glass door to rescue someone. She swears I’m a hero, but I don’t feel like one right now. Some days I feel like I’ve done more harm than good.”
“Risking your life to save someone else’s doesn’t sound very cowardly to me. I think you should get a medal just for that.”
The little guy stopped the massage and patted Sarah-Jane’s shoulders. “They don’t give out medals to people who are unfairly suspected of being part of the group that attacked our school.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
Sarah-Jane spun around and tenderly gripped Oswald’s shoulders. “The fact that you came by to leave roses on my sister’s grave is honorable enough on its own. Society doesn’t normally give two shits about teenage prostitutes. They’re all about saving the children, but when they need help the most, society turns their backs. So much for law and order.”
“Why do you blame yourself for your sister’s death?”
“Because I don’t even live in this city. I live a few counties over and…” The tears returned. “I didn’t even know what was happening to her. I had a career of my own, but I couldn’t even find the time to pick up the damn phone and send her a text message? I could have saved her, Oswald. If I didn’t live so far away…”
Oswald placed a fingertip on Sarah-Jane’s lips and said, “Enough. Like you said, you didn’t even know what was going on with her until now. There was nothing you could have done. There was nothing I or anybody else could have done either. If you want justice for her, then use your voice. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s true. It took me a while to learn that and I’m still slowly learning more about it…but if you want someone to help you with this…I’m here for you.”
“You just met me a few minutes ago, Oswald. How can you possibly want to help me now?”
“Because…if I do nothing, then things will only get worse. I’ve played the role of bystander and I’ve also played the role of fuck-up. I want to do good things with my life from now on and if that means helping you through this dark time, then so be it.”
Sarah-Jane cupped Oswald’s face in her hands. “You’re a sweet guy. I don’t know you that well, but you’re a sweet guy. And you’re a teddy bear, too.”
The two of them smiled while Oswald’s face reddened at the teddy bear comment. Their faces were only inches away from each other. It only seemed right. Was Oswald ready to make that next move or would this be considered too desperate? Could he do the unthinkable and…kiss her? The thought made his hands sweat and his throat dry. This woman was hurting enough as it was. He didn’t need to make things worse with a kiss. But then Sarah-Jane pulled her face even closer and…
“Oh-ho-ho-ho….he-he-he…ha-ha-ha…and I thought MY jokes were bad,” said a familiar husky voice as a behemoth of a man cast his shadow over Oswald and Sarah-Jane, completely breaking up their loving moment.
Miss Bradley’s breathing quickened while Oswald’s was deeper and hoarser. The little guy clenched his fists, furrowed his brows, and tightened his teeth. “Wacey…this is neither the time nor the place for your sick and twisted bullshit. We’re in a graveyard, for shit’s sake!”
“Oh, I think this is the perfect time and place for this, little guy. We ARE in a graveyard. The only thing that’s missing is a tombstone with your name on it. Who knows? Maybe I’ll carve one for your newfound girlfriend over here.”
