Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 74
November 16, 2017
Street Sleeper
Johnny De Morgan’s pick strummed delicately across his guitar strings and created a heavenly lullaby for those walking the streets at night. He too could feel the heaviness of his eyelids and the quicksand-like pull underneath his body. Yet he continued to strum his beautiful melodies as the snow gently poured into his guitar case, barely a single gold coin occupying this space. Strangers walked by with their chins tucked into their chests, not giving Johnny the slightest glance.
The night sky blanketed the city in midnight shadows. Johnny wished he too had a blanket of some kind, but all that kept him minimally warm was his checkered overcoat, striped scarf, and thin layers underneath. He struggled to keep his fingers steady in this shiver-inducing weather. Sometimes his melodies would echo awkwardly across the street corner because of his shaking. Johnny stopped playing and gripped the neck of his guitar like he was actually strangling someone. He held the instrument above his head like he was going to smash the fucking thing to pieces.
“Johnny, no!” shouted a feminine voice off to the side. The busker’s eyes must have been too frosty to notice her at first, but that beautiful voice could have only belonged to the elven rogue Debra Lynch. Light green skin, thick layers of black wool, wavy blue hair, and a cap over her scalp: she was unmistakable at this point. She had the same weary and sorrowful expression in her damp eyes that Johnny did. That made her even more beautiful (not that Johnny would ever tell her something like that).
“Johnny, you can’t give up yet. You’ll freeze to death out here if you don’t keep playing,” begged Debra.
“I don’t know, Debra,” said Johnny with his head hung low. “Does it really matter anymore how good I am with this stupid thing? Nobody’s paying attention. Everybody just wants to walk on by like I’m some sort of fucking monster. Forget it, Debra, I’m done with this shit.”
“So what would you rather do? Starve to death?” pleaded Debra while cupping her hands over Johnny’s arm. “You don’t have a choice in the matter. It’s either this or death. Wait a minute…you’re not actually considering…” The elf’s voice grew shaky with those last few words.
“Like you said, Debbie-Cakes: I don’t have a choice in the matter,” said Johnny with more coldness than the snowflakes pounding down on him. “I can stand out here and freeze like a motherfucker playing for pennies…or I can just fall asleep in my own shallow grave. Never have to wake up again. Never have to deal with these ignorant people. Never have to worry about where my next meal’s coming from. Sounds like heaven to me.”
Debra smacked Johnny in the back of his head and messed up his black puffy hairdo. “I don’t ever want to hear you talk about that nonsense again! If you just fuck off the face of this earth, what am I supposed to do for the rest of my life? I need you, Johnny. We need each other!”
Tears welled up in Johnny’s frosty eyes as he said, “Sorry, I’m just a little frustrated, that’s all. God, what I wouldn’t do for a hot bowl of soup and a fucking blanket! Is that too much to ask for?!”
The argument came to an abrupt end when Johnny and Debra’s eyes zeroed in on a heavyset orc strutting down the streets. His leather armor, bloody war paint, and gigantic sword sheathed on his back gave him the aura of an undisputed champion. The burdensome sack of gold coins on his belt caused Johnny and Debra to snap awake with secretive excitement. Johnny strummed his guitar much more vigorously than before in hopes that the rock and roll music would entice this brutish warrior.
The orc attempted to skate on by, but Johnny and Debra blocked his path with the biggest of grins. Debra even rubbed her gloved fingers together to signify what she and her friend wanted. “Fuck off and die!” shouted the beastly warrior as he shoved Johnny into a row of rubbish bins.
“Hey!” belted Debra. “Who the hell do you think you are pushing a defenseless man like that?!” When the orc refused to listen, the elf grabbed him by the thick wrist and jerked him over for attention. “I’m talking to you, you gigantic sack of shit!”
“Debra, wait!” pleaded Johnny as he picked himself and his guitar off the ground. “That’s Link Rotunda! He’s a cage fighting champion! You’re not going to get any gold from him by calling him a sack of shit! Show some respect!”
Link’s rotten grin coincided with Debra’s fiery glare as the orc said, “That’s better! That’s what I like to see: people taking initiative!” He pointed his sausage index finger at Debra and said, “You could learn something from a guy like him!” The elf hmphed and folded her arms, never releasing her death stare from the gigantic bully. “Now then, where were we? Ah yes! You want some of this gold, sonny boy? You want to eat tonight? You’re going to have to earn it! Forget that stupid hipster guitar! You’re going to dance for your supper!”
“He will do no such thing!” grunted Debra before being held at bay by Link’s massive arm.
“What do you say, you sweet little boy? Are you going to dance or what?” asked Link with a devilish smirk. Despite Debra’s angry protests, Johnny tossed aside his guitar and danced around like a monkey attempting ballet. Link’s throaty laughter caused Debra to hold her face in her hands in sheer embarrassment. “Good one, good one! Now put the garbage can on your head! Do it, monkey boy!”
Sure enough, Johnny heaved a garbage can over himself and danced around some more, Debra shaking her head the entire time and Link laughing it up with a few knee slaps to boot. “How am I doing, Mr. Rotunda?”
“Oh, you’re doing great, my friend! You’re going to be a rich motherfucker in no time at all! Just one more thing and you’ll have all the gold you want! Take off that silly garbage can…and suck my dick!”
The monkey dancing was replaced with a frozen stillness and silent weeping underneath the garbage can. He slowly pulled off the bin and revealed an expression full of shock and despondency. “Is that what you really want, Mr. Rotunda? I’ll do it if that’s what you want.”
“This is bullshit!” shouted Debra as she picked up the fallen rubbish bin and tossed it at Link.
The orc slashed it in half with one wave of his newly unsheathed sword. Garbage scattered across the ground and blew away in the winter breeze. Johnny silently asked Debra what the fuck she was doing and elf stood her ground with clenched fists and a raw attitude.
Meanwhile, Link just laughed it off and said, “I guess you don’t really want hot soup after all. It’s a shame, because I could have given you more soup in that one BJ than any restaurant. It’s saltier too! And tastier! Or so I’ve been told!” Link sheathed his sword, waved goodbye, and chuckled, “Keep saving up!” He turned heel and strutted away until the nighttime shadows covered him completely.
Johnny’s cheeks quivered and his eyes cascaded as he struggled to say, “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? He was our meal ticket!”
Debra’s angry breathing intensified to where this winter weather could be confused for a boiling summertime hell. She grabbed Johnny by his overcoat and shoved him against a brick wall. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” raged the elf. “Do you really think he was going to pay you all that money to humiliate yourself like that? Bullshit, he would have disappeared like a fart in the wind! I know you’re a homeless man looking for change, but you should never have to lower yourself like that just for a half ass chance at getting paid! I don’t care if Link Rotunda is the champion of the fucking universe! He’s a bully first and a humanitarian last! How do you think he wins so many of those fights?!”
Johnny snorted loose snot up his nose and swallowed before sobbing, “I’ll take a small chance of getting paid over no chance any day of the week.”
Debra slammed Johnny back first against the wall and raised her fist in the air as though she was ready to knock a few teeth loose. “I should turn that fucking face of yours inside out for saying shit like that! I should rip your brains out through your eye sockets and eat that for dinner instead of some poor man’s soup!”
Johnny De Morgan could feel his insides turning into jelly and his bladder and bowels loosening while anticipating the stinging fist that would eventually shatter his skull into snowflakes. The tension in his stomach made him ill. His skin turned pasty white. He shook harder than when he was struggling for warmth.
And then Debra said, “I’ve got a better idea than that” before showering her victim with a handful of golden coins. Johnny could finally breathe a heavy sigh of relief like a whirlwind of seething pain coming out of his mouth. His elf compatriot brushed his checkerboard coat off and said, “The only way you’ll ever eat with me tonight is if you never pull that shit again. You’re my best friend. I hate seeing you in pain like that. Link was never going to give you those gold coins, so I snatched them from him while he was busy laughing like a fucking hyena.”
Johnny and Debra embraced one another and gave their bodies enough warmth to last through two more winters. It wasn’t just physical warmth that Johnny felt throughout his body. It was that special warm fuzzy feeling of knowing his best friend had his back through thick and thin (even if she did scare the shit out of him). Johnny could picture the bowl of soup sliding down his throat and soothing his frosty wounds. Broccoli cheddar soup from a garlic bread bowl. Thank you, Mr. Rotunda. Thank you so much!
The night sky blanketed the city in midnight shadows. Johnny wished he too had a blanket of some kind, but all that kept him minimally warm was his checkered overcoat, striped scarf, and thin layers underneath. He struggled to keep his fingers steady in this shiver-inducing weather. Sometimes his melodies would echo awkwardly across the street corner because of his shaking. Johnny stopped playing and gripped the neck of his guitar like he was actually strangling someone. He held the instrument above his head like he was going to smash the fucking thing to pieces.
“Johnny, no!” shouted a feminine voice off to the side. The busker’s eyes must have been too frosty to notice her at first, but that beautiful voice could have only belonged to the elven rogue Debra Lynch. Light green skin, thick layers of black wool, wavy blue hair, and a cap over her scalp: she was unmistakable at this point. She had the same weary and sorrowful expression in her damp eyes that Johnny did. That made her even more beautiful (not that Johnny would ever tell her something like that).
“Johnny, you can’t give up yet. You’ll freeze to death out here if you don’t keep playing,” begged Debra.
“I don’t know, Debra,” said Johnny with his head hung low. “Does it really matter anymore how good I am with this stupid thing? Nobody’s paying attention. Everybody just wants to walk on by like I’m some sort of fucking monster. Forget it, Debra, I’m done with this shit.”
“So what would you rather do? Starve to death?” pleaded Debra while cupping her hands over Johnny’s arm. “You don’t have a choice in the matter. It’s either this or death. Wait a minute…you’re not actually considering…” The elf’s voice grew shaky with those last few words.
“Like you said, Debbie-Cakes: I don’t have a choice in the matter,” said Johnny with more coldness than the snowflakes pounding down on him. “I can stand out here and freeze like a motherfucker playing for pennies…or I can just fall asleep in my own shallow grave. Never have to wake up again. Never have to deal with these ignorant people. Never have to worry about where my next meal’s coming from. Sounds like heaven to me.”
Debra smacked Johnny in the back of his head and messed up his black puffy hairdo. “I don’t ever want to hear you talk about that nonsense again! If you just fuck off the face of this earth, what am I supposed to do for the rest of my life? I need you, Johnny. We need each other!”
Tears welled up in Johnny’s frosty eyes as he said, “Sorry, I’m just a little frustrated, that’s all. God, what I wouldn’t do for a hot bowl of soup and a fucking blanket! Is that too much to ask for?!”
The argument came to an abrupt end when Johnny and Debra’s eyes zeroed in on a heavyset orc strutting down the streets. His leather armor, bloody war paint, and gigantic sword sheathed on his back gave him the aura of an undisputed champion. The burdensome sack of gold coins on his belt caused Johnny and Debra to snap awake with secretive excitement. Johnny strummed his guitar much more vigorously than before in hopes that the rock and roll music would entice this brutish warrior.
The orc attempted to skate on by, but Johnny and Debra blocked his path with the biggest of grins. Debra even rubbed her gloved fingers together to signify what she and her friend wanted. “Fuck off and die!” shouted the beastly warrior as he shoved Johnny into a row of rubbish bins.
“Hey!” belted Debra. “Who the hell do you think you are pushing a defenseless man like that?!” When the orc refused to listen, the elf grabbed him by the thick wrist and jerked him over for attention. “I’m talking to you, you gigantic sack of shit!”
“Debra, wait!” pleaded Johnny as he picked himself and his guitar off the ground. “That’s Link Rotunda! He’s a cage fighting champion! You’re not going to get any gold from him by calling him a sack of shit! Show some respect!”
Link’s rotten grin coincided with Debra’s fiery glare as the orc said, “That’s better! That’s what I like to see: people taking initiative!” He pointed his sausage index finger at Debra and said, “You could learn something from a guy like him!” The elf hmphed and folded her arms, never releasing her death stare from the gigantic bully. “Now then, where were we? Ah yes! You want some of this gold, sonny boy? You want to eat tonight? You’re going to have to earn it! Forget that stupid hipster guitar! You’re going to dance for your supper!”
“He will do no such thing!” grunted Debra before being held at bay by Link’s massive arm.
“What do you say, you sweet little boy? Are you going to dance or what?” asked Link with a devilish smirk. Despite Debra’s angry protests, Johnny tossed aside his guitar and danced around like a monkey attempting ballet. Link’s throaty laughter caused Debra to hold her face in her hands in sheer embarrassment. “Good one, good one! Now put the garbage can on your head! Do it, monkey boy!”
Sure enough, Johnny heaved a garbage can over himself and danced around some more, Debra shaking her head the entire time and Link laughing it up with a few knee slaps to boot. “How am I doing, Mr. Rotunda?”
“Oh, you’re doing great, my friend! You’re going to be a rich motherfucker in no time at all! Just one more thing and you’ll have all the gold you want! Take off that silly garbage can…and suck my dick!”
The monkey dancing was replaced with a frozen stillness and silent weeping underneath the garbage can. He slowly pulled off the bin and revealed an expression full of shock and despondency. “Is that what you really want, Mr. Rotunda? I’ll do it if that’s what you want.”
“This is bullshit!” shouted Debra as she picked up the fallen rubbish bin and tossed it at Link.
The orc slashed it in half with one wave of his newly unsheathed sword. Garbage scattered across the ground and blew away in the winter breeze. Johnny silently asked Debra what the fuck she was doing and elf stood her ground with clenched fists and a raw attitude.
Meanwhile, Link just laughed it off and said, “I guess you don’t really want hot soup after all. It’s a shame, because I could have given you more soup in that one BJ than any restaurant. It’s saltier too! And tastier! Or so I’ve been told!” Link sheathed his sword, waved goodbye, and chuckled, “Keep saving up!” He turned heel and strutted away until the nighttime shadows covered him completely.
Johnny’s cheeks quivered and his eyes cascaded as he struggled to say, “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? He was our meal ticket!”
Debra’s angry breathing intensified to where this winter weather could be confused for a boiling summertime hell. She grabbed Johnny by his overcoat and shoved him against a brick wall. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!” raged the elf. “Do you really think he was going to pay you all that money to humiliate yourself like that? Bullshit, he would have disappeared like a fart in the wind! I know you’re a homeless man looking for change, but you should never have to lower yourself like that just for a half ass chance at getting paid! I don’t care if Link Rotunda is the champion of the fucking universe! He’s a bully first and a humanitarian last! How do you think he wins so many of those fights?!”
Johnny snorted loose snot up his nose and swallowed before sobbing, “I’ll take a small chance of getting paid over no chance any day of the week.”
Debra slammed Johnny back first against the wall and raised her fist in the air as though she was ready to knock a few teeth loose. “I should turn that fucking face of yours inside out for saying shit like that! I should rip your brains out through your eye sockets and eat that for dinner instead of some poor man’s soup!”
Johnny De Morgan could feel his insides turning into jelly and his bladder and bowels loosening while anticipating the stinging fist that would eventually shatter his skull into snowflakes. The tension in his stomach made him ill. His skin turned pasty white. He shook harder than when he was struggling for warmth.
And then Debra said, “I’ve got a better idea than that” before showering her victim with a handful of golden coins. Johnny could finally breathe a heavy sigh of relief like a whirlwind of seething pain coming out of his mouth. His elf compatriot brushed his checkerboard coat off and said, “The only way you’ll ever eat with me tonight is if you never pull that shit again. You’re my best friend. I hate seeing you in pain like that. Link was never going to give you those gold coins, so I snatched them from him while he was busy laughing like a fucking hyena.”
Johnny and Debra embraced one another and gave their bodies enough warmth to last through two more winters. It wasn’t just physical warmth that Johnny felt throughout his body. It was that special warm fuzzy feeling of knowing his best friend had his back through thick and thin (even if she did scare the shit out of him). Johnny could picture the bowl of soup sliding down his throat and soothing his frosty wounds. Broccoli cheddar soup from a garlic bread bowl. Thank you, Mr. Rotunda. Thank you so much!
November 15, 2017
Is That What It Takes?
VERSE 1
No one in this world is untouchable
Even less people are bulletproof
Turning that shit up to eleven
It’s what it takes to smash the glass roof
CHORUS
Is that what it takes to get some fame?
To use the power hungry’s names in vain?
Is that what it takes to climb the ladder?
To be slicker than a load of baby batter?
Is that what it takes to cash my checks?
To be more offensive than bestial sex?
You ignore the rest of my achievements
Gaze into the microscope at my demons!
VERSE 2
If I would have known this years ago
I’d have my own internet radio show
Spewing off at the mouth like dragon fire
While faceless callers label me a liar
CHORUS
Is that what it takes to get some fame?
To use the power hungry’s names in vain?
Is that what it takes to climb the ladder?
To be slicker than a load of baby batter?
Is that what it takes to cash my checks?
To be more offensive than bestial sex?
You ignore the rest of my achievements
Gaze into the microscope at my demons!
VERSE 3
I could apologize until the end of time
I could pay off that heavy ass fine
Drop to my knees and beg you, “Please”
It wouldn’t be enough to wash off the sleaze
You never apologized for your own sins
Throw your death threats in the rubbish bin
Everyone around you is a precious snowflake
The news of your hypocrisy must be so fake
CHORUS
Is that what it takes to get some fame?
To use the power hungry’s names in vain?
Is that what it takes to climb the ladder?
To be slicker than a load of baby batter?
Is that what it takes to cash my checks?
To be more offensive than bestial sex?
You ignore the rest of my achievements
Gaze into the microscope at my demons!
FINAL VERSE
For whatever it’s worth on this scorching earth
I apologize for the very idea of my birth
I don’t mean it, but neither do you
Keep on screaming until your face is blue
No one in this world is untouchable
Even less people are bulletproof
Turning that shit up to eleven
It’s what it takes to smash the glass roof
CHORUS
Is that what it takes to get some fame?
To use the power hungry’s names in vain?
Is that what it takes to climb the ladder?
To be slicker than a load of baby batter?
Is that what it takes to cash my checks?
To be more offensive than bestial sex?
You ignore the rest of my achievements
Gaze into the microscope at my demons!
VERSE 2
If I would have known this years ago
I’d have my own internet radio show
Spewing off at the mouth like dragon fire
While faceless callers label me a liar
CHORUS
Is that what it takes to get some fame?
To use the power hungry’s names in vain?
Is that what it takes to climb the ladder?
To be slicker than a load of baby batter?
Is that what it takes to cash my checks?
To be more offensive than bestial sex?
You ignore the rest of my achievements
Gaze into the microscope at my demons!
VERSE 3
I could apologize until the end of time
I could pay off that heavy ass fine
Drop to my knees and beg you, “Please”
It wouldn’t be enough to wash off the sleaze
You never apologized for your own sins
Throw your death threats in the rubbish bin
Everyone around you is a precious snowflake
The news of your hypocrisy must be so fake
CHORUS
Is that what it takes to get some fame?
To use the power hungry’s names in vain?
Is that what it takes to climb the ladder?
To be slicker than a load of baby batter?
Is that what it takes to cash my checks?
To be more offensive than bestial sex?
You ignore the rest of my achievements
Gaze into the microscope at my demons!
FINAL VERSE
For whatever it’s worth on this scorching earth
I apologize for the very idea of my birth
I don’t mean it, but neither do you
Keep on screaming until your face is blue
November 14, 2017
50/50 Booking
***50/50 BOOKING***
When you see the title of this blog entry, you’re probably thinking to yourself, “Man, this guy can’t shut up about wrestling!” What can I say? We all have our obsessions. But it’s true: 50/50 booking is a wrestling buzzword. However, it can apply to any piece of fiction regardless of genre. 50/50 booking is when the hero and the villain have an equal number of victories against each other. In terms of wrestling, it makes the entire roster equal to each other and nobody becomes wildly popular. However, in mainstream fiction, it could mean something entirely different.
Most of the time, we’re resigned to the idea that the hero will win in the end and get his just rewards. So if you’re doing 50/50 booking in your novel, then you’re just telegraphing the hero’s victory. What’s one more victory going to mean? It’s even worse when the hero wins all the time and rarely loses, which is why a lot of readers prefer their heroes to be average joes instead of muscle-bound ass-kickers. How do you relate to someone with a constant string of victories?
To use an example from my own novella Occupy Wrestling, Mitch McLeod could technically be accused of having a Gary-Stu win-loss record. While he wins most of his fights, there are other ways in which he’s losing. His relationship with Debra Winter is falling apart, he can’t trust a neutral referee like Rosie Rogers, his allies are getting mauled left and right, he’s no closer to solving the mystery of where these monsters are coming from, and most importantly, his body is breaking down with every “victory”, if you can call them that. Does winning in one department and losing in several others constitute 50/50 booking? You be the judge. Buy a copy of Occupy Wrestling on Amazon today! Okay, that was pretty shameless, I agree.
But then you have scenarios where the villain racks up most of the victories and makes justice for the hero seem impossible. By doing this, you’re definitely giving your hero an obstacle worthy of conquering. But if the villain wins too often, then nobody’s going to believe it when the hero finally achieves victory. The villain could beat the shit out of the hero for an hour and a half, but are you going to believe it if the hero suddenly wins with a knife to the back?
Truth be told, there is no right or wrong answer to the 50/50 debate when it comes to normal fiction as long as the ultimate decision you make is believable and relatable to your audience. If there is a right or wrong answer, I’d love to hear what it is. Obviously, the answer is going to be different depending on who the hero is. Is the hero an average joe or a beefy warrior? Or maybe he’s somewhere in between those two extremes. Maybe while everyone around him has magical powers, he’s just a barroom brawler who’s only fought a handful of times. I’d love to hear your guys’ philosophies on 50/50 booking and how it relates to your personal stories. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***POISON TONGUE TALES 2: THE RIGHT TO REMAIN PSYCHOTIC***
I’m only one story away from this collection being complete and ready to critique. After “Street Sleeper”, I’m moving onto another novel called “Puberty X Piracy” (whether or not I post those chapters online is up to the admins and their views on extreme sexual content). Until then, here’s the synopsis for Poison Tongue Tales 2’s final story:
CHARACTERS:
1. Johnny De Morgan, Human Busker
2. Link Rotunda, Orc Warrior
3. Debra Lynch, Elf Rogue
PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.
SYNOPSIS: On a snowy winter evening, homeless street musician Johnny is freezing and exhausted as he tries to play songs for cash on his acoustic guitar. His guitar case is shallow with money and his enthusiasm for music is dwindling fast. Link Rotunda, a prizefighter, has just won a massive amount of money during a championship match, so Johnny desperately tries to cater to him with his music. Link laughs at and bullies Johnny while telling him to “get a real job”, much to the anger of fellow homeless beggar Debra Lynch. Link is much bigger and stronger than both of them, but Debra won’t allow Johnny to be pushed around. Johnny still tries to beg for money seeing as how he feels it’s his only real chance at getting a hot meal and a bed that evening.
FUN FACT: Link Rotunda will be the next Dark Fantasy Warrior that I draw. He used to be a Dungeons & Dragons non-player character, but now he’s a short story character who will bring the PTT2 series home.
***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
VIC MACKEY: Ronnie and I are going to have fed badges, you and queen bitch will be serving double life sentences, and I’ll have full custody of Jackson.
SHANE VENDRELL: You leave my family out of this!
VIC MACKEY: I’ll send you a post card from Space Mountain.
-The Shield-
When you see the title of this blog entry, you’re probably thinking to yourself, “Man, this guy can’t shut up about wrestling!” What can I say? We all have our obsessions. But it’s true: 50/50 booking is a wrestling buzzword. However, it can apply to any piece of fiction regardless of genre. 50/50 booking is when the hero and the villain have an equal number of victories against each other. In terms of wrestling, it makes the entire roster equal to each other and nobody becomes wildly popular. However, in mainstream fiction, it could mean something entirely different.
Most of the time, we’re resigned to the idea that the hero will win in the end and get his just rewards. So if you’re doing 50/50 booking in your novel, then you’re just telegraphing the hero’s victory. What’s one more victory going to mean? It’s even worse when the hero wins all the time and rarely loses, which is why a lot of readers prefer their heroes to be average joes instead of muscle-bound ass-kickers. How do you relate to someone with a constant string of victories?
To use an example from my own novella Occupy Wrestling, Mitch McLeod could technically be accused of having a Gary-Stu win-loss record. While he wins most of his fights, there are other ways in which he’s losing. His relationship with Debra Winter is falling apart, he can’t trust a neutral referee like Rosie Rogers, his allies are getting mauled left and right, he’s no closer to solving the mystery of where these monsters are coming from, and most importantly, his body is breaking down with every “victory”, if you can call them that. Does winning in one department and losing in several others constitute 50/50 booking? You be the judge. Buy a copy of Occupy Wrestling on Amazon today! Okay, that was pretty shameless, I agree.
But then you have scenarios where the villain racks up most of the victories and makes justice for the hero seem impossible. By doing this, you’re definitely giving your hero an obstacle worthy of conquering. But if the villain wins too often, then nobody’s going to believe it when the hero finally achieves victory. The villain could beat the shit out of the hero for an hour and a half, but are you going to believe it if the hero suddenly wins with a knife to the back?
Truth be told, there is no right or wrong answer to the 50/50 debate when it comes to normal fiction as long as the ultimate decision you make is believable and relatable to your audience. If there is a right or wrong answer, I’d love to hear what it is. Obviously, the answer is going to be different depending on who the hero is. Is the hero an average joe or a beefy warrior? Or maybe he’s somewhere in between those two extremes. Maybe while everyone around him has magical powers, he’s just a barroom brawler who’s only fought a handful of times. I’d love to hear your guys’ philosophies on 50/50 booking and how it relates to your personal stories. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***POISON TONGUE TALES 2: THE RIGHT TO REMAIN PSYCHOTIC***
I’m only one story away from this collection being complete and ready to critique. After “Street Sleeper”, I’m moving onto another novel called “Puberty X Piracy” (whether or not I post those chapters online is up to the admins and their views on extreme sexual content). Until then, here’s the synopsis for Poison Tongue Tales 2’s final story:
CHARACTERS:
1. Johnny De Morgan, Human Busker
2. Link Rotunda, Orc Warrior
3. Debra Lynch, Elf Rogue
PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.
SYNOPSIS: On a snowy winter evening, homeless street musician Johnny is freezing and exhausted as he tries to play songs for cash on his acoustic guitar. His guitar case is shallow with money and his enthusiasm for music is dwindling fast. Link Rotunda, a prizefighter, has just won a massive amount of money during a championship match, so Johnny desperately tries to cater to him with his music. Link laughs at and bullies Johnny while telling him to “get a real job”, much to the anger of fellow homeless beggar Debra Lynch. Link is much bigger and stronger than both of them, but Debra won’t allow Johnny to be pushed around. Johnny still tries to beg for money seeing as how he feels it’s his only real chance at getting a hot meal and a bed that evening.
FUN FACT: Link Rotunda will be the next Dark Fantasy Warrior that I draw. He used to be a Dungeons & Dragons non-player character, but now he’s a short story character who will bring the PTT2 series home.
***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
VIC MACKEY: Ronnie and I are going to have fed badges, you and queen bitch will be serving double life sentences, and I’ll have full custody of Jackson.
SHANE VENDRELL: You leave my family out of this!
VIC MACKEY: I’ll send you a post card from Space Mountain.
-The Shield-
November 9, 2017
King of Elves and Trees
Every strike of the axe against the Black Forest trees sent a shiver of rage up and down Saito Kabaka’s spine. The gigantic lumberjack’s swings created the deepest wooshing noises and seemed capable of tearing off a person’s head with one slice. But instead of human heads, the massive battleaxe chipped away quickly and efficiently at the thick redwoods. Saito watched from the bushes with a contorted frown, dying on the inside with every chop. This was ecocide. This was murder. The lumberjack wasn’t just chopping down trees; he was violating the spirits of this very forest.
After a while of nausea and gritted teeth, Saito couldn’t stand idly by any longer. When the elf samurai chucked one of his daggers, he forgot instantly that this man-beast was twice his size and ten times as lethal. The dagger missed its mark, but the flannel shirt and jeans wearing titan stumbled back a few paces and sucked in air at a rapid cadence. Saito’s fiery eyes bore a hole through the giant’s nervous baby blues. Decked out in golden leather armor, donning a glowing green crown of plant roots, and drawing his slender katana, the forest guardian made his presence and fury known.
“I don’t intrude into your home and eat your food. I don’t laze on your bed and fuck your wife. I don’t snatch your valuables from underneath your booger-encrusted schnoz. So why then do you believe it’s acceptable to come to my home and cut down my trees?” asked Saito while pointing his blade at the lumberjack. He slashed at the air and continued his slithery oratory with, “This forest is not your urban dystopia. It doesn’t exist so that you could build fancy hotels and burger joints for overfed human scumbags! Take that piece of shit you call a weapon and leave this place before I rip your intestines out and lynch you with them from the same tree you tried to cut down!”
The baldheaded beast of a man’s eyes darted frantically in every direction while cold sweat poured down his forehead. And then the shtick was over when he laughed his ass off and slapped his thick knees with an echoing thud. “Are you kidding me? A teeny tiny elf like you is going to lynch me with my own intestines? Goddamn, you’re a funny motherfucker!” The yuks poured out of his mouth like verbal diarrhea as he struggled to say, “Listen, man: that environmental bullshit is overrated. Take off that stupid hat; it looks fucking ridiculous on you! You might as well walk around with a salad bowl on your head!”
The lumberjack’s chuckle-filled tirade was cut off by a flying shuriken that narrowly missed his ear. But instead of feigning fear again, he dropped his axe and gave an even less sincere double slap on his cheeks with a wide open mouth.
“Perfect timing, Tifa, as usual,” smiled Saito. Floating down to the dirt like a feather was the silken dress wearing, golden haired female elf counterpart Tifa Croft, armed with claw bracers around her wrists and wearing a plant root crown like her fellow guardian. The two of them shared a peck on the lips much to the overdramatic coughing dismay of the seven-foot lumberjack.
“You guys actually fuck in this forest?” the man giant asked. “Is that how these trees grow, by the two of you sprinkling your seeds all over the ground?”
Tifa folded her arms and treated the lumberjack to a ball-shrinking death stare. “You have the sense of humor of a fucking five year old and probably the intelligence of one too. Saito here is the King of Elves and Trees and I am his Queen. Respect the crowns, you ignorant little shit!”
The lumberjack waved his arm dismissively and scoffed, “Well, I see a whole lot of trees out here, but very many elves, so I guess this ugly ass forest could do with some urban development.” He heaved his axe in the air and pointed at various parts of the forest with his weapon. “We can put a Mickey D’s over there, a Chicas Bonitas over there, and maybe a school all the way over there. You liberal whack jobs like schools, right?”
Saito swung his katana in the air and slithered, “And what do you plan on teaching this new generation of ignoramuses: how to eat a whole bucket of fried chicken in less than thirty seconds? Maybe that’s something you can teach the elves of this forest, who will be here sooner than you think.”
“You’d better hope those little pointy-eared fags run for the hills,” smirked the lumberjack while leaning his face into Saito’s. “I wasn’t planning on committing genocide today, but I just might change my mind if the two of you don’t fuck off and leave me to my work. I’m getting a lot of money for this project and I’ll be damned if you two hippies rip it away from me and my family! Remember the name of Rudiger Seran, but fuck it, you two are going to call me Daddy by the time I’m done with you!”
Rudiger threw the first swing of his axe and would have covered the whole forest in blood if Saito and Tifa didn’t duck out of the way in time. The two elves rolled and flipped their way out of every slash that the giant threw. They bounced off of trees hand in hand and found refuge at the top branches. They smiled down upon Rudiger while the lumberjack shouted, “You two cowards better get your asses down here and fight me before I cut this fucker down!”
Saito whispered in Tifa’s pointy ear, “You’ve got the supplies up here right?”
The lovely assassin brushed her hair away and pulled several pinecones out of an otherwise empty bird nest. She grinned, “It wouldn’t be the same without them.” With a wink, a nod, and a kiss, Tifa threw one of the pinecones down upon an unsuspecting Rudiger. The biomass exploded in a flash bang upon making contact with Mr. Seran’s thick skull. The giant hopped and head-banged in pain while belting every swear word known in the English language.
“You’re the best queen a man could ask for,” grinned Saito as he and Tifa threw more flash bang pinecones down upon their assailant. Rudiger tried to smack some of them away like he was playing baseball and managed to hit a few homers out in the distance. Others bounced off of his massive arms and legs while popping like firecrackers. The mighty Seran had struck out and his body ached with redness and scars. The King and Queen hugged each other and laughed like children.
Bruised skin wasn’t the only reason Rudiger was seeing red. He growled through clenched teeth and smacked himself on the cheek so many times he actually bled. His rage became evident in the way he swung his axe at the tree, ripping larger chunks out of the redwood and creating deeper wooshing noises. “Uh-oh!” Tifa quipped while she and Saito held hands and leapt to the next tree just in time for Rudiger’s ecocidal victim to crash to the ground.
Saito’s heart pounded in his chest like a war drum and the cold wetness of Tifa’s hand brought chills racing through his own body. She shook slightly and prompted the king to ask, “Are you okay, my love?”
“I…I think so,” Tifa stuttered before the branch underneath her cracked and crunched, causing her to drop to the forest ground with a resounding thud Saito tried to hold out his hand and grab her, but all he could do was yell, “No!” as his wife crashed and burned. She lied there in the dirt breathing heavily and coughing up a geyser of blood.
Rudiger hung his battleaxe over his shoulder and strutted around Tifa with a shit-eating grin. “I guess that vegan diet isn’t helping you lose enough weight. And people call me a fat ass!” joked the lumberjack while slapping his knee and chuckling again.
Watching Rudiger Seran belittle his wife clouded Saito’s mind with scathing, bloody thoughts. As defenseless as she was, she still threw her claws around in the air hoping to hit something. Her weakness multiplied when Rudiger stomped on Tifa’s hand and crunched it so that it sounded more violent than when he whacked down the tree. Her screams of agony and shame echoed throughout the forest and caused nearby birds to fly away in fear. She tried to slash Rudiger’s thick ankles with her other claw, but that got stomped on too until there was just a bloody heap underneath his work boots.
Saito tried to remain calm and wait for his perfect opportunity to stealthily strike. But Tifa’s screams filled his gut with nuclear heat. Rudiger’s arrogant laughter filled his nerves with flaming gasoline. The more his heart pumped diesel, the more he forgot about the importance of his samurai training. With katana firmly grasped in both hands, he screamed like a demon and leapt on top of Rudiger with the intent to slash him in two vertically.
Saito could feel the ground hurtling at him at a million miles per hour. The landing was going to break his ankles, but not nearly as badly as he was going to break every bone in Rudiger’s body. And then the lumberjack swung his axe and snapped Saito in two from the waist down. The elf samurai could hear his wife roaring his name in pain as his vision went black and his wrecked body bounced off the tree with a deafening splat.
Even as what was left of him slid slowly and slimily down the tree, he could recall Rudiger asking in a mocking tone where all of the elves were at. The now pouring rain soothed Saito’s burning wounds, but it was already too late for the King of Elves and Trees.
The plant root crown slipped off of his sloppy skull and buried itself into the earth below. The rain poured down violently enough to represent the emotions of Mother Nature herself. She continued to weep as Rudiger thoughtlessly cut down more and more of her trees with vicious whacks while mocking her with cries of, “Where are your elves now, bitch?!” Tears of ecocidal agony turned into monsoons and floods. The crowns formerly worn by Tifa and Saito were drenched with nutrition as they began to take root underneath the forest.
The more Rudiger laughed his ass off, the more the roots spread across the ground. Even in the chilling rain, the arrogant giant chopped and chopped like his paycheck was that important too him. Trees crashed to the earth with sickening pounds, so much so that Rudiger was almost done with his work. But as he jokingly wiped away forehead sweat, he took a look around him and saw that his work was only just beginning.
“What the fuck?” he whispered as the tree stumps grew even more beautiful plants. Not redwoods, not roses, not berry-covered bushes, but the one species Rudiger kept asking for this entire time. Ask and ye shall receive in the form of naked green-skinned elves with blistering red eyes and thorn-covered swords. One by one they blossomed from the stumps and groaned like an army of zombies. Rudiger dropped his axe and cowered on the soaked ground, shivering for reasons other than the temperature.
The pathetic display did nothing to back off the hungry doppelganger elves as they chanted in monstrous unison, “You will feed us! You will feed us! You will feed us!” They closer they marched, the brighter their neon red eyes glowed and the more Rudiger shivered and quaked in his clumsy body. And then, the King and Queen’s beloved army of avengers dined upon the giant’s flesh like the entire menu at one of the lumberjack’s planned Mickey D’s. Rudiger’s flesh tasted more delicious than chocolate cake, meatier than a twenty-pound steak, and juicier than a bottle of Ocean Spray. So much for that vegan diet that Tifa Croft always enjoyed.
After a while of nausea and gritted teeth, Saito couldn’t stand idly by any longer. When the elf samurai chucked one of his daggers, he forgot instantly that this man-beast was twice his size and ten times as lethal. The dagger missed its mark, but the flannel shirt and jeans wearing titan stumbled back a few paces and sucked in air at a rapid cadence. Saito’s fiery eyes bore a hole through the giant’s nervous baby blues. Decked out in golden leather armor, donning a glowing green crown of plant roots, and drawing his slender katana, the forest guardian made his presence and fury known.
“I don’t intrude into your home and eat your food. I don’t laze on your bed and fuck your wife. I don’t snatch your valuables from underneath your booger-encrusted schnoz. So why then do you believe it’s acceptable to come to my home and cut down my trees?” asked Saito while pointing his blade at the lumberjack. He slashed at the air and continued his slithery oratory with, “This forest is not your urban dystopia. It doesn’t exist so that you could build fancy hotels and burger joints for overfed human scumbags! Take that piece of shit you call a weapon and leave this place before I rip your intestines out and lynch you with them from the same tree you tried to cut down!”
The baldheaded beast of a man’s eyes darted frantically in every direction while cold sweat poured down his forehead. And then the shtick was over when he laughed his ass off and slapped his thick knees with an echoing thud. “Are you kidding me? A teeny tiny elf like you is going to lynch me with my own intestines? Goddamn, you’re a funny motherfucker!” The yuks poured out of his mouth like verbal diarrhea as he struggled to say, “Listen, man: that environmental bullshit is overrated. Take off that stupid hat; it looks fucking ridiculous on you! You might as well walk around with a salad bowl on your head!”
The lumberjack’s chuckle-filled tirade was cut off by a flying shuriken that narrowly missed his ear. But instead of feigning fear again, he dropped his axe and gave an even less sincere double slap on his cheeks with a wide open mouth.
“Perfect timing, Tifa, as usual,” smiled Saito. Floating down to the dirt like a feather was the silken dress wearing, golden haired female elf counterpart Tifa Croft, armed with claw bracers around her wrists and wearing a plant root crown like her fellow guardian. The two of them shared a peck on the lips much to the overdramatic coughing dismay of the seven-foot lumberjack.
“You guys actually fuck in this forest?” the man giant asked. “Is that how these trees grow, by the two of you sprinkling your seeds all over the ground?”
Tifa folded her arms and treated the lumberjack to a ball-shrinking death stare. “You have the sense of humor of a fucking five year old and probably the intelligence of one too. Saito here is the King of Elves and Trees and I am his Queen. Respect the crowns, you ignorant little shit!”
The lumberjack waved his arm dismissively and scoffed, “Well, I see a whole lot of trees out here, but very many elves, so I guess this ugly ass forest could do with some urban development.” He heaved his axe in the air and pointed at various parts of the forest with his weapon. “We can put a Mickey D’s over there, a Chicas Bonitas over there, and maybe a school all the way over there. You liberal whack jobs like schools, right?”
Saito swung his katana in the air and slithered, “And what do you plan on teaching this new generation of ignoramuses: how to eat a whole bucket of fried chicken in less than thirty seconds? Maybe that’s something you can teach the elves of this forest, who will be here sooner than you think.”
“You’d better hope those little pointy-eared fags run for the hills,” smirked the lumberjack while leaning his face into Saito’s. “I wasn’t planning on committing genocide today, but I just might change my mind if the two of you don’t fuck off and leave me to my work. I’m getting a lot of money for this project and I’ll be damned if you two hippies rip it away from me and my family! Remember the name of Rudiger Seran, but fuck it, you two are going to call me Daddy by the time I’m done with you!”
Rudiger threw the first swing of his axe and would have covered the whole forest in blood if Saito and Tifa didn’t duck out of the way in time. The two elves rolled and flipped their way out of every slash that the giant threw. They bounced off of trees hand in hand and found refuge at the top branches. They smiled down upon Rudiger while the lumberjack shouted, “You two cowards better get your asses down here and fight me before I cut this fucker down!”
Saito whispered in Tifa’s pointy ear, “You’ve got the supplies up here right?”
The lovely assassin brushed her hair away and pulled several pinecones out of an otherwise empty bird nest. She grinned, “It wouldn’t be the same without them.” With a wink, a nod, and a kiss, Tifa threw one of the pinecones down upon an unsuspecting Rudiger. The biomass exploded in a flash bang upon making contact with Mr. Seran’s thick skull. The giant hopped and head-banged in pain while belting every swear word known in the English language.
“You’re the best queen a man could ask for,” grinned Saito as he and Tifa threw more flash bang pinecones down upon their assailant. Rudiger tried to smack some of them away like he was playing baseball and managed to hit a few homers out in the distance. Others bounced off of his massive arms and legs while popping like firecrackers. The mighty Seran had struck out and his body ached with redness and scars. The King and Queen hugged each other and laughed like children.
Bruised skin wasn’t the only reason Rudiger was seeing red. He growled through clenched teeth and smacked himself on the cheek so many times he actually bled. His rage became evident in the way he swung his axe at the tree, ripping larger chunks out of the redwood and creating deeper wooshing noises. “Uh-oh!” Tifa quipped while she and Saito held hands and leapt to the next tree just in time for Rudiger’s ecocidal victim to crash to the ground.
Saito’s heart pounded in his chest like a war drum and the cold wetness of Tifa’s hand brought chills racing through his own body. She shook slightly and prompted the king to ask, “Are you okay, my love?”
“I…I think so,” Tifa stuttered before the branch underneath her cracked and crunched, causing her to drop to the forest ground with a resounding thud Saito tried to hold out his hand and grab her, but all he could do was yell, “No!” as his wife crashed and burned. She lied there in the dirt breathing heavily and coughing up a geyser of blood.
Rudiger hung his battleaxe over his shoulder and strutted around Tifa with a shit-eating grin. “I guess that vegan diet isn’t helping you lose enough weight. And people call me a fat ass!” joked the lumberjack while slapping his knee and chuckling again.
Watching Rudiger Seran belittle his wife clouded Saito’s mind with scathing, bloody thoughts. As defenseless as she was, she still threw her claws around in the air hoping to hit something. Her weakness multiplied when Rudiger stomped on Tifa’s hand and crunched it so that it sounded more violent than when he whacked down the tree. Her screams of agony and shame echoed throughout the forest and caused nearby birds to fly away in fear. She tried to slash Rudiger’s thick ankles with her other claw, but that got stomped on too until there was just a bloody heap underneath his work boots.
Saito tried to remain calm and wait for his perfect opportunity to stealthily strike. But Tifa’s screams filled his gut with nuclear heat. Rudiger’s arrogant laughter filled his nerves with flaming gasoline. The more his heart pumped diesel, the more he forgot about the importance of his samurai training. With katana firmly grasped in both hands, he screamed like a demon and leapt on top of Rudiger with the intent to slash him in two vertically.
Saito could feel the ground hurtling at him at a million miles per hour. The landing was going to break his ankles, but not nearly as badly as he was going to break every bone in Rudiger’s body. And then the lumberjack swung his axe and snapped Saito in two from the waist down. The elf samurai could hear his wife roaring his name in pain as his vision went black and his wrecked body bounced off the tree with a deafening splat.
Even as what was left of him slid slowly and slimily down the tree, he could recall Rudiger asking in a mocking tone where all of the elves were at. The now pouring rain soothed Saito’s burning wounds, but it was already too late for the King of Elves and Trees.
The plant root crown slipped off of his sloppy skull and buried itself into the earth below. The rain poured down violently enough to represent the emotions of Mother Nature herself. She continued to weep as Rudiger thoughtlessly cut down more and more of her trees with vicious whacks while mocking her with cries of, “Where are your elves now, bitch?!” Tears of ecocidal agony turned into monsoons and floods. The crowns formerly worn by Tifa and Saito were drenched with nutrition as they began to take root underneath the forest.
The more Rudiger laughed his ass off, the more the roots spread across the ground. Even in the chilling rain, the arrogant giant chopped and chopped like his paycheck was that important too him. Trees crashed to the earth with sickening pounds, so much so that Rudiger was almost done with his work. But as he jokingly wiped away forehead sweat, he took a look around him and saw that his work was only just beginning.
“What the fuck?” he whispered as the tree stumps grew even more beautiful plants. Not redwoods, not roses, not berry-covered bushes, but the one species Rudiger kept asking for this entire time. Ask and ye shall receive in the form of naked green-skinned elves with blistering red eyes and thorn-covered swords. One by one they blossomed from the stumps and groaned like an army of zombies. Rudiger dropped his axe and cowered on the soaked ground, shivering for reasons other than the temperature.
The pathetic display did nothing to back off the hungry doppelganger elves as they chanted in monstrous unison, “You will feed us! You will feed us! You will feed us!” They closer they marched, the brighter their neon red eyes glowed and the more Rudiger shivered and quaked in his clumsy body. And then, the King and Queen’s beloved army of avengers dined upon the giant’s flesh like the entire menu at one of the lumberjack’s planned Mickey D’s. Rudiger’s flesh tasted more delicious than chocolate cake, meatier than a twenty-pound steak, and juicier than a bottle of Ocean Spray. So much for that vegan diet that Tifa Croft always enjoyed.
November 8, 2017
Old Animals
***OLD ANIMALS***
With winter rapidly approaching, it’s important for animals to have a nice warm place to call home so that they don’t freeze their little tootsies off. Pet shelters always have a large influx of animals coming in that have either been surrendered by a previous owner or living on the streets. Everyone needs a furry friend to give them comfort and love during these chilly times. When you eventually do adopt an animal (adopt, don’t shop), please consider taking in an elderly critter that has probably been at the shelter for a long time.
I know the most common argument against adopting an older animal is that they don’t live long and the new owner’s heart will break easily when the little guy passes. But that’s precisely why these animals need a new place to live: their final years on earth should be happy ones instead of lonely ones. Lots of pettings, lots of naps, and lots of love: that’s what elderly animals need, not loneliness.
Another common argument against adopting senior animals is that they could potentially be hard to take care of due to medical problems or messy behavior. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Most elderly animals just want to lie around and rest their aching bones, so you don’t have to worry about them playing with things they shouldn’t be playing with. As far as medical bills go, that’s a constant no matter what age the animal is. Younger cats have to be fixed so that they don’t reproduce easily. Some of them are so young that they’re not housetrained yet. Housetraining can be a long and arduous process, but you don’t have to worry about that with an experienced cat or dog.
That’s not to say that young animals don’t deserve love, because they certainly do. Animals of all age groups need a warm home to call their own. The point of this blog entry is to not turn away older animals so easily because of the stigmas against them. A furry friend is a furry friend no matter how far into their twilight years they are.
What some of those old doggies would do for a puppiccino right now. A puppiccino is basically just a Starbucks cup filled with whipped cream and nothing more. Dogs loved whipped cream! You know what else they love? Plain double cheeseburgers from McDonald’s without the bun. I once read a nonfiction book about a library cat named Dewey who used to eat Arby’s cheddar roasts during his senior years. These are just small examples of what an elderly animal’s final years could look like if they lived in a happy home. Knowing you gave happy moments to an old animal will ease some of the pain of loss when their time eventually comes. It will still hurt like hell, but love conquers all in the end. So do fond memories.
To use an example from my own life, I currently have an elderly brown kitty named Smokey who spends most of her time napping on my bed. She’s the laziest animal we have, but also the most relaxed and peaceful. Cats don’t get to be nineteen years old by being stressed out all the time. It’s hard for Smokey to feel stressed when she’s getting pettings, love, and Temptations kitty treats on a daily basis. I love the sound of her purring in my ear when I lay next to her. She’s a sweet and dear kitty who brings me happiness every day that she’s alive. When her time comes to cross the Rainbow Bridge, I’ll miss her dearly, but I’ll also be grateful for every memory she’s given me.
Elderly animals need love just as much as their young counterparts. They’re every bit as sweet and snuggly, every bit as cute and cuddly, and a proud and loyal member of your family. Adopting a senior kitty or puppy will be a decision you’ll never regret. You could have your very own Smokey-Pokey for the price of an adoption fee. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***THE CAT WHO ROBBED A BANK***
Speaking of sweet and cuddly animals, the next book I’m going to read and review is another classic from Lilian Jackson Braun’s “Cat Who” series. If I can be honest for a moment, before I started working with Marie Krepps, I’ve been blind to the fact that Ms. Braun does more telling than showing in her novels. There have been times when I considered giving one of her books a mixed grade (three stars). But then the grade improves when I realize how relaxing and laidback reading her books can be, especially on a rainy day like today. According to Good Reads’ math, I’m 20% finished with the book and it’s a light read, so I’ll probably be done with it sooner rather than later.
***POISON TONGUE TALES 2: THE RIGHT TO REMAIN PSYCHOTIC***
I’ll tell you what’s not sweet and cuddly: hardcore violence with a dark fantasy backdrop. That’s what you’re going to get with the second to last story to be written for this series: “King of Elves and Trees”. It goes like this:
CHARACTERS:
1. Saito Kabaka, Elf Samurai
2. Tifa Croft, Elf Assassin
3. Rudiger Seran, Giant Lumberjack
PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.
SYNOPSIS: Rudiger and his team of lumberjacks have been independently contracted to cut down trees in The Black Forest. To protect their forest home, Saito and Tifa slaughter lumberjacks left and right, but meet their biggest challenge when the eight-foot tall Rudiger swings his oversized axe like a madman. The battle becomes even fiercer when Rudiger’s axe ignites into magical fire.
FUN FACT: The title of this story is a lyric from the Within Temptation song “In Perfect Harmony”, though the story itself is nowhere near as peaceful as the song.
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
Because there’s a new story on the horizon, there are going to be some new drawings as well. There won’t be one of Rudiger Seran, because I already drew a picture of him back in 2014 when he was originally a character from my now defunct first draft novel “Fireball Nightmare”. He’s the one who looks like the Big Show from WWE with a chain mail singlet and a big ass battleaxe. He’s also one of the grayscale characters I drew before I purchased colored pencils from Amazon in February 2016. With Rudiger stricken from the list, that just leaves Tifa Croft (guess how I got that name) and Saito Kabaka. I believe I’ll draw Saito first and then Tifa. Sound good?
***WRESTLING DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
JOHN CENA: You came out here with your fly unzipped.
ROMAN REIGNS: I busted it open. I’m the Big Dog.
JOHN CENA: Actually, I was looking to see where your balls were, but you don’t have any.
ROMAN REIGNS: Yeah, you would look for those.
With winter rapidly approaching, it’s important for animals to have a nice warm place to call home so that they don’t freeze their little tootsies off. Pet shelters always have a large influx of animals coming in that have either been surrendered by a previous owner or living on the streets. Everyone needs a furry friend to give them comfort and love during these chilly times. When you eventually do adopt an animal (adopt, don’t shop), please consider taking in an elderly critter that has probably been at the shelter for a long time.
I know the most common argument against adopting an older animal is that they don’t live long and the new owner’s heart will break easily when the little guy passes. But that’s precisely why these animals need a new place to live: their final years on earth should be happy ones instead of lonely ones. Lots of pettings, lots of naps, and lots of love: that’s what elderly animals need, not loneliness.
Another common argument against adopting senior animals is that they could potentially be hard to take care of due to medical problems or messy behavior. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Most elderly animals just want to lie around and rest their aching bones, so you don’t have to worry about them playing with things they shouldn’t be playing with. As far as medical bills go, that’s a constant no matter what age the animal is. Younger cats have to be fixed so that they don’t reproduce easily. Some of them are so young that they’re not housetrained yet. Housetraining can be a long and arduous process, but you don’t have to worry about that with an experienced cat or dog.
That’s not to say that young animals don’t deserve love, because they certainly do. Animals of all age groups need a warm home to call their own. The point of this blog entry is to not turn away older animals so easily because of the stigmas against them. A furry friend is a furry friend no matter how far into their twilight years they are.
What some of those old doggies would do for a puppiccino right now. A puppiccino is basically just a Starbucks cup filled with whipped cream and nothing more. Dogs loved whipped cream! You know what else they love? Plain double cheeseburgers from McDonald’s without the bun. I once read a nonfiction book about a library cat named Dewey who used to eat Arby’s cheddar roasts during his senior years. These are just small examples of what an elderly animal’s final years could look like if they lived in a happy home. Knowing you gave happy moments to an old animal will ease some of the pain of loss when their time eventually comes. It will still hurt like hell, but love conquers all in the end. So do fond memories.
To use an example from my own life, I currently have an elderly brown kitty named Smokey who spends most of her time napping on my bed. She’s the laziest animal we have, but also the most relaxed and peaceful. Cats don’t get to be nineteen years old by being stressed out all the time. It’s hard for Smokey to feel stressed when she’s getting pettings, love, and Temptations kitty treats on a daily basis. I love the sound of her purring in my ear when I lay next to her. She’s a sweet and dear kitty who brings me happiness every day that she’s alive. When her time comes to cross the Rainbow Bridge, I’ll miss her dearly, but I’ll also be grateful for every memory she’s given me.
Elderly animals need love just as much as their young counterparts. They’re every bit as sweet and snuggly, every bit as cute and cuddly, and a proud and loyal member of your family. Adopting a senior kitty or puppy will be a decision you’ll never regret. You could have your very own Smokey-Pokey for the price of an adoption fee. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***THE CAT WHO ROBBED A BANK***
Speaking of sweet and cuddly animals, the next book I’m going to read and review is another classic from Lilian Jackson Braun’s “Cat Who” series. If I can be honest for a moment, before I started working with Marie Krepps, I’ve been blind to the fact that Ms. Braun does more telling than showing in her novels. There have been times when I considered giving one of her books a mixed grade (three stars). But then the grade improves when I realize how relaxing and laidback reading her books can be, especially on a rainy day like today. According to Good Reads’ math, I’m 20% finished with the book and it’s a light read, so I’ll probably be done with it sooner rather than later.
***POISON TONGUE TALES 2: THE RIGHT TO REMAIN PSYCHOTIC***
I’ll tell you what’s not sweet and cuddly: hardcore violence with a dark fantasy backdrop. That’s what you’re going to get with the second to last story to be written for this series: “King of Elves and Trees”. It goes like this:
CHARACTERS:
1. Saito Kabaka, Elf Samurai
2. Tifa Croft, Elf Assassin
3. Rudiger Seran, Giant Lumberjack
PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.
SYNOPSIS: Rudiger and his team of lumberjacks have been independently contracted to cut down trees in The Black Forest. To protect their forest home, Saito and Tifa slaughter lumberjacks left and right, but meet their biggest challenge when the eight-foot tall Rudiger swings his oversized axe like a madman. The battle becomes even fiercer when Rudiger’s axe ignites into magical fire.
FUN FACT: The title of this story is a lyric from the Within Temptation song “In Perfect Harmony”, though the story itself is nowhere near as peaceful as the song.
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
Because there’s a new story on the horizon, there are going to be some new drawings as well. There won’t be one of Rudiger Seran, because I already drew a picture of him back in 2014 when he was originally a character from my now defunct first draft novel “Fireball Nightmare”. He’s the one who looks like the Big Show from WWE with a chain mail singlet and a big ass battleaxe. He’s also one of the grayscale characters I drew before I purchased colored pencils from Amazon in February 2016. With Rudiger stricken from the list, that just leaves Tifa Croft (guess how I got that name) and Saito Kabaka. I believe I’ll draw Saito first and then Tifa. Sound good?
***WRESTLING DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
JOHN CENA: You came out here with your fly unzipped.
ROMAN REIGNS: I busted it open. I’m the Big Dog.
JOHN CENA: Actually, I was looking to see where your balls were, but you don’t have any.
ROMAN REIGNS: Yeah, you would look for those.
November 7, 2017
The Legomancer
“When we find that bitch, she doesn’t get off the shock table,” Dr. Diana Gunn reminded her two orderlies. “Shit, I don’t care if I get the gas chamber; I’m killing that loony toon. We’re going to find her tonight. Not after breakfast, not after Wheel of Fortune, we’re going to find her NOW!”
“She always had a thing for Legos,” said RJ Maddox as he shined a flashlight throughout the parking lot of Toys R Us. The orderly towered over his boss by a shit load of inches, but his menacing scowl commanded fear more often than his brutish muscles.
“She likes to call herself the Legomancer, whatever the hell that is,” said Jimmy Lord as he filled his syringe with a viscous red fluid. Despite his hefty frame, he could easily keep up with his boss and his coworker. All of this walking and not one sign of huffing and puffing.
“Liz McKinnon better goddamn jolly well be in there or I’m having both of your nuts on a silver platter,” belted Dr. Gunn. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. I just want to get her ass back to the hospital and sleep easy tonight. That bitch will be lucky if she sleeps anywhere but a fucking cemetery tonight.”
Diana pulled her taser gun out of her lab coat and flashed some electricity to illuminate the psychotic expression on her face. Her pulsating bloodshot eyes and botched lipstick job would have anybody kneeling on the floor begging for mercy. RJ cracked his knuckles on both hands, every pop sounding like a machinegun bursting during a time of war. Jimmy grinned devilishly as he squirted a small sample of his needle fluid in the air. It was kill or be killed for these mental hospital employees and they were bringing a scorched earth into that darkened Toys R Us.
“Well, how do you like that?” hissed Diana. “She picked the goddamn locks. She always was a crafty little shit. I’ll bet that’s how she got out of her restraints. Not to worry: we’re going to fuck her up so badly she doesn’t even make it to the hospital tonight. That bitch is DOA!”
The scorched earth attitude of the doctor and her orderlies cooled off into a nervous freeze when they marched into the store to see what it had become. “What the fuck?” asked Jimmy Lord as RJ shined the club-sized flashlight around the store. Empty Lego boxes piled high in every corner. Lego sets built as instructed, but with oddly colored bricks. Pink and blue dinosaurs, green and red pirate ships, mismatched minifigures, and orange birds all decorated this playful palace.
“Don’t piss your pants just yet, boys,” warned Diana as she flashed some more electricity. “We’ve dealt with loonies like this before. This shit ain’t new to us.” She contradicted her own statements with a prolonged, “Oh my god!” once she and her boys made it to the middle of the store. Glowing brightly with red and orange plastic tubes, a life size merry-go-round with Lego horses and medieval knights twirled in circles while playing creepy organ music in the background.
“Woo-hoo! Yeah! This is the life!” yapped Liz McKinnon as she rode around on her own creation while waving her hands in the air. She remained in the shadows of the carrousel and then caused her assailants to nearly piss themselves when one of the light tubes revealed her Lego minifigure body in life-size form. The brick legs, the tube arms, the claw-like hands, and the smiling yellow face with wavy brown hair: she had it all.
“Don’t just stand there, guys! Let’s get her!” snapped Diana. Her three person team bum rushed the carrousel like a family of rhinos in a quaking stampede. Liz giggled at them and rode away on her horse towards the back of the store. By the time Diana, RJ, and Jimmy leapt onto the carrousel, the Lego pieces came crashing down on top of them, leaving them buried in plastic rubble. The studs and corners nicked their human victims to where the triple threat looked like they were mauled by street cats.
While Dr. Gunn and Jimmy wallowed in their wounds, RJ Maddox burst out of the pile with his muscled arms in the air and an ursine roar. He kicked his way through the shattered pieces and started picking up Lego sets left and right to smash them into even more pieces. He lifted spaceships in the air and threw them to the ground as hard as he could while screaming, “This is fucking bullshit! I’m going to kill that little bitch!”
During the tall black orderly’s rampage, a pirate ship flew by and crashed against his watermelon skull, opening a gash on the side of his head. He growled in pain and held his wound while glaring at the source of the pain: Liz McKinnon and her ability to levitate Lego sets in the air with her glowing blue hands.
“You people said I was crazy,” lectured Liz while sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Everyone told me that I was too old to play with Legos, that I had responsibilities, that I could never be a kid again. And now here they are sending a three-way sex circle at me in the form of you jack-offs!”
Dr. Diana Gunn shoved the Lego pieces off of herself and pulled Jimmy Lord to his feet before picking up her dropped taser gun and pointing it accusingly at Liz. “You think you’re the only one who misses her childhood?” Diana snapped. “That’s what life is all about, sweetheart! Everybody has to grow up at some point! Everybody has to venture out into the real world! It’s a part of the natural order! But you don’t want to be a normal member of society, so what do you do? You endanger your husband and children with your reckless behavior!”
“Look at you, Dr. Gunn,” mocked Liz. “Trying to debate with a so-called crazy person. Are you sure you’re not itching for a straightjacket yourself? Hell, maybe I can give you some of that shock treatment you gave me for, I don’t know, twenty fucking years!” She levitated one of her spaceships in the air and used its laser cannons to zap Diana’s taser, which sent an electrical storm of agony throughout her convulsing body before she crumpled to the floor.
While Jimmy tended to his boss’s wounds, RJ bolted towards Liz and the two of them gave chase throughout the store. Liz even did some back flips, summersaults, and made some “Hoo-hoo!” noises during her escape. RJ shrieked, “You better pray to god that I don’t catch up to you, you little hooker!” Liz kept up her tilt-a-whirl acrobatics and caused RJ’s blood to boil even further.
Their chase led the two of them through the various isles and into the back of the store, where Mr. Maddox stood in awe of the gigantic Lego castle that Liz crafted for herself. She blew him a kiss before storming past the gates and disappearing behind the shadows. This time RJ cracked his neck on both sides and stomped into the castle after her. He managed to tuck and roll out of the way of dragon statues breathing fire at him as well as knife traps trigged from the ceiling above.
“Is that all you got?!” RJ mocked with his hands spread out in a Jesus Christ pose. “This is what you left your family for?! I got you cornered, you little skank! It won’t be long before I punch the shit out of you! Hell, your husband and kids don’t even miss you anyways! I bet they’ll dance all over your grave once I put your ass six feet under!”
As RJ trekked through the hallways of the castle, he could hear little children crying their eyes out at his remarks. “No…no, this is ridiculous.” He kicked down one of the doors and found Liz sitting at a dinner table with two tiny Lego minifigures in her arms as well as a life-sized Lego man sitting across from her. RJ rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things and indeed they were as real as the Christmas tree illuminating their features.
“How could you say those things about my family, RJ?” asked Liz with a sour frown. “They’ve been here the whole time. This is where I belong, not in an insane asylum. And guess what, Mr. Maddox? This family is only going to get bigger…and bigger…and bigger…and bigger…”
From underneath the table and underneath Liz’s belly, more Lego mini-figures emerged to repeat her “bigger and bigger” sentiments. These Lego babies grinned at RJ with razor-sharp teeth while some of them held plastic swords and guns. Even Mr. McKinnon had his own gigantic silver sword that he swung around in the air with the lightness of a feather.
“You people are fucked up! You hear me?! You’re all fucked up!” screamed RJ as he ran out of the castle with his arms flailing in the air like a lunatic. His childish screams turned to maniacal laughter while dragon statues, mini-figures, and Creator dinosaurs roared monstrously at him. The floor swirled underneath him while various light tubes flashed and nearly caused him to have a psychotic seizure.
When RJ spotted Jimmy giving chest compressions to Diana, the tall black orderly chuckled hysterically with his tongue hanging out to his chest while he yanked the hypodermic needle out of Jimmy’s belt. “What the fuck are you doing?!” Jimmy shouted. But it was too late. RJ jammed the needle into his jugular and injected himself full of psychotic drugs. The swirling floor constantly changed colors. The flashing lights exploded like fireworks. The dragons and dinosaurs laughed like serial killers as did the McKinnon family and their many “children”. RJ’s brain popped like popcorn as he crumpled to a relaxed heap on the floor, his tongue dissolving into a red pool of filth. He could finally close his eyes and forget that this all happened.
Hours passed since the time RJ closed his eyes. With the heaviness in his eyelids, the aching in his head, and the soreness in his ribcage, it felt like days, maybe even months went by. He couldn’t move his arms because they were trapped in a straightjacket. He couldn’t sit up because he was bound to a table with leather straps. He could turn his head slightly, but waited until his eyes adjusted to the florescent lights to see just where the hell he was. Strapped to the adjacent tables were a raving and drooling Jimmy Lord and a teeth-gnashing Diana Gunn.
“At least I can get some rest,” whispered RJ as he relaxed in his laying position.
“It’s five o’clock, Mr. Maddox. Time for your treatment!” squeaked a familiar voice.
RJ said, “Oh, no!” and screamed his head off when he saw Liz McKinnon decked out in hospital scrubs holding shock pads in either hands. And yes, she was still in Lego mini-figure form. No matter how hard RJ struggled and yelped, he couldn’t avoid the two lightning bolts surging through either side of his head, sending him into yet another relaxed state of mind. His world went black, but all he dreamed about was more Lego madness. More goddamn dragons. More goddamn fanged babies. More goddamn Liz McKinnon and her freaky family. “Just kill me already!” he drooled.
“She always had a thing for Legos,” said RJ Maddox as he shined a flashlight throughout the parking lot of Toys R Us. The orderly towered over his boss by a shit load of inches, but his menacing scowl commanded fear more often than his brutish muscles.
“She likes to call herself the Legomancer, whatever the hell that is,” said Jimmy Lord as he filled his syringe with a viscous red fluid. Despite his hefty frame, he could easily keep up with his boss and his coworker. All of this walking and not one sign of huffing and puffing.
“Liz McKinnon better goddamn jolly well be in there or I’m having both of your nuts on a silver platter,” belted Dr. Gunn. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. I just want to get her ass back to the hospital and sleep easy tonight. That bitch will be lucky if she sleeps anywhere but a fucking cemetery tonight.”
Diana pulled her taser gun out of her lab coat and flashed some electricity to illuminate the psychotic expression on her face. Her pulsating bloodshot eyes and botched lipstick job would have anybody kneeling on the floor begging for mercy. RJ cracked his knuckles on both hands, every pop sounding like a machinegun bursting during a time of war. Jimmy grinned devilishly as he squirted a small sample of his needle fluid in the air. It was kill or be killed for these mental hospital employees and they were bringing a scorched earth into that darkened Toys R Us.
“Well, how do you like that?” hissed Diana. “She picked the goddamn locks. She always was a crafty little shit. I’ll bet that’s how she got out of her restraints. Not to worry: we’re going to fuck her up so badly she doesn’t even make it to the hospital tonight. That bitch is DOA!”
The scorched earth attitude of the doctor and her orderlies cooled off into a nervous freeze when they marched into the store to see what it had become. “What the fuck?” asked Jimmy Lord as RJ shined the club-sized flashlight around the store. Empty Lego boxes piled high in every corner. Lego sets built as instructed, but with oddly colored bricks. Pink and blue dinosaurs, green and red pirate ships, mismatched minifigures, and orange birds all decorated this playful palace.
“Don’t piss your pants just yet, boys,” warned Diana as she flashed some more electricity. “We’ve dealt with loonies like this before. This shit ain’t new to us.” She contradicted her own statements with a prolonged, “Oh my god!” once she and her boys made it to the middle of the store. Glowing brightly with red and orange plastic tubes, a life size merry-go-round with Lego horses and medieval knights twirled in circles while playing creepy organ music in the background.
“Woo-hoo! Yeah! This is the life!” yapped Liz McKinnon as she rode around on her own creation while waving her hands in the air. She remained in the shadows of the carrousel and then caused her assailants to nearly piss themselves when one of the light tubes revealed her Lego minifigure body in life-size form. The brick legs, the tube arms, the claw-like hands, and the smiling yellow face with wavy brown hair: she had it all.
“Don’t just stand there, guys! Let’s get her!” snapped Diana. Her three person team bum rushed the carrousel like a family of rhinos in a quaking stampede. Liz giggled at them and rode away on her horse towards the back of the store. By the time Diana, RJ, and Jimmy leapt onto the carrousel, the Lego pieces came crashing down on top of them, leaving them buried in plastic rubble. The studs and corners nicked their human victims to where the triple threat looked like they were mauled by street cats.
While Dr. Gunn and Jimmy wallowed in their wounds, RJ Maddox burst out of the pile with his muscled arms in the air and an ursine roar. He kicked his way through the shattered pieces and started picking up Lego sets left and right to smash them into even more pieces. He lifted spaceships in the air and threw them to the ground as hard as he could while screaming, “This is fucking bullshit! I’m going to kill that little bitch!”
During the tall black orderly’s rampage, a pirate ship flew by and crashed against his watermelon skull, opening a gash on the side of his head. He growled in pain and held his wound while glaring at the source of the pain: Liz McKinnon and her ability to levitate Lego sets in the air with her glowing blue hands.
“You people said I was crazy,” lectured Liz while sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Everyone told me that I was too old to play with Legos, that I had responsibilities, that I could never be a kid again. And now here they are sending a three-way sex circle at me in the form of you jack-offs!”
Dr. Diana Gunn shoved the Lego pieces off of herself and pulled Jimmy Lord to his feet before picking up her dropped taser gun and pointing it accusingly at Liz. “You think you’re the only one who misses her childhood?” Diana snapped. “That’s what life is all about, sweetheart! Everybody has to grow up at some point! Everybody has to venture out into the real world! It’s a part of the natural order! But you don’t want to be a normal member of society, so what do you do? You endanger your husband and children with your reckless behavior!”
“Look at you, Dr. Gunn,” mocked Liz. “Trying to debate with a so-called crazy person. Are you sure you’re not itching for a straightjacket yourself? Hell, maybe I can give you some of that shock treatment you gave me for, I don’t know, twenty fucking years!” She levitated one of her spaceships in the air and used its laser cannons to zap Diana’s taser, which sent an electrical storm of agony throughout her convulsing body before she crumpled to the floor.
While Jimmy tended to his boss’s wounds, RJ bolted towards Liz and the two of them gave chase throughout the store. Liz even did some back flips, summersaults, and made some “Hoo-hoo!” noises during her escape. RJ shrieked, “You better pray to god that I don’t catch up to you, you little hooker!” Liz kept up her tilt-a-whirl acrobatics and caused RJ’s blood to boil even further.
Their chase led the two of them through the various isles and into the back of the store, where Mr. Maddox stood in awe of the gigantic Lego castle that Liz crafted for herself. She blew him a kiss before storming past the gates and disappearing behind the shadows. This time RJ cracked his neck on both sides and stomped into the castle after her. He managed to tuck and roll out of the way of dragon statues breathing fire at him as well as knife traps trigged from the ceiling above.
“Is that all you got?!” RJ mocked with his hands spread out in a Jesus Christ pose. “This is what you left your family for?! I got you cornered, you little skank! It won’t be long before I punch the shit out of you! Hell, your husband and kids don’t even miss you anyways! I bet they’ll dance all over your grave once I put your ass six feet under!”
As RJ trekked through the hallways of the castle, he could hear little children crying their eyes out at his remarks. “No…no, this is ridiculous.” He kicked down one of the doors and found Liz sitting at a dinner table with two tiny Lego minifigures in her arms as well as a life-sized Lego man sitting across from her. RJ rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things and indeed they were as real as the Christmas tree illuminating their features.
“How could you say those things about my family, RJ?” asked Liz with a sour frown. “They’ve been here the whole time. This is where I belong, not in an insane asylum. And guess what, Mr. Maddox? This family is only going to get bigger…and bigger…and bigger…and bigger…”
From underneath the table and underneath Liz’s belly, more Lego mini-figures emerged to repeat her “bigger and bigger” sentiments. These Lego babies grinned at RJ with razor-sharp teeth while some of them held plastic swords and guns. Even Mr. McKinnon had his own gigantic silver sword that he swung around in the air with the lightness of a feather.
“You people are fucked up! You hear me?! You’re all fucked up!” screamed RJ as he ran out of the castle with his arms flailing in the air like a lunatic. His childish screams turned to maniacal laughter while dragon statues, mini-figures, and Creator dinosaurs roared monstrously at him. The floor swirled underneath him while various light tubes flashed and nearly caused him to have a psychotic seizure.
When RJ spotted Jimmy giving chest compressions to Diana, the tall black orderly chuckled hysterically with his tongue hanging out to his chest while he yanked the hypodermic needle out of Jimmy’s belt. “What the fuck are you doing?!” Jimmy shouted. But it was too late. RJ jammed the needle into his jugular and injected himself full of psychotic drugs. The swirling floor constantly changed colors. The flashing lights exploded like fireworks. The dragons and dinosaurs laughed like serial killers as did the McKinnon family and their many “children”. RJ’s brain popped like popcorn as he crumpled to a relaxed heap on the floor, his tongue dissolving into a red pool of filth. He could finally close his eyes and forget that this all happened.
Hours passed since the time RJ closed his eyes. With the heaviness in his eyelids, the aching in his head, and the soreness in his ribcage, it felt like days, maybe even months went by. He couldn’t move his arms because they were trapped in a straightjacket. He couldn’t sit up because he was bound to a table with leather straps. He could turn his head slightly, but waited until his eyes adjusted to the florescent lights to see just where the hell he was. Strapped to the adjacent tables were a raving and drooling Jimmy Lord and a teeth-gnashing Diana Gunn.
“At least I can get some rest,” whispered RJ as he relaxed in his laying position.
“It’s five o’clock, Mr. Maddox. Time for your treatment!” squeaked a familiar voice.
RJ said, “Oh, no!” and screamed his head off when he saw Liz McKinnon decked out in hospital scrubs holding shock pads in either hands. And yes, she was still in Lego mini-figure form. No matter how hard RJ struggled and yelped, he couldn’t avoid the two lightning bolts surging through either side of his head, sending him into yet another relaxed state of mind. His world went black, but all he dreamed about was more Lego madness. More goddamn dragons. More goddamn fanged babies. More goddamn Liz McKinnon and her freaky family. “Just kill me already!” he drooled.
November 5, 2017
Theocracy
VERSE 1
Welcome to the theocracy
Forget your sexual fantasies
It’s all about diseases and pregnancy
Cross the line, you’re the public enemy
Abstinence doesn’t do a damn thing
It’s somehow better with a wedding ring
Don’t try to analyze, just conform
Theocracy is the brand new norm
CHORUS
Sex ed will fuck with your head
STD’s will leave you for dead
We know what goes on in your bed
Theocracy is what you need instead
VERSE 2
Never mind that we’re telling lies
Why should this come as a surprise?
We’re the same guys who grade opinions
Turn you all into mindless minions
It could be another brick in the wall
Or lesions all over your dick and balls
Or green pus oozing out of your holes
Or HIV racking up a bloody death toll
CHORUS
Sex ed will fuck with your head
STD’s will leave you for dead
We know what goes on in your bed
Theocracy is what you need instead
VERSE 3
Masturbation can relieve your tension
But we don’t give it the slightest mention
Wait until you’re married, it all makes sense
Don’t try to debate us or put up a defense
We’re the ones who give A’s and B’s
To students who always aim to please
We’re also the ones who give F’s and D’s
Who question the curriculum about disease
BRIDGE
Sores on your cock until forever o’clock
Sores on your ass, wait for eternity to pass
Kick you when you’re down in this rightwing town
No apologies for theocracy
EXTENDED CHORUS
Sex ed will fuck with your head
STD’s will leave you for dead
We know what goes on in your bed
Theocracy is what you need instead
Bible verses aren’t something to dread
Your holy spirit is what needs to be fed
A sip of Kool-Aid and a chunk of bread
Poison for your mind like water with lead
Welcome to the theocracy
Forget your sexual fantasies
It’s all about diseases and pregnancy
Cross the line, you’re the public enemy
Abstinence doesn’t do a damn thing
It’s somehow better with a wedding ring
Don’t try to analyze, just conform
Theocracy is the brand new norm
CHORUS
Sex ed will fuck with your head
STD’s will leave you for dead
We know what goes on in your bed
Theocracy is what you need instead
VERSE 2
Never mind that we’re telling lies
Why should this come as a surprise?
We’re the same guys who grade opinions
Turn you all into mindless minions
It could be another brick in the wall
Or lesions all over your dick and balls
Or green pus oozing out of your holes
Or HIV racking up a bloody death toll
CHORUS
Sex ed will fuck with your head
STD’s will leave you for dead
We know what goes on in your bed
Theocracy is what you need instead
VERSE 3
Masturbation can relieve your tension
But we don’t give it the slightest mention
Wait until you’re married, it all makes sense
Don’t try to debate us or put up a defense
We’re the ones who give A’s and B’s
To students who always aim to please
We’re also the ones who give F’s and D’s
Who question the curriculum about disease
BRIDGE
Sores on your cock until forever o’clock
Sores on your ass, wait for eternity to pass
Kick you when you’re down in this rightwing town
No apologies for theocracy
EXTENDED CHORUS
Sex ed will fuck with your head
STD’s will leave you for dead
We know what goes on in your bed
Theocracy is what you need instead
Bible verses aren’t something to dread
Your holy spirit is what needs to be fed
A sip of Kool-Aid and a chunk of bread
Poison for your mind like water with lead
Toilet Cleaner
VERSE 1
The glass ceiling is lower than the floor
I earn my check, yet I always need more
Scrubbing your toilets spic and span
Not much of a future, not much of a plan
I could never be a real family man
Then again, how could I give a damn?
Power is something you’re born with
Every other talking point is bullshit
CHORUS
Toilet cleaner!
American dreamer!
Toilet cleaner!
Silent screamer!
VERSE 2
It’s not the smell that assaults my nose
It’s that my grave won’t earn one rose
It’s not the work that destroys my back
It’s being left behind in the corporate pack
It’s not the graffiti imprinted on the walls
It’s the thanklessness of scrubbing the stalls
Honey, I’m home! Oh wait, I’m alone
These slothful sins I shall never atone
EXTENDED CHORUS 1
Toilet cleaner!
American dreamer!
Toilet cleaner!
Silent screamer!
Bathroom bitch!
The new non-rich!
Restroom junkie!
Low-grade flunky!
BRIDGE
I drop the mop!
Say fuck it to the bucket!
I quit this shit!
I school these fools!
My path of wrath!
The edge of dredge!
Bow to the cash cow!
Never forever!
EXTENDED CHORUS 2
Master of my destiny!
Master of my enemies!
Slave to my deepest rage!
Beast inside a steel cage!
Toilet cleaner!
Megaphone screamer!
Bathroom bitch!
Pull the kill switch!
The glass ceiling is lower than the floor
I earn my check, yet I always need more
Scrubbing your toilets spic and span
Not much of a future, not much of a plan
I could never be a real family man
Then again, how could I give a damn?
Power is something you’re born with
Every other talking point is bullshit
CHORUS
Toilet cleaner!
American dreamer!
Toilet cleaner!
Silent screamer!
VERSE 2
It’s not the smell that assaults my nose
It’s that my grave won’t earn one rose
It’s not the work that destroys my back
It’s being left behind in the corporate pack
It’s not the graffiti imprinted on the walls
It’s the thanklessness of scrubbing the stalls
Honey, I’m home! Oh wait, I’m alone
These slothful sins I shall never atone
EXTENDED CHORUS 1
Toilet cleaner!
American dreamer!
Toilet cleaner!
Silent screamer!
Bathroom bitch!
The new non-rich!
Restroom junkie!
Low-grade flunky!
BRIDGE
I drop the mop!
Say fuck it to the bucket!
I quit this shit!
I school these fools!
My path of wrath!
The edge of dredge!
Bow to the cash cow!
Never forever!
EXTENDED CHORUS 2
Master of my destiny!
Master of my enemies!
Slave to my deepest rage!
Beast inside a steel cage!
Toilet cleaner!
Megaphone screamer!
Bathroom bitch!
Pull the kill switch!
November 3, 2017
Gorgon Death Bitch
The clock on Steve Jones’s dashboard struck midnight while the rain pounded on his windshield like hammers. He clutched the steering wheel with a monstrous grip knowing what was waiting for him beyond that apartment door. He could faintly hear Kathryn Marsh’s radio blasting the coincidental tune “The Thunder Rolls” by All That Remains. How funny would it be if those lyrics about a cheating husband influenced her rage when Steve walked through the door? The last time he sniffed around, there wasn’t a trace of cologne because there was no other woman. But still…
Steve took one last swig of his Jack Daniels and let out an ogre burp before exiting the car for what would be the longest walk of his life. It was only one flight of stairs, but with the alcohol turning his brain into mush, he might as well have been walking on an endless treadmill. He limped up each individual step while maintaining a chokehold on the railing. He dared not peek down to know just how high off the ground he was. Instead he fixed his short brown hair and brushed off his gray hoodie and black jeans before slipping his key in the door and walking through the gates of hell.
“Where the fuck have you been?” belted Kathryn as she sprawled across the couch in her pink fleece robe while her King Charles puppy licked her hands. “Do you have any goddamn clue what time it is? Jesus, you smell like a brewery!”
“Kathryn, now’s not the time for this dramatic crap. I’ve had a long day and all I want to do is get in bed and forget all about it,” begged Steve while holding his hands up defensively.
He stumbled towards the bedroom slowly and lazily when Kathryn shoved the puppy off of her chest and leaped up to block her boyfriend’s path with her arms akimbo. “I’ve been waiting for you all day long. We were supposed to have dinner together and then go see a movie.” She took in the scent of booze with a scowl and said, “You obviously had other plans.”
“You know what?” slurred Steve. “I did have other plans. Plans that didn’t involve coming home to you every night and getting chewed out for stupid shit! Ever since we got engaged, it’s been the same: fighting, fighting, and more fucking fighting! So excuse me if I don’t feel like hanging out with a crazy chick who wants to keep me on a leash!”
Kathryn shoved Steve and sent him careening backwards. He would have landed on his ass if he didn’t have a firm grip on the back of the couch. Towering over him, she snapped, “We never do anything together anymore! I have to keep you on a short leash because I can’t trust you to be there for me! We’re supposed to get married soon and now you’re going to ruin it for us by drinking yourself to death! I’m sick of this shit, Steve!”
Amidst rapid-fire dog barking, Steve pulled himself to his feet, but not without tripping forward and almost landing face first into Kathryn’s chest. “Kitty-Kat, just shut the fuck up before you make my headache worse than it already is.”
Kathryn slapped Steve across the face and sent him rolling onto the couch. “How can you talk to me that way?!” she angrily sobbed. “The Steve I know would never have said that to anyone, let alone his own fiancé! You’ve changed! You’ve fucking changed! You can either check into rehab or I’ll drop this wedding like a bad habit!” When the dog continued to voice his opinion, his owner shouted, “Shut up, you stupid dog!” and earned a whine and a crouch from the little pooch.
Steve’s burning fury caused him to grab one of the couch pillows and thrash everything in sight with it, whether it be the coffee table, the TV, or Kathryn herself. He threw the soft weapon to the ground and shouted, “That’s it! I’ve had it with you! You want to end this relationship?! You want to throw it all away over stupid shit?! You got it! Good riddance! I’d be better off jacking it to internet porn than spending another night in the sack with you, you gorgon death bitch!”
Kathryn’s cheeks flushed into a brighter shade of pink than her bathrobe. Tears poured from her eyes with more intensity than the weather outside. “The Thunder Rolls” meant more to her now than it did when she was waiting for Steve to come home. She curled up into a ball on the floor and dampened her knees with sorrowful liquids. Steve wouldn’t be deterred by such a “pitiful” display as he crossed his arms and stood over her like a giant terrorizing villagers. He wasn’t staggering anymore despite the strong scent of alcohol blowing around the house like disgusting perfume.
“How could you?” Kathryn whimpered. “Why would you say that to me? Don’t you love me anymore? Does our marriage mean nothing to you?” Even with the biblical flood of tears, Steve hadn’t moved an inch. It was only when poisonous snakes grew from her scalp that he slowly staggered backwards and fell on his ass.
Now it was Steve’s turn to shed tears of misery and fear. “What the hell?” he asked as the dog’s barking picked up steam yet again.
The snakes in Kathryn’s hair slithered, spit venom, and chewed at the air. Her skin whitened to a pale shade of marble. When she nipped up and roared to the sky, neon red lights shot from her eyes and turned every fly whirling above her into little pebbles. Their corpses rolled across the ground like a game of craps. Steve had already turned around and covered his head so that he didn’t have to look into her eyes. Her demonic voice, on the other hand, was as clear as day. “You want a gorgon death bitch?! I’ll give you one, you little shit! You’re going to put a ring on me whether you want to or not!”
The shivering and cowering Steve opened his eyes ever so slightly to see Kathryn’s shadow creeping up on him. The snakes in her hair all made a lung for him and he rolled out of the way just in time. “Come on, Stevie-Boy!” the gorgon taunted. “I thought you liked putting poison in your body! You do enough of it at the bar, so why not here at home?”
The snakes lunged at him again and one of them managed to snag the back of his hoodie. Steve screamed in almighty terror as he ran behind the couch, leaving a piece of his clothing behind for the snakes to snack on. He tried to run towards the bedroom, but his drunken stupor made athleticism close to impossible. He tripped to the ground and crawled across the carpet like a soldier trying to avoid barbed wire. His heart thundered at a million beats per minute. Sweat and tears rained off of him like a dam after an earthquake. His body trembled and his bladder unleashed another rainstorm upon the ground. He even managed to feel pity for the barking dog behind him.
“I’m sorry, Kathryn! I’m so sorry! Just leave me the fuck alone!” Steve pleaded through a swamp of tears.
He felt a sharp presence clutch the back of his hair and yank him up to his knees. Those same claws mockingly massaged his shoulders while Kathryn whispered sweet nothings in his ears, her cacophony complimented by hissing snakes. “Oh, Steve. You’re so cute when you’re shaking in terror. I knew there was a reason my family loved you so much. They kept pushing me to marry you and now we can be happy together at last! Just you and me, nobody else! No beer, no drugs, no shitty music, just a lifetime of sweet symphonies! Doesn’t that sound like paradise, my darling?”
Even with his mind racing beyond the galaxy itself, Steve could make out the sound of the little puppy gnawing on Kathryn’s ankle, to which the gorgon growled and unleashed her savage stone stare upon the little guy. Steve and Kathryn yelled, “No!” together, which would be the only thing they had in common at this point in the argument.
Steve slowly turned his blistered face to see Kathryn on her knees cradling her stone statue puppy and sobbing once again. “Why?” she blubbered. “Why do I keep doing this to the ones I love? I didn’t mean to, damn it! I just want a happy life! I just want a husband and a puppy-duppy! Is that too much to ask for?”
With his eyebrows furrowed like lightning bolts, the thunder flashed in Steve’s eyes as he saw his opportunity to end this madness. He leapt to his feet, yanked the stone dog out of Kathryn’s hands, and before she could turn around, he smashed the petrified animal over her head multiple times. She screamed in bloody agony while her snakes hissed and nibbled at Steve’s arms and hands. He didn’t give a fuck about the poison or the blood.
A flash of red burned across his retinas as he smashed Kathryn’s head over and over again. The blood splatters and dead snakes were giving him a funny feeling in his wet pants. His eyes bulged and so did his underwear. He laughed like a psychopath as he bathed in the sweet venom of his now dying fiancé. It felt as warm and relaxing to his aching body as a Jacuzzi. He hammered her again and again until the stone dog spilt in two and Kathryn’s head was a pool of shattered bones and splattered brains. For the first time in this relationship, Steve could breathe easy, but he did so with a deep, raspy throat.
His moment of sweet nirvana was interrupted by the sound of his apartment door being kicked down and police officers yelling, “What the hell?!”
Steve’s bulging eyes and psychotic demeanor faded into soberness when he peeked up at the cops. His heart sank to his feet when he saw that Kathryn’s gorgon appearance was no more and the puppy’s stone body was a bloody heap. Beyond the rancid smell of blood and guts, Steve could still identify the alcohol on his own breath and clothes. Goddamn, that was some strong booze.
The officers at the door gazed at Steve with horrified shock and arms akimbo. All Steve could do was shrug his shoulders and say, “It’s not what it looks like.”
Steve took one last swig of his Jack Daniels and let out an ogre burp before exiting the car for what would be the longest walk of his life. It was only one flight of stairs, but with the alcohol turning his brain into mush, he might as well have been walking on an endless treadmill. He limped up each individual step while maintaining a chokehold on the railing. He dared not peek down to know just how high off the ground he was. Instead he fixed his short brown hair and brushed off his gray hoodie and black jeans before slipping his key in the door and walking through the gates of hell.
“Where the fuck have you been?” belted Kathryn as she sprawled across the couch in her pink fleece robe while her King Charles puppy licked her hands. “Do you have any goddamn clue what time it is? Jesus, you smell like a brewery!”
“Kathryn, now’s not the time for this dramatic crap. I’ve had a long day and all I want to do is get in bed and forget all about it,” begged Steve while holding his hands up defensively.
He stumbled towards the bedroom slowly and lazily when Kathryn shoved the puppy off of her chest and leaped up to block her boyfriend’s path with her arms akimbo. “I’ve been waiting for you all day long. We were supposed to have dinner together and then go see a movie.” She took in the scent of booze with a scowl and said, “You obviously had other plans.”
“You know what?” slurred Steve. “I did have other plans. Plans that didn’t involve coming home to you every night and getting chewed out for stupid shit! Ever since we got engaged, it’s been the same: fighting, fighting, and more fucking fighting! So excuse me if I don’t feel like hanging out with a crazy chick who wants to keep me on a leash!”
Kathryn shoved Steve and sent him careening backwards. He would have landed on his ass if he didn’t have a firm grip on the back of the couch. Towering over him, she snapped, “We never do anything together anymore! I have to keep you on a short leash because I can’t trust you to be there for me! We’re supposed to get married soon and now you’re going to ruin it for us by drinking yourself to death! I’m sick of this shit, Steve!”
Amidst rapid-fire dog barking, Steve pulled himself to his feet, but not without tripping forward and almost landing face first into Kathryn’s chest. “Kitty-Kat, just shut the fuck up before you make my headache worse than it already is.”
Kathryn slapped Steve across the face and sent him rolling onto the couch. “How can you talk to me that way?!” she angrily sobbed. “The Steve I know would never have said that to anyone, let alone his own fiancé! You’ve changed! You’ve fucking changed! You can either check into rehab or I’ll drop this wedding like a bad habit!” When the dog continued to voice his opinion, his owner shouted, “Shut up, you stupid dog!” and earned a whine and a crouch from the little pooch.
Steve’s burning fury caused him to grab one of the couch pillows and thrash everything in sight with it, whether it be the coffee table, the TV, or Kathryn herself. He threw the soft weapon to the ground and shouted, “That’s it! I’ve had it with you! You want to end this relationship?! You want to throw it all away over stupid shit?! You got it! Good riddance! I’d be better off jacking it to internet porn than spending another night in the sack with you, you gorgon death bitch!”
Kathryn’s cheeks flushed into a brighter shade of pink than her bathrobe. Tears poured from her eyes with more intensity than the weather outside. “The Thunder Rolls” meant more to her now than it did when she was waiting for Steve to come home. She curled up into a ball on the floor and dampened her knees with sorrowful liquids. Steve wouldn’t be deterred by such a “pitiful” display as he crossed his arms and stood over her like a giant terrorizing villagers. He wasn’t staggering anymore despite the strong scent of alcohol blowing around the house like disgusting perfume.
“How could you?” Kathryn whimpered. “Why would you say that to me? Don’t you love me anymore? Does our marriage mean nothing to you?” Even with the biblical flood of tears, Steve hadn’t moved an inch. It was only when poisonous snakes grew from her scalp that he slowly staggered backwards and fell on his ass.
Now it was Steve’s turn to shed tears of misery and fear. “What the hell?” he asked as the dog’s barking picked up steam yet again.
The snakes in Kathryn’s hair slithered, spit venom, and chewed at the air. Her skin whitened to a pale shade of marble. When she nipped up and roared to the sky, neon red lights shot from her eyes and turned every fly whirling above her into little pebbles. Their corpses rolled across the ground like a game of craps. Steve had already turned around and covered his head so that he didn’t have to look into her eyes. Her demonic voice, on the other hand, was as clear as day. “You want a gorgon death bitch?! I’ll give you one, you little shit! You’re going to put a ring on me whether you want to or not!”
The shivering and cowering Steve opened his eyes ever so slightly to see Kathryn’s shadow creeping up on him. The snakes in her hair all made a lung for him and he rolled out of the way just in time. “Come on, Stevie-Boy!” the gorgon taunted. “I thought you liked putting poison in your body! You do enough of it at the bar, so why not here at home?”
The snakes lunged at him again and one of them managed to snag the back of his hoodie. Steve screamed in almighty terror as he ran behind the couch, leaving a piece of his clothing behind for the snakes to snack on. He tried to run towards the bedroom, but his drunken stupor made athleticism close to impossible. He tripped to the ground and crawled across the carpet like a soldier trying to avoid barbed wire. His heart thundered at a million beats per minute. Sweat and tears rained off of him like a dam after an earthquake. His body trembled and his bladder unleashed another rainstorm upon the ground. He even managed to feel pity for the barking dog behind him.
“I’m sorry, Kathryn! I’m so sorry! Just leave me the fuck alone!” Steve pleaded through a swamp of tears.
He felt a sharp presence clutch the back of his hair and yank him up to his knees. Those same claws mockingly massaged his shoulders while Kathryn whispered sweet nothings in his ears, her cacophony complimented by hissing snakes. “Oh, Steve. You’re so cute when you’re shaking in terror. I knew there was a reason my family loved you so much. They kept pushing me to marry you and now we can be happy together at last! Just you and me, nobody else! No beer, no drugs, no shitty music, just a lifetime of sweet symphonies! Doesn’t that sound like paradise, my darling?”
Even with his mind racing beyond the galaxy itself, Steve could make out the sound of the little puppy gnawing on Kathryn’s ankle, to which the gorgon growled and unleashed her savage stone stare upon the little guy. Steve and Kathryn yelled, “No!” together, which would be the only thing they had in common at this point in the argument.
Steve slowly turned his blistered face to see Kathryn on her knees cradling her stone statue puppy and sobbing once again. “Why?” she blubbered. “Why do I keep doing this to the ones I love? I didn’t mean to, damn it! I just want a happy life! I just want a husband and a puppy-duppy! Is that too much to ask for?”
With his eyebrows furrowed like lightning bolts, the thunder flashed in Steve’s eyes as he saw his opportunity to end this madness. He leapt to his feet, yanked the stone dog out of Kathryn’s hands, and before she could turn around, he smashed the petrified animal over her head multiple times. She screamed in bloody agony while her snakes hissed and nibbled at Steve’s arms and hands. He didn’t give a fuck about the poison or the blood.
A flash of red burned across his retinas as he smashed Kathryn’s head over and over again. The blood splatters and dead snakes were giving him a funny feeling in his wet pants. His eyes bulged and so did his underwear. He laughed like a psychopath as he bathed in the sweet venom of his now dying fiancé. It felt as warm and relaxing to his aching body as a Jacuzzi. He hammered her again and again until the stone dog spilt in two and Kathryn’s head was a pool of shattered bones and splattered brains. For the first time in this relationship, Steve could breathe easy, but he did so with a deep, raspy throat.
His moment of sweet nirvana was interrupted by the sound of his apartment door being kicked down and police officers yelling, “What the hell?!”
Steve’s bulging eyes and psychotic demeanor faded into soberness when he peeked up at the cops. His heart sank to his feet when he saw that Kathryn’s gorgon appearance was no more and the puppy’s stone body was a bloody heap. Beyond the rancid smell of blood and guts, Steve could still identify the alcohol on his own breath and clothes. Goddamn, that was some strong booze.
The officers at the door gazed at Steve with horrified shock and arms akimbo. All Steve could do was shrug his shoulders and say, “It’s not what it looks like.”
November 2, 2017
The Real Game Excuse
***THE REAL GAME EXCUSE***
When I was still a member of Play By Web from 2001-2005, I would oftentimes create text-based RPG’s based on preexisting videogames such as Starcraft, Dead or Alive 3, and Final Fight just to name a few. The most frequent excuse someone would use not to join these games was…”Why don’t you just play the real game?” That irked me every time because I could never find a counterpoint for it. They were right to some degree. The videogames were right there ready to play and here I was attempting to capitalize off of them with text-based games. But I wanted so badly for people to join my games. Debating wasn’t and still isn’t my strong suit, because my opponents would come up with infinite talking points that I’d have no answer for.
Well, today in the year 2017, I have an answer for what I like to call “The Real Game Excuse”. It took me fifteen years to come up with a legitimate argument, but better late than never. While videogames have all of the graphics and gadgets to give their players a true vicarious experience, they’re limited in what you can actually do with them. Sure, you can hack the games and create your own levels and characters, but even that has its limits, especially for people who suck with computers. Text-based versions of these videogames offer endless possibilities with regards to character creation, storylines, writing expertise, and imagination development. Have you ever tried to create Megatron in a game of Diablo II: Lord of Destruction? No, and you never will. But in a text-based version of that game, you most certainly could if the referee allowed it.
But what if you don’t want to stick with just one game? What if you want to do a crossover series? Now the possibilities are REALLY endless! Take any two videogame titles, put an X between them, and you’re in business, buddy! Super Mario Brothers 2 X Diablo II: Lord of Destruction: holy shit! You’d have barbarians swinging battleaxes at Phantos, Lister the Tormentor blowing bubbles and getting killed with vegetables, sorceresses throwing lightning bolts at Clawgrip, Jesus Christ, look at all that! Try doing that with just a copy of a videogame.
Want another example? Sure, why not? How about Super Street Fighter II X Final Fantasy IV? Now you’ve got M. Bison psycho-crushing his way through an army of Calcobrena Puppets. You’ve got Chun Li doing a spinning bird kick while waiting for Kain Highwind to land from his jump attack. Hell, if Kain wanted to jump that fucking high, he can count on Zangief to help him out with a spinning pile-driver! What about the ultimate dream match between Ryu and Yang? The possibilities are…well, you get the drill by now. No need to overdo the talking point.
One last argument and then I’ll update you all on my creative projects. Making a decision between a videogame and an RPG is like making one between a movie and a book. With a videogame, you can see everything on the screen and you don’t need to engage your imagination. Movies are like that too. But with books and RPG’s, you have to create everything from scratch and actually put some work into your craft. Why do you think people brag about reading books more often than they do about watching movies? Granted, it takes a lot of work to finish a videogame, but once you’re finished with it, it’s over forever. If you were playing a pencil-and-paper RPG, you could go on for as long as you so desired and create new adventures.
I hope you guys aren’t getting the impression that I’m completely shitting on the videogame industry. I’ve played videogames since I was a little kid and even though I gave up on them in 2010, I still use them as a major source of creative fuel. They have their place society for sure, but they’re not an excuse to shit all over text-based RPG’s. Both mediums have their advantages and disadvantages, whether it’s cost analysis, creativity, simplicity of rules, or overall fun. I encourage everyone to enjoy both sides of this fence and live together in harmony. If someone has a pencil-and-paper version of Double Dragon handy, don’t mock them for it. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***BORN A CRIME***
The next time I delve into Trevor Noah’s memoir, I’m going to finish it off and review it. I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to give it an extra credit grade or a passing one. It seems as though I’ve been handing out extra credit grades like it’s Halloween candy. Maybe there really are that many books out there that can change my life. Born a Crime could very easily be one of them.
***POISON TONGUE TALES 2: THE RIGHT TO REMAIN PSYCHOTIC***
The fourth to last story in this series will be called “Gorgon Death Bitch”. Since the prompt in this week’s WSS contest is Radio, here’s how it’ll go:
CHARACTERS:
1. Steve Jones, Frightened Boyfriend
2. Kathryn Marsh, Angry Girlfriend
PROMPT CONFORMITY: The radio is blasting when Steve comes home.
SYNOPSIS: Steve and Kathryn had been dating for several months and are already living together. They’ve also been fighting a lot recently, giving Steve ideas of breaking up with his girlfriend. When he comes home late from work one night, Kathryn tears into him verbally, prompting Steve to give into his designs of ending the relationship. Kathryn bursts into tears on the couch and then transforms into a gorgon to terrorize her lover some more. Steve tries to talk some sense into her, but he’s too terrified to put words together. He’s also trying not to look Kathryn in the eyes lest he be turned to stone.
FUN FACT: Kathryn Marsh is going to be the next character to be drawn in the Dark Fantasy Warriors series.
***FACE BOOK POST OF THE DAY***
If Poison Tongue Tales ever has its own page on TVtropes.org, these are the tropes you should probably be aware of. All of my dogs have saggy jowls, all of my male villains are fat and ugly, all of my muscle-bound heroes giggle like children, and all of my characters in general have hot tempers. Okay, so maybe not ALL of these tropes are 100% true…but enough of them are. Hehe!
When I was still a member of Play By Web from 2001-2005, I would oftentimes create text-based RPG’s based on preexisting videogames such as Starcraft, Dead or Alive 3, and Final Fight just to name a few. The most frequent excuse someone would use not to join these games was…”Why don’t you just play the real game?” That irked me every time because I could never find a counterpoint for it. They were right to some degree. The videogames were right there ready to play and here I was attempting to capitalize off of them with text-based games. But I wanted so badly for people to join my games. Debating wasn’t and still isn’t my strong suit, because my opponents would come up with infinite talking points that I’d have no answer for.
Well, today in the year 2017, I have an answer for what I like to call “The Real Game Excuse”. It took me fifteen years to come up with a legitimate argument, but better late than never. While videogames have all of the graphics and gadgets to give their players a true vicarious experience, they’re limited in what you can actually do with them. Sure, you can hack the games and create your own levels and characters, but even that has its limits, especially for people who suck with computers. Text-based versions of these videogames offer endless possibilities with regards to character creation, storylines, writing expertise, and imagination development. Have you ever tried to create Megatron in a game of Diablo II: Lord of Destruction? No, and you never will. But in a text-based version of that game, you most certainly could if the referee allowed it.
But what if you don’t want to stick with just one game? What if you want to do a crossover series? Now the possibilities are REALLY endless! Take any two videogame titles, put an X between them, and you’re in business, buddy! Super Mario Brothers 2 X Diablo II: Lord of Destruction: holy shit! You’d have barbarians swinging battleaxes at Phantos, Lister the Tormentor blowing bubbles and getting killed with vegetables, sorceresses throwing lightning bolts at Clawgrip, Jesus Christ, look at all that! Try doing that with just a copy of a videogame.
Want another example? Sure, why not? How about Super Street Fighter II X Final Fantasy IV? Now you’ve got M. Bison psycho-crushing his way through an army of Calcobrena Puppets. You’ve got Chun Li doing a spinning bird kick while waiting for Kain Highwind to land from his jump attack. Hell, if Kain wanted to jump that fucking high, he can count on Zangief to help him out with a spinning pile-driver! What about the ultimate dream match between Ryu and Yang? The possibilities are…well, you get the drill by now. No need to overdo the talking point.
One last argument and then I’ll update you all on my creative projects. Making a decision between a videogame and an RPG is like making one between a movie and a book. With a videogame, you can see everything on the screen and you don’t need to engage your imagination. Movies are like that too. But with books and RPG’s, you have to create everything from scratch and actually put some work into your craft. Why do you think people brag about reading books more often than they do about watching movies? Granted, it takes a lot of work to finish a videogame, but once you’re finished with it, it’s over forever. If you were playing a pencil-and-paper RPG, you could go on for as long as you so desired and create new adventures.
I hope you guys aren’t getting the impression that I’m completely shitting on the videogame industry. I’ve played videogames since I was a little kid and even though I gave up on them in 2010, I still use them as a major source of creative fuel. They have their place society for sure, but they’re not an excuse to shit all over text-based RPG’s. Both mediums have their advantages and disadvantages, whether it’s cost analysis, creativity, simplicity of rules, or overall fun. I encourage everyone to enjoy both sides of this fence and live together in harmony. If someone has a pencil-and-paper version of Double Dragon handy, don’t mock them for it. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***BORN A CRIME***
The next time I delve into Trevor Noah’s memoir, I’m going to finish it off and review it. I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to give it an extra credit grade or a passing one. It seems as though I’ve been handing out extra credit grades like it’s Halloween candy. Maybe there really are that many books out there that can change my life. Born a Crime could very easily be one of them.
***POISON TONGUE TALES 2: THE RIGHT TO REMAIN PSYCHOTIC***
The fourth to last story in this series will be called “Gorgon Death Bitch”. Since the prompt in this week’s WSS contest is Radio, here’s how it’ll go:
CHARACTERS:
1. Steve Jones, Frightened Boyfriend
2. Kathryn Marsh, Angry Girlfriend
PROMPT CONFORMITY: The radio is blasting when Steve comes home.
SYNOPSIS: Steve and Kathryn had been dating for several months and are already living together. They’ve also been fighting a lot recently, giving Steve ideas of breaking up with his girlfriend. When he comes home late from work one night, Kathryn tears into him verbally, prompting Steve to give into his designs of ending the relationship. Kathryn bursts into tears on the couch and then transforms into a gorgon to terrorize her lover some more. Steve tries to talk some sense into her, but he’s too terrified to put words together. He’s also trying not to look Kathryn in the eyes lest he be turned to stone.
FUN FACT: Kathryn Marsh is going to be the next character to be drawn in the Dark Fantasy Warriors series.
***FACE BOOK POST OF THE DAY***
If Poison Tongue Tales ever has its own page on TVtropes.org, these are the tropes you should probably be aware of. All of my dogs have saggy jowls, all of my male villains are fat and ugly, all of my muscle-bound heroes giggle like children, and all of my characters in general have hot tempers. Okay, so maybe not ALL of these tropes are 100% true…but enough of them are. Hehe!
