Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 86
April 15, 2017
Demon Axe, Chapter 19
The bindings on Arthur Triscloud’s wrists and ankles cut so deeply into him that it felt like it was being branded with an iron. Such slow agony didn’t weigh nearly as heavily on his mind as watching down below from his crucified position, where Roger Zee sharpened his bloodied machete with a whetstone. Arthur could hear the squawks of crows and ravens circling above him. Any minute now they would begin to peck his eyes out and leave him a violent mess. To die atop these holy mountains in such a cruel fashion burned a look of silent rage on Arthur’s face.
“I see the writing on the wall, my old friend,” said Arthur, which garnered no attention from Roger. “This is more than about rightwing politics for you. This runs much deeper. But that’s what I need help in understanding. Where did it all go wrong? What the hell has happened to you?! I once considered you to be a brother of mine! You were next in line for the throne! And then you threw it all away…for what?!”
Roger stopped sharpening his blade and cast a vicious gaze at his king. The zealot stood up and sheathed his weapon before speaking to his captive with venom in his voice. “The throne? Are you sure that title wasn’t reserved for that heavy metal goofball Daniel Mercer? I know all about your plans. I know what you want for this kingdom. For a man of such wisdom, you’ve sure made the dumbest decision of your life in choosing him over me. He can’t even govern his own mind, let alone an entire nation of people.”
“For his tortured state of mind, I blame you, Roger,” snapped Arthur. “You haven’t been the same ever since I’ve dissolved the Order of the Spider. You’re the last of that elite group and now you’ve brought shame with your countless murders. You can never go back to being that noble friend you once were. I broke up the Order of the Spider because you and your group couldn’t stop torturing your prisoners for information. I don’t care if the human kingdom destroys our entire race; torture is not acceptable, not in this nation, not in any other!”
“Is that what this is about?!” roared Roger as he unsheathed his blade once more. “You social justice warriors are all the same to me. You want solutions to the world’s problems, but when someone like me provides the best kind there is, you squeal like a bunch of pigs! And if you want to argue psychological triggers, try arguing with me about the consequences of breaking up the Order! Together, my men and I were an elite team of warriors! In the midst of war, you separated us! Every damn day I would get letters in the mail about one of my crew being slaughtered by those disgusting humans! They were more than just crew members! They were friends! Brothers! Family! I’d die alongside them if I could!”
A beat of uncomfortable silence was broken when Roger marched up to where Arthur was perched and grabbed him by the hair before pulling his face closer and saying in a demonic tone, “Look into my eyes, my lord! Tell me what you see! Do you see the strength of a thousand men or do you see someone who is broken beyond repair?!”
Arthur’s features softened even after having his hair pulled when he realized, “You have PTSD too, just like Daniel.”
“Every damn day it hurts, Arthur! Sometimes I wake up and I don’t know where the fuck I am! Sending those faggots and hippies to the depths of hell was the only way I could shut up the voices of my own men calling me a coward! Take a look into my eyes, my lord! Who’s screaming now?! Who the fuck is screaming now?!” shouted Roger.
Arthur’s teeth were gritted and his face was trembling with anger. “I don’t care how badly you hurt every night. I don’t care what kind of nightmares you wake up from. What you’re doing is wrong. It’s about as wrong as it gets! Torturing prisoners is not what we’re all about and neither is random murder! The sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner your own cohorts will give you peace!”
Roger held his blade to the king’s throat and a trickle of blood ran down the royalty’s neck. Arthur remained brave as he stared death in the face with a poisonous frown. “Go ahead and kill me! I’ve already made up my mind as to who’s taking over my throne! Daniel Mercer is more of a leader than you could ever be in your lifetime! He doesn’t need a machete to get his point across! He has something even more powerful than a blade or a gun: his voice.”
Roger pressed the blade to Arthur’s neck even further without killing him or drawing more blood. After a lengthy stare-down between the two with twitching faces and raging expressions, the zealot sheathed his weapon once more and slowly backed away before folding his arms. He then smiled and said, “Slashing your neck would be too easy. After what you’ve done to my men, you deserve a much slower death than that. I reckon those ravens and crows are getting hungry right about now. It wouldn’t be right of me to deny them a fresh meal.”
“Do your worst, you psychotic bastard,” spat Arthur. “Before the birds dine on my facial features, there’s something you need to know. You can’t win, Roger. Your quest of pain and agony is about to come crashing down around you. The elves and the humans will know peace once again.”
Roger chuckled and said, “Is that really the fantasy that keeps you going throughout your elder years? And here I thought the slow burn of old age would have erased that shit from your head a long time ago!”
“It’s not a fantasy, Roger. It’s the truth,” said the king. “While you were busy waging war with your own kind and committing all sorts of treasonous crimes, I’ve reached out to a few of my brand new friends. As it turns out, you’ve angered a lot of people with your heinous murders.”
“Of course I’ve angered people! At least now those media anchors have something worthwhile to talk about instead of some movie star taking a shit in public!”
“I’m afraid it’s much worse than that, Roger,” said Arthur with a half-smile. “You’ve pissed off…a lot of people. You’ve manipulated the police department from the inside and led many of those people to their deaths. You’ve slaughtered entire arenas full of people. You’ve taken folk heroes away from the public eye. You think their families and friends are going to be afraid of you forever? Fear can only work for so long before these “faggots and hippies” as you call them grow a solid steel spine. It’s over, Roger. It’s all over!”
“Ha!” shouted Roger. “You really think an army of nitwits is going to pose any kind of threat to me?! This whole campaign of mine was based on the idea of me slaughtering large numbers of people! Bring your cops, your bouncers, your social justice warriors, your fan boys, your fan girls, I will slay the shit out of each and every one of them! And the best part about all of this? Their blood will be on your hands, Arty-Boy! You called them over here, and now they’re going to look great lying face down in the mud!”
After the zealot let out a thunderous laughter, Arthur said, “Keep telling yourself that, you vile scum! Maybe if you say it long enough, the voices in your head will agree with you on something other than murder and torture!”
“Enough!” bellowed Roger, creating a chasm of silence between himself and the king of elves. “The more I think about it, the more I start to wonder if crucifying your pathetic ass is too good for you. Yes, I believe I’ve arrived at that point with you, my king. You’ve actually managed to be so annoying that the slowest of slow torture won’t be enough for you.”
Roger reached in his pocket and pulled out a magical crown of thorns not unlike the ones he placed on the heads of Johnny Vega and Sonia Marquez prior to their deaths. Arthur gazed upon the unholy artifact with wide-eyed fear. “Those were supposed to be banned a long time ago! Why did you have one in your pocket?!”
“Once again, your false wisdom amazes me, my king. Just because there’s a law against something, doesn’t mean it’s not going to exist. If the human nation figured that out with guns, we’d have a lot less dead motherfuckers in the earthly realm. You see, my liege, before your little army of halfwits come riding into battle with their horses and their chariots, you and I are going to have some company in the form of your future king and his two protégés Bevis and Butthead. We’ll see how much your daughter loves you when you’re the one slinging the sword instead of me!”
Roger formed a slasher smile on his face as he slowly approached King Arthur Triscloud with the crown of thorns in hand. The elderly ruler struggled and thrashed in his bindings while yelling, “No!” repeatedly. The longest “No!” sounded off like a crack of lightning as Roger wrapped the magical thorns around the king’s head. Every barb and every spike seeped its way into the king’s brain until the last synaptic neuron became Roger’s personal puppet string. Arthur’s eyes glowed a brilliant fiery red while his new master cackled with delight.
“I see the writing on the wall, my old friend,” said Arthur, which garnered no attention from Roger. “This is more than about rightwing politics for you. This runs much deeper. But that’s what I need help in understanding. Where did it all go wrong? What the hell has happened to you?! I once considered you to be a brother of mine! You were next in line for the throne! And then you threw it all away…for what?!”
Roger stopped sharpening his blade and cast a vicious gaze at his king. The zealot stood up and sheathed his weapon before speaking to his captive with venom in his voice. “The throne? Are you sure that title wasn’t reserved for that heavy metal goofball Daniel Mercer? I know all about your plans. I know what you want for this kingdom. For a man of such wisdom, you’ve sure made the dumbest decision of your life in choosing him over me. He can’t even govern his own mind, let alone an entire nation of people.”
“For his tortured state of mind, I blame you, Roger,” snapped Arthur. “You haven’t been the same ever since I’ve dissolved the Order of the Spider. You’re the last of that elite group and now you’ve brought shame with your countless murders. You can never go back to being that noble friend you once were. I broke up the Order of the Spider because you and your group couldn’t stop torturing your prisoners for information. I don’t care if the human kingdom destroys our entire race; torture is not acceptable, not in this nation, not in any other!”
“Is that what this is about?!” roared Roger as he unsheathed his blade once more. “You social justice warriors are all the same to me. You want solutions to the world’s problems, but when someone like me provides the best kind there is, you squeal like a bunch of pigs! And if you want to argue psychological triggers, try arguing with me about the consequences of breaking up the Order! Together, my men and I were an elite team of warriors! In the midst of war, you separated us! Every damn day I would get letters in the mail about one of my crew being slaughtered by those disgusting humans! They were more than just crew members! They were friends! Brothers! Family! I’d die alongside them if I could!”
A beat of uncomfortable silence was broken when Roger marched up to where Arthur was perched and grabbed him by the hair before pulling his face closer and saying in a demonic tone, “Look into my eyes, my lord! Tell me what you see! Do you see the strength of a thousand men or do you see someone who is broken beyond repair?!”
Arthur’s features softened even after having his hair pulled when he realized, “You have PTSD too, just like Daniel.”
“Every damn day it hurts, Arthur! Sometimes I wake up and I don’t know where the fuck I am! Sending those faggots and hippies to the depths of hell was the only way I could shut up the voices of my own men calling me a coward! Take a look into my eyes, my lord! Who’s screaming now?! Who the fuck is screaming now?!” shouted Roger.
Arthur’s teeth were gritted and his face was trembling with anger. “I don’t care how badly you hurt every night. I don’t care what kind of nightmares you wake up from. What you’re doing is wrong. It’s about as wrong as it gets! Torturing prisoners is not what we’re all about and neither is random murder! The sooner you come to terms with that, the sooner your own cohorts will give you peace!”
Roger held his blade to the king’s throat and a trickle of blood ran down the royalty’s neck. Arthur remained brave as he stared death in the face with a poisonous frown. “Go ahead and kill me! I’ve already made up my mind as to who’s taking over my throne! Daniel Mercer is more of a leader than you could ever be in your lifetime! He doesn’t need a machete to get his point across! He has something even more powerful than a blade or a gun: his voice.”
Roger pressed the blade to Arthur’s neck even further without killing him or drawing more blood. After a lengthy stare-down between the two with twitching faces and raging expressions, the zealot sheathed his weapon once more and slowly backed away before folding his arms. He then smiled and said, “Slashing your neck would be too easy. After what you’ve done to my men, you deserve a much slower death than that. I reckon those ravens and crows are getting hungry right about now. It wouldn’t be right of me to deny them a fresh meal.”
“Do your worst, you psychotic bastard,” spat Arthur. “Before the birds dine on my facial features, there’s something you need to know. You can’t win, Roger. Your quest of pain and agony is about to come crashing down around you. The elves and the humans will know peace once again.”
Roger chuckled and said, “Is that really the fantasy that keeps you going throughout your elder years? And here I thought the slow burn of old age would have erased that shit from your head a long time ago!”
“It’s not a fantasy, Roger. It’s the truth,” said the king. “While you were busy waging war with your own kind and committing all sorts of treasonous crimes, I’ve reached out to a few of my brand new friends. As it turns out, you’ve angered a lot of people with your heinous murders.”
“Of course I’ve angered people! At least now those media anchors have something worthwhile to talk about instead of some movie star taking a shit in public!”
“I’m afraid it’s much worse than that, Roger,” said Arthur with a half-smile. “You’ve pissed off…a lot of people. You’ve manipulated the police department from the inside and led many of those people to their deaths. You’ve slaughtered entire arenas full of people. You’ve taken folk heroes away from the public eye. You think their families and friends are going to be afraid of you forever? Fear can only work for so long before these “faggots and hippies” as you call them grow a solid steel spine. It’s over, Roger. It’s all over!”
“Ha!” shouted Roger. “You really think an army of nitwits is going to pose any kind of threat to me?! This whole campaign of mine was based on the idea of me slaughtering large numbers of people! Bring your cops, your bouncers, your social justice warriors, your fan boys, your fan girls, I will slay the shit out of each and every one of them! And the best part about all of this? Their blood will be on your hands, Arty-Boy! You called them over here, and now they’re going to look great lying face down in the mud!”
After the zealot let out a thunderous laughter, Arthur said, “Keep telling yourself that, you vile scum! Maybe if you say it long enough, the voices in your head will agree with you on something other than murder and torture!”
“Enough!” bellowed Roger, creating a chasm of silence between himself and the king of elves. “The more I think about it, the more I start to wonder if crucifying your pathetic ass is too good for you. Yes, I believe I’ve arrived at that point with you, my king. You’ve actually managed to be so annoying that the slowest of slow torture won’t be enough for you.”
Roger reached in his pocket and pulled out a magical crown of thorns not unlike the ones he placed on the heads of Johnny Vega and Sonia Marquez prior to their deaths. Arthur gazed upon the unholy artifact with wide-eyed fear. “Those were supposed to be banned a long time ago! Why did you have one in your pocket?!”
“Once again, your false wisdom amazes me, my king. Just because there’s a law against something, doesn’t mean it’s not going to exist. If the human nation figured that out with guns, we’d have a lot less dead motherfuckers in the earthly realm. You see, my liege, before your little army of halfwits come riding into battle with their horses and their chariots, you and I are going to have some company in the form of your future king and his two protégés Bevis and Butthead. We’ll see how much your daughter loves you when you’re the one slinging the sword instead of me!”
Roger formed a slasher smile on his face as he slowly approached King Arthur Triscloud with the crown of thorns in hand. The elderly ruler struggled and thrashed in his bindings while yelling, “No!” repeatedly. The longest “No!” sounded off like a crack of lightning as Roger wrapped the magical thorns around the king’s head. Every barb and every spike seeped its way into the king’s brain until the last synaptic neuron became Roger’s personal puppet string. Arthur’s eyes glowed a brilliant fiery red while his new master cackled with delight.
April 12, 2017
Illness
***ILLNESS***
The Mexican cruise and the Californian trip was without a doubt the most fun I’ve had in a while with the major highlight being the sea lion and stingray encounters in Puerto Vallarta. Coming home from this lengthy vacation was supposed to be a nonstop relaxation fest where I snuggled with kitties and slept soundly in my own bed. But last Wednesday was anything but relaxing. I got some writing done that day, so that was worth celebrating. It was the boiling hot fever I got at the end of the night that set the tone for the rest of the week. And thus begins the very boring blog topic of…(yawn)…physical illness. Grab a pillow. It’s going to be a long one.
The night I had the fever, I also vomited in the toilet several times and had loose diarrhea. My sickness got so bad that I elected not to use my CPAP for fear that I might puke in it in my sleep. My breath was also so hot that it made the mask uncomfortable. I spent most of that night drinking Sparkling Ices and staying awake in my computer and reading chairs. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well that night and it would get worse over the next two days.
More vomiting ensued, so much so that my ribs were sore afterwards. Every time I would cough or sneeze, my rib pain would flare up. I was practically begging my mom to take me to the chiropractor after my sickness was over. Because I had more loose diarrhea and vomiting, instead of a chiropractor, I spent Friday night in the hospital. I had to be rehydrated with four pounds of water, but I probably lost even more than that throughout the sickness. What a hell of a way to lose weight.
During my stay in the hospital, I had a CAT scan to make sure I didn’t have appendicitis (I had gut pains on the right side of my body). I was greatly relieved when I tested negative, so chances are this whole sickness of mine was due to a virus going around or potentially food poisoning. The bug made more sense because my brother James and step-dad Dale got sick as well. My mom was already dealing with a bout of whooping cough once we got off the cruise ship. This whole week has just been one big barfaroni fest for all of us.
As a result of our collective sicknesses, my family has a shit ton of Gatorade and Campbell’s soup stocked up around the house. I didn’t start eating solid foods until just a few days ago. I’m doing much better today than I was a week ago. In fact, I might even go for a walk to the convenience store later today. It used to be that I was too weak and lazy to do basic chores like clean the litter box or take out the garbage. While I’m still sneezing and coughing like crazy, a sense of normalcy has been restored to the Haines-Temons-Stevens-Wilson household. Normal is good.
I can only hope that we’re all feeling well enough to see Garrison Keillor perform tomorrow night in Tacoma. We need him now more than ever in this Trump-ruled country. It’s going to be me, mom, Dale, and my therapist Rachel tagging along to see Mr. Keillor do his monologues. I hope it’s a wonderful performance! We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 19***
In the interest of head-hopping fun (because that’s totally acceptable in literature), this chapter is going to focus on a confrontation between King Arthur Triscloud and Roger Zee. Arthur is bound to a crucifix atop a holy mountain with Roger Zee lecturing him the entire time. The two of them have a conversation about Roger’s motives and wondering just what the hell has gotten into him. It is during this conversation that Arthur reveals that he has some “special friends” coming for him and that Roger should heed his warning. The zealot laughs it off like it’s standup comedy, but is that a wise approach to such a stern threat?
***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
MICHAEL: At least your name isn’t Michael Bolton.
SAMIR: You know, there’s nothing wrong with that name.
MICHAEL: There WAS nothing wrong with it, until I was about twelve years old and that no-talent ass-clown became famous and started winning Grammies.
SAMIR: Why don’t you go by Mike instead of Michael?
MICHAEL: No way! Why should I change? He’s the one who sucks.
-Office Space-
The Mexican cruise and the Californian trip was without a doubt the most fun I’ve had in a while with the major highlight being the sea lion and stingray encounters in Puerto Vallarta. Coming home from this lengthy vacation was supposed to be a nonstop relaxation fest where I snuggled with kitties and slept soundly in my own bed. But last Wednesday was anything but relaxing. I got some writing done that day, so that was worth celebrating. It was the boiling hot fever I got at the end of the night that set the tone for the rest of the week. And thus begins the very boring blog topic of…(yawn)…physical illness. Grab a pillow. It’s going to be a long one.
The night I had the fever, I also vomited in the toilet several times and had loose diarrhea. My sickness got so bad that I elected not to use my CPAP for fear that I might puke in it in my sleep. My breath was also so hot that it made the mask uncomfortable. I spent most of that night drinking Sparkling Ices and staying awake in my computer and reading chairs. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well that night and it would get worse over the next two days.
More vomiting ensued, so much so that my ribs were sore afterwards. Every time I would cough or sneeze, my rib pain would flare up. I was practically begging my mom to take me to the chiropractor after my sickness was over. Because I had more loose diarrhea and vomiting, instead of a chiropractor, I spent Friday night in the hospital. I had to be rehydrated with four pounds of water, but I probably lost even more than that throughout the sickness. What a hell of a way to lose weight.
During my stay in the hospital, I had a CAT scan to make sure I didn’t have appendicitis (I had gut pains on the right side of my body). I was greatly relieved when I tested negative, so chances are this whole sickness of mine was due to a virus going around or potentially food poisoning. The bug made more sense because my brother James and step-dad Dale got sick as well. My mom was already dealing with a bout of whooping cough once we got off the cruise ship. This whole week has just been one big barfaroni fest for all of us.
As a result of our collective sicknesses, my family has a shit ton of Gatorade and Campbell’s soup stocked up around the house. I didn’t start eating solid foods until just a few days ago. I’m doing much better today than I was a week ago. In fact, I might even go for a walk to the convenience store later today. It used to be that I was too weak and lazy to do basic chores like clean the litter box or take out the garbage. While I’m still sneezing and coughing like crazy, a sense of normalcy has been restored to the Haines-Temons-Stevens-Wilson household. Normal is good.
I can only hope that we’re all feeling well enough to see Garrison Keillor perform tomorrow night in Tacoma. We need him now more than ever in this Trump-ruled country. It’s going to be me, mom, Dale, and my therapist Rachel tagging along to see Mr. Keillor do his monologues. I hope it’s a wonderful performance! We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 19***
In the interest of head-hopping fun (because that’s totally acceptable in literature), this chapter is going to focus on a confrontation between King Arthur Triscloud and Roger Zee. Arthur is bound to a crucifix atop a holy mountain with Roger Zee lecturing him the entire time. The two of them have a conversation about Roger’s motives and wondering just what the hell has gotten into him. It is during this conversation that Arthur reveals that he has some “special friends” coming for him and that Roger should heed his warning. The zealot laughs it off like it’s standup comedy, but is that a wise approach to such a stern threat?
***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
MICHAEL: At least your name isn’t Michael Bolton.
SAMIR: You know, there’s nothing wrong with that name.
MICHAEL: There WAS nothing wrong with it, until I was about twelve years old and that no-talent ass-clown became famous and started winning Grammies.
SAMIR: Why don’t you go by Mike instead of Michael?
MICHAEL: No way! Why should I change? He’s the one who sucks.
-Office Space-
April 11, 2017
Shadow Hawk
VERSE 1
Shadow Hawk! Let your soul fly free!
Become the destroyer you were meant to be!
Shadow Hawk! Bring darkness to this land!
Bury those fuckers beneath the dirt and sand!
Shadow Hawk! Take back what’s yours!
Even if you have to fight a thousand wars!
Shadow Hawk! Set the world on fire!
Make them call you their immortal messiah!
CHORUS 1
With dirty blankets and loaded guns
They slaughtered daughters and murdered sons
Smothered mothers with dirt, enslaved the fathers
Shadow Hawk! You’re our only author!
VERSE 2
Conquerors! Your day has finally arrived!
To be shot with arrows and butchered with knives!
Conquerors! Run while you still have a chance!
Never mind the rotten smell running down your pants!
Conquerors! You’ve already lost this war!
Shadow Hawk can smell the fear oozing from your pores!
Conquerors! Open season has begun!
We could show you mercy, but where’s the fucking fun?
CHORUS 2
With dirty blankets and loaded guns
You slaughtered daughters and murdered sons
Smothered mothers with dirt, enslaved the fathers
Conquerors! You shouldn’t have crossed the waters!
BRIDGE
Sacrifice!
Pay the price!
Shadow Hawk!
It’s time to rock!
Conquerors!
Slaughterers!
Vengeance is ours!
Take back the power!
CHORUS 3
With dirty blankets and loaded guns
History’s lessons rotted in the sun
Smothered graves with dirt, enslaved the sheep
But the Shadow Hawk will never sleep!
Open a book before you open your lips
This is bigger than the .45’s on your hips
This is bigger than what you see on TV
Because staying comfortable is too easy!
Shadow Hawk! Let your soul fly free!
Become the destroyer you were meant to be!
Shadow Hawk! Bring darkness to this land!
Bury those fuckers beneath the dirt and sand!
Shadow Hawk! Take back what’s yours!
Even if you have to fight a thousand wars!
Shadow Hawk! Set the world on fire!
Make them call you their immortal messiah!
CHORUS 1
With dirty blankets and loaded guns
They slaughtered daughters and murdered sons
Smothered mothers with dirt, enslaved the fathers
Shadow Hawk! You’re our only author!
VERSE 2
Conquerors! Your day has finally arrived!
To be shot with arrows and butchered with knives!
Conquerors! Run while you still have a chance!
Never mind the rotten smell running down your pants!
Conquerors! You’ve already lost this war!
Shadow Hawk can smell the fear oozing from your pores!
Conquerors! Open season has begun!
We could show you mercy, but where’s the fucking fun?
CHORUS 2
With dirty blankets and loaded guns
You slaughtered daughters and murdered sons
Smothered mothers with dirt, enslaved the fathers
Conquerors! You shouldn’t have crossed the waters!
BRIDGE
Sacrifice!
Pay the price!
Shadow Hawk!
It’s time to rock!
Conquerors!
Slaughterers!
Vengeance is ours!
Take back the power!
CHORUS 3
With dirty blankets and loaded guns
History’s lessons rotted in the sun
Smothered graves with dirt, enslaved the sheep
But the Shadow Hawk will never sleep!
Open a book before you open your lips
This is bigger than the .45’s on your hips
This is bigger than what you see on TV
Because staying comfortable is too easy!
April 9, 2017
Ghost
CHORUS 1
You’re just a ghost
With no love to boast
Gone with the wind
Are all of your sins
The shit in the past
Is never built to last
You’re just a ghost
Whose ass is toast
VERSE 1
If I wanted ghost stories, I’d sit at the campfire
Instead all I’m listening to is a fucking bad liar
Twisting the truth like the arms of your victims
Turning the strongest men into prison bitches
A haunted house isn’t good enough for you
A dark cemetery is where you’ll forever stew
Banging on the gates in search of your freedom
As if somewhere beyond is the Garden of Eden
CHORUS 1
You’re just a ghost
With no love to boast
Gone with the wind
Are all of your sins
The shit in the past
Is never built to last
You’re just a ghost
Whose ass is toast
VERSE 2
The spiritual realm has been calling your name
Like a chorus of boos stripping you of your fame
Like a necromantic chant in a sacrificial ritual
Like a street corner sermon of a sick individual
Consider this your one and only eviction notice
It’s extermination time for the swarm of locusts
There’s nothing left here for you to feed on
No more tortured souls for you to beat on
BRIDGE
If there’s something strange in your neighborhood
Burn it to the ground with gasoline and wood
If there’s a ghost in your brain that’s causing you pain
Flush that shit out and watch it swirl down the drain
CHORUS 2
You’re just a ghost
A parasite to the host
Gone with the wind
Let the new wave begin
The shit in the past
Is never coming back
You’re just a ghost
With no bail to post
FINAL LINES
You’re just a ghost!
You’re just a ghost!
Of all the hatred I could give
You deserve it the most!
You’re just a ghost
With no love to boast
Gone with the wind
Are all of your sins
The shit in the past
Is never built to last
You’re just a ghost
Whose ass is toast
VERSE 1
If I wanted ghost stories, I’d sit at the campfire
Instead all I’m listening to is a fucking bad liar
Twisting the truth like the arms of your victims
Turning the strongest men into prison bitches
A haunted house isn’t good enough for you
A dark cemetery is where you’ll forever stew
Banging on the gates in search of your freedom
As if somewhere beyond is the Garden of Eden
CHORUS 1
You’re just a ghost
With no love to boast
Gone with the wind
Are all of your sins
The shit in the past
Is never built to last
You’re just a ghost
Whose ass is toast
VERSE 2
The spiritual realm has been calling your name
Like a chorus of boos stripping you of your fame
Like a necromantic chant in a sacrificial ritual
Like a street corner sermon of a sick individual
Consider this your one and only eviction notice
It’s extermination time for the swarm of locusts
There’s nothing left here for you to feed on
No more tortured souls for you to beat on
BRIDGE
If there’s something strange in your neighborhood
Burn it to the ground with gasoline and wood
If there’s a ghost in your brain that’s causing you pain
Flush that shit out and watch it swirl down the drain
CHORUS 2
You’re just a ghost
A parasite to the host
Gone with the wind
Let the new wave begin
The shit in the past
Is never coming back
You’re just a ghost
With no bail to post
FINAL LINES
You’re just a ghost!
You’re just a ghost!
Of all the hatred I could give
You deserve it the most!
April 8, 2017
Demon Axe, Chapter 18
This heavy metal opera had to end somewhere and Daniel Mercer pictured all the possible ways it could in his sick and twisted mind. He rode in the back of the SWAT van staring daggers into his magical microphone as his imagination ran wild. Was it as easy as screaming in Roger Zee’s ears and making his head explode? Did there have to be a special message behind the song? For all Daniel knew, he could sing the elf zealot a lullaby and slit his throat in his sleep.
Since it was the life of Raven’s father at stake, perhaps she could be the one to finish him off. Slice his head off his shoulders like a circumcision (because he was such a dickhead). Sodomize him with the blade. Cut his legs off and watch him crawl away. Such thoughts brought a wicked smile to Daniel’s face. Watching his newfound love sharpening her blade with a whetstone brought a flutter to his heart that not even a cocaine high was capable of.
Daniel snapped out of his violent fantasy when the SWAT van took a huge bump and bounced his head off the roof. The heavy metal god growled in pain and clutched his head while unleashing a horde of colorful swear words. Raven patted him on the shoulder to see if he was okay and he said in no uncertain terms, “I’m fine!”
Shawn Henry, the driver of the van, slammed on the brakes and caused Daniel and Raven to lurch toward the front, almost like being taken for a nickel ride. The Lord of the Pit shouted, “Hey! Quit driving like a fucking drunk! You got to be careful, damn it!”
Through the partition, the rock and roll couple could hear the door slamming shut and booted feet sloshing in the mud while Shawn appeared to be yelling, “No, no, no, no!” Daniel and Raven looked at each other with confusion and concern before exiting the vehicle themselves to see what was going on.
Shawn stood over two corpses with his muscles tightened, his fists clenched, and a shaking complexion reminiscent of tears. One of the dead bodies was a grown woman in a sundress about Shawn’s age. The other was a small child who looked barely old enough to register what was happening to the Henry clan. Deep gashes covered their bodies to where bones were showing. Organs poured out of those wounds like rotten milk. Their groins and inner thighs had bruises the size of mountains. Shawn Henry had seen a lot of death in his career, but nothing prepared him for this: the sight of his wife and daughter discarded on a muddy rode like common trash.
Raven tiptoed toward Shawn and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, to which the sobbing detective waved it away and shouted, “Don’t touch me! Please, don’t touch me!” She honored this by slowly backpedaling in the arms of Daniel. The detective dropped to his knees and held the heads of his wife and daughter against his chest before letting out a combination of a lion’s roar and a sorrowful burst of tears. Even a brave warrior like Raven couldn’t help but shed a tear or two.
For Daniel Mercer, watching death never got any easier. He had been exposed to so much of it over the course of this quest. He even glorified it in his music, hence the genre death metal. All he could do was wrap his arm around his girlfriend and stare blankly at the emotional trauma Shawn Henry was going through. When would enough be enough for someone like Roger Zee? How many people had to die because of his strong beliefs? What was the point of all this? Whatever joy Daniel felt fantasizing about Roger’s death was blown away like ashes in the wind at the sight of this honorable cop in a vulnerable moment.
“Great plan, Einstein,” said a familiar voice in Daniel’s head. With wide-eyed hyper-vigilance, he scoped the muddy forest for the source of the voice and saw the mangled ghost of Bear Man haunting his mind. “Complete disregard the safety of someone’s family and now look what happened to them. Nice job, buddy. Sounds familiar to me.”
“You shut the fuck up! I’ve had it up to here with you!” bellowed the Lord of the Pit.
“Daniel, who are you talking to?” asked Raven in a worried tone.
Lady Killer was next poltergeist to invade Daniel’s mind. “Why should we shut up, Daniel, are we saying things that you don’t like to hear? But isn’t that what you’ve been doing this whole time? Didn’t you make your living that way?”
“I’m sick of you motherfuckers blaming me for everything! You want to blame someone for all of this, blame Roger Zee! He’s the one who’s doing this to us! Go torture him instead of me! I’m the one trying to help you guys!” screamed Daniel.
“Daniel, stop it!” cried Raven.
The rest of Daniel’s band mates, Demon Axe or otherwise, floated in a circle around him and barked insults at him to deafening levels. Daniel held his ears and groaned loudly while Raven was trying to shake him out of it. “Daniel, please! Stop it! You’re scaring me!”
“That’s right, Lord of the Pit!” said the ghosts in a unified demonic voice. “You’d better stop it before you drive another loved one to their death!” The ghosts snorted and snickered while bathing in red electricity and purple smoke.
Even more lights began to flash in Daniel’s mind, much like the strobe pattern of when he was tortured with his own music. Right then he was being tortured by people he thought were his friends. True friends didn’t pass blame or judgment. Shawn’s wife and daughter would never blame him for their deaths. Neither should these band mates.
Daniel released his head and shouted into the skies (sans microphone), “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” The electricity and smoke faded into nothingness and the ghosts were silent with shame. “Nobody put a gun to your heads and made you join my band! You came here on your own volitions! But I can tell you guys don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore! If that’s what you want, then give me your masks! You’ve lost your right to play music with me! Come on, fork ‘em over! I’m sick of this goddamn shit! Hand ‘em over, now!”
The ghosts barely gazed at each other with hung heads before shrugging their shoulders and floating over to Daniel to do what they were told. One by one, the masks came off as the spirits floated away into smoke and dust. As the Lord of the Pit collected the masks, he gave them in return their old identities.
“You’re not Vulture Man. You’re Roman John. You’re not Pig Man. You’re Chris James. You’re not G-Pac. You’re Donald Brock. You sure as shit aren’t Bear Man. Phil Charles you’ll be. Fork it over, Lady Killer. Your real name is CJ Bill. Fuck you, Tarantula Man. Your name is Ahmed Tehran.” Once the last of the masks was collected, Daniel cast his finger off and angrily whispered, “Get the fuck out of my head!” The dust and smoke swirled into a vortex and was sucked into the dark gray skies. The Lord of the Pit threw the masks out in the distance and watched them fizzle out as well.
A solitary tear ran down the singer’s face as his traumatic anger played out in front of him. Whether or not this was a permanent solution for closure was answered when he heard the soothing, opera-style voice of Raven singing into the magical microphone. He snapped out of his trance and gazed at his girlfriend with loving and damp eyes. She sounded beautiful. Where did she learn to sing like that? Did the elves care that deeply about music? Every note of that operatic chant felt as soothing as a warm breeze in a field of flowers, a far cry from the muddy and corpse-ridden forest they had been driving through.
Daniel hugged his girlfriend tightly and said in an emotional voice, “I love you, Raven. Don’t ever forget that.”
“I love you too, Daniel. You’ll always be the Lord of the Pit to me,” she whispered as she hugged him back.
Also snapping out of his traumatic outburst was Shawn Henry, who was now standing over the corpses of his family with vicious confidence on his face instead of sorrow. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch. I’m going to kill him badly. Daniel, you better not act like that in the middle of battle or that shotgun shell will be meant for you. You’d better scream your fucking head off until Roger can’t stand it anymore.”
“You don’t have to worry about me anymore, Shawn. I want that piece of shit as much as you do. Let’s go!”
Since it was the life of Raven’s father at stake, perhaps she could be the one to finish him off. Slice his head off his shoulders like a circumcision (because he was such a dickhead). Sodomize him with the blade. Cut his legs off and watch him crawl away. Such thoughts brought a wicked smile to Daniel’s face. Watching his newfound love sharpening her blade with a whetstone brought a flutter to his heart that not even a cocaine high was capable of.
Daniel snapped out of his violent fantasy when the SWAT van took a huge bump and bounced his head off the roof. The heavy metal god growled in pain and clutched his head while unleashing a horde of colorful swear words. Raven patted him on the shoulder to see if he was okay and he said in no uncertain terms, “I’m fine!”
Shawn Henry, the driver of the van, slammed on the brakes and caused Daniel and Raven to lurch toward the front, almost like being taken for a nickel ride. The Lord of the Pit shouted, “Hey! Quit driving like a fucking drunk! You got to be careful, damn it!”
Through the partition, the rock and roll couple could hear the door slamming shut and booted feet sloshing in the mud while Shawn appeared to be yelling, “No, no, no, no!” Daniel and Raven looked at each other with confusion and concern before exiting the vehicle themselves to see what was going on.
Shawn stood over two corpses with his muscles tightened, his fists clenched, and a shaking complexion reminiscent of tears. One of the dead bodies was a grown woman in a sundress about Shawn’s age. The other was a small child who looked barely old enough to register what was happening to the Henry clan. Deep gashes covered their bodies to where bones were showing. Organs poured out of those wounds like rotten milk. Their groins and inner thighs had bruises the size of mountains. Shawn Henry had seen a lot of death in his career, but nothing prepared him for this: the sight of his wife and daughter discarded on a muddy rode like common trash.
Raven tiptoed toward Shawn and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, to which the sobbing detective waved it away and shouted, “Don’t touch me! Please, don’t touch me!” She honored this by slowly backpedaling in the arms of Daniel. The detective dropped to his knees and held the heads of his wife and daughter against his chest before letting out a combination of a lion’s roar and a sorrowful burst of tears. Even a brave warrior like Raven couldn’t help but shed a tear or two.
For Daniel Mercer, watching death never got any easier. He had been exposed to so much of it over the course of this quest. He even glorified it in his music, hence the genre death metal. All he could do was wrap his arm around his girlfriend and stare blankly at the emotional trauma Shawn Henry was going through. When would enough be enough for someone like Roger Zee? How many people had to die because of his strong beliefs? What was the point of all this? Whatever joy Daniel felt fantasizing about Roger’s death was blown away like ashes in the wind at the sight of this honorable cop in a vulnerable moment.
“Great plan, Einstein,” said a familiar voice in Daniel’s head. With wide-eyed hyper-vigilance, he scoped the muddy forest for the source of the voice and saw the mangled ghost of Bear Man haunting his mind. “Complete disregard the safety of someone’s family and now look what happened to them. Nice job, buddy. Sounds familiar to me.”
“You shut the fuck up! I’ve had it up to here with you!” bellowed the Lord of the Pit.
“Daniel, who are you talking to?” asked Raven in a worried tone.
Lady Killer was next poltergeist to invade Daniel’s mind. “Why should we shut up, Daniel, are we saying things that you don’t like to hear? But isn’t that what you’ve been doing this whole time? Didn’t you make your living that way?”
“I’m sick of you motherfuckers blaming me for everything! You want to blame someone for all of this, blame Roger Zee! He’s the one who’s doing this to us! Go torture him instead of me! I’m the one trying to help you guys!” screamed Daniel.
“Daniel, stop it!” cried Raven.
The rest of Daniel’s band mates, Demon Axe or otherwise, floated in a circle around him and barked insults at him to deafening levels. Daniel held his ears and groaned loudly while Raven was trying to shake him out of it. “Daniel, please! Stop it! You’re scaring me!”
“That’s right, Lord of the Pit!” said the ghosts in a unified demonic voice. “You’d better stop it before you drive another loved one to their death!” The ghosts snorted and snickered while bathing in red electricity and purple smoke.
Even more lights began to flash in Daniel’s mind, much like the strobe pattern of when he was tortured with his own music. Right then he was being tortured by people he thought were his friends. True friends didn’t pass blame or judgment. Shawn’s wife and daughter would never blame him for their deaths. Neither should these band mates.
Daniel released his head and shouted into the skies (sans microphone), “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” The electricity and smoke faded into nothingness and the ghosts were silent with shame. “Nobody put a gun to your heads and made you join my band! You came here on your own volitions! But I can tell you guys don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore! If that’s what you want, then give me your masks! You’ve lost your right to play music with me! Come on, fork ‘em over! I’m sick of this goddamn shit! Hand ‘em over, now!”
The ghosts barely gazed at each other with hung heads before shrugging their shoulders and floating over to Daniel to do what they were told. One by one, the masks came off as the spirits floated away into smoke and dust. As the Lord of the Pit collected the masks, he gave them in return their old identities.
“You’re not Vulture Man. You’re Roman John. You’re not Pig Man. You’re Chris James. You’re not G-Pac. You’re Donald Brock. You sure as shit aren’t Bear Man. Phil Charles you’ll be. Fork it over, Lady Killer. Your real name is CJ Bill. Fuck you, Tarantula Man. Your name is Ahmed Tehran.” Once the last of the masks was collected, Daniel cast his finger off and angrily whispered, “Get the fuck out of my head!” The dust and smoke swirled into a vortex and was sucked into the dark gray skies. The Lord of the Pit threw the masks out in the distance and watched them fizzle out as well.
A solitary tear ran down the singer’s face as his traumatic anger played out in front of him. Whether or not this was a permanent solution for closure was answered when he heard the soothing, opera-style voice of Raven singing into the magical microphone. He snapped out of his trance and gazed at his girlfriend with loving and damp eyes. She sounded beautiful. Where did she learn to sing like that? Did the elves care that deeply about music? Every note of that operatic chant felt as soothing as a warm breeze in a field of flowers, a far cry from the muddy and corpse-ridden forest they had been driving through.
Daniel hugged his girlfriend tightly and said in an emotional voice, “I love you, Raven. Don’t ever forget that.”
“I love you too, Daniel. You’ll always be the Lord of the Pit to me,” she whispered as she hugged him back.
Also snapping out of his traumatic outburst was Shawn Henry, who was now standing over the corpses of his family with vicious confidence on his face instead of sorrow. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch. I’m going to kill him badly. Daniel, you better not act like that in the middle of battle or that shotgun shell will be meant for you. You’d better scream your fucking head off until Roger can’t stand it anymore.”
“You don’t have to worry about me anymore, Shawn. I want that piece of shit as much as you do. Let’s go!”
April 5, 2017
Moana
MOVIE TITLE: Moana
DIRECTORS: Ron Clements and John Musker
YEAR: 2016
GENRE: Children’s Animation
RATING: G
GRADE: Pass
In ancient Polynesia, the demigod Maui steals a gem from the island goddess, unwittingly causing a lava demon to rise from the sea and spread a disease across the islands. Motunui is the latest target of this blight when its crops and fishes are dying rapidly. A future chieftain girl named Moana must now sail across the ocean and convince Maui to return the stolen gem to the island goddess. When Maui’s arrogance and Moana’s stubbornness clash, the quest to save the world becomes jeopardized. But the more time this unlikely team spends together, the more they get used to each other’s company, giving them a better chance of righting Maui’s wrongs.
Seeing as how Maui is a muscular human with a barbed wit and heroic athleticism, it only makes sense that Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson provides his voice. Fans of WWE know how good of a trash talker he was and fans of his Hollywood resume know how much of a warrior he can be. Whether he’s a WWE champion, a GI Joe soldier with a chain gun, an FBI agent with an insanely fast car, or a self-centered demigod with a magical fish hook that’s bigger than he is, The Rock is a certified stud no matter what role he takes. He’s energetic, he’s hilarious, and he never misses a beat. I wouldn’t want anybody else taking the role of Maui. It just wouldn’t be right. The Rock’s performance is dead-on and justifiable of his million dollar salary.
Another thing I enjoyed about this movie was the environmental overtones. Yes, the fantasy elements such as the mystical gem and the lava monster don’t fit in with modern day politics, but the message is still the same: treat mother earth with respect and she’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. If you take too much from her or abuse her in any way, you’re going to feel her wrath. Only take as many fish as you need, plant crops with abundance, and keep the animals and plant-life safe. It’s a simple message that doesn’t get heard enough. Think of Moana as a Disney-animated fantasy version of a Carl Hiaasen novel. Sure, Mr. Hiaasen’s novels don’t have lava monsters, but sometimes the worst monsters are the more realistic ones, like humans.
The final thing I want to touch on is the beauty of the Polynesian world in which Disney created. The clear blue water of the ocean looks like a lot of fun to drink and swim in. The palm tree forests and sandy beaches are vacation-worthy, which is funny considering I watched this movie on a Mexican cruise ship. The character designs are also lovable whether it’s the overly stupid chicken Heihei, the cuddly piggy baby that lives on Moana’s island, or even the gigantic gold and jewel-encrusted crab who’s holding Maui’s magical fishhook hostage. This is a world I wouldn’t mind living in despite the blight spreading across the islands. I would go swimming every day and eat fish until the end of time. Maybe I would even cuddle with Heihei and the piggy. Aww!
Moana is a beautifully executed movie with more high points than I’m capable of listing in this short review. If you like strong female characters, you’ll love the title protagonist. If you like beautiful scenery, you’ll love this movie as a whole. If you love comedic conversations, look no further than Dwayne Johnson and his portrayal of Maui. I would be hard pressed to find a single flaw within this movie. Yes, I know this movie has received a lot of criticism from the Polynesian community, but I prefer to enjoy a good movie instead of dwell in negativity. A passing grade goes to this lovely piece of children’s cinema!
DIRECTORS: Ron Clements and John Musker
YEAR: 2016
GENRE: Children’s Animation
RATING: G
GRADE: Pass
In ancient Polynesia, the demigod Maui steals a gem from the island goddess, unwittingly causing a lava demon to rise from the sea and spread a disease across the islands. Motunui is the latest target of this blight when its crops and fishes are dying rapidly. A future chieftain girl named Moana must now sail across the ocean and convince Maui to return the stolen gem to the island goddess. When Maui’s arrogance and Moana’s stubbornness clash, the quest to save the world becomes jeopardized. But the more time this unlikely team spends together, the more they get used to each other’s company, giving them a better chance of righting Maui’s wrongs.
Seeing as how Maui is a muscular human with a barbed wit and heroic athleticism, it only makes sense that Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson provides his voice. Fans of WWE know how good of a trash talker he was and fans of his Hollywood resume know how much of a warrior he can be. Whether he’s a WWE champion, a GI Joe soldier with a chain gun, an FBI agent with an insanely fast car, or a self-centered demigod with a magical fish hook that’s bigger than he is, The Rock is a certified stud no matter what role he takes. He’s energetic, he’s hilarious, and he never misses a beat. I wouldn’t want anybody else taking the role of Maui. It just wouldn’t be right. The Rock’s performance is dead-on and justifiable of his million dollar salary.
Another thing I enjoyed about this movie was the environmental overtones. Yes, the fantasy elements such as the mystical gem and the lava monster don’t fit in with modern day politics, but the message is still the same: treat mother earth with respect and she’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted. If you take too much from her or abuse her in any way, you’re going to feel her wrath. Only take as many fish as you need, plant crops with abundance, and keep the animals and plant-life safe. It’s a simple message that doesn’t get heard enough. Think of Moana as a Disney-animated fantasy version of a Carl Hiaasen novel. Sure, Mr. Hiaasen’s novels don’t have lava monsters, but sometimes the worst monsters are the more realistic ones, like humans.
The final thing I want to touch on is the beauty of the Polynesian world in which Disney created. The clear blue water of the ocean looks like a lot of fun to drink and swim in. The palm tree forests and sandy beaches are vacation-worthy, which is funny considering I watched this movie on a Mexican cruise ship. The character designs are also lovable whether it’s the overly stupid chicken Heihei, the cuddly piggy baby that lives on Moana’s island, or even the gigantic gold and jewel-encrusted crab who’s holding Maui’s magical fishhook hostage. This is a world I wouldn’t mind living in despite the blight spreading across the islands. I would go swimming every day and eat fish until the end of time. Maybe I would even cuddle with Heihei and the piggy. Aww!
Moana is a beautifully executed movie with more high points than I’m capable of listing in this short review. If you like strong female characters, you’ll love the title protagonist. If you like beautiful scenery, you’ll love this movie as a whole. If you love comedic conversations, look no further than Dwayne Johnson and his portrayal of Maui. I would be hard pressed to find a single flaw within this movie. Yes, I know this movie has received a lot of criticism from the Polynesian community, but I prefer to enjoy a good movie instead of dwell in negativity. A passing grade goes to this lovely piece of children’s cinema!
Mexican Cruise and Californian Trip
***MEXICAN CRUISE AND CALIFORNIAN TRIP***
After a week and a half of fun in the sun, I’ve finally returned to the only place I could truly call home: Port Orchard, Washington. It’s pouring hard in the Pacific Northwest and it feels surprisingly good on my skin after spending so long south of the border. Speaking of water, because most of the places I went to were beaches with rough waters, I didn’t take any pictures due to the possibility of my camera getting short circuited. So instead of a photo gallery, I’m going to write this blog and hopefully that’ll be just as good. The mark of a good author, after all, is to keep a movie going on inside the reader’s head. So let’s get to it.
Mom, Dale, and I left the house on Sunday March 26th at 2:00 in the morning to fly out to Los Angeles, California, where the Mexican cruise ship was docked. This was easily the most exhausting day of the trip since I had to wait so long to sleep in one of my cabin’s beds. I can’t sleep while sitting upright, only while I’m lying down, so resting on the plane was out of the question. When we finally got to our room at 1:00 in the afternoon, there were only two normal beds and then a bunk bed above one of them.
This is where our room attendant Dennis came in handy. This Filipino gentleman brought in a lower bed so that I didn’t have to climb up and down the bunk and potentially fall down or step on my mom. He also won us over with his bright and cheery personality and little animals he made for us out of towels and washcloths. Mom made sure to tip him as much as possible while giving him a glowing review on the feedback cards. I hope he earns a good salary on that ship, because he deserves every dollar he makes and more.
Monday and Tuesday were uneventful since those were the days we were out to sea, so we had to entertain ourselves. I got lots of reading done, I jotted down story and character ideas in my Lego journal, I got some exercise in, and I ate some damn good food. Most of the time during these days was spent catching up on Z’s after such a heavy day of traveling on Sunday. Mom and Dale snored like chainsaws whenever they weren’t watching MSNBC.
The first excursion took place Wednesday in Puerto Vallarta. While Mom and Dale were soaking up the sun on the beach, I climbed up and down god knows how many stairs on my way to a sea lion and stingray adventure. I actually got inside the pools where these cuddly animals were being kept. I petted them, hugged them, and even let the sea lion kiss me on the cheek, to which the creature nodded when asked by the trainer if he liked it. The sea lion and stingray were preparing me for the cuddliness that was waiting for me when I eventually got home with my own animals. I even heard one of the kids say that the sea lion looked like a giant puppy. Aww!
The second excursion was on Thursday and it was in Mazatlan, which when translated into English means “deer land”. My main activity here was riding around on a banana boat…twice. The first time was more thrilling than a rollercoaster and I howled in appreciation the whole ride through. Then I made the boneheaded decision to ride the boat again amidst rough waters and high waves. I got knocked off the side of the boat and yelled “HELP!” a few times before making my way back to shore and huffing and puffing in exhaustion.
Due to the sunburns and scariness of the previous excursion, Mom, Dale, and I decided riding around on a glass bottom boat to look at marine life was a better idea for the Cabo San Lucas excursion. Seals, pelicans, and fish were the main attractions of this ride and they were cuter than a bug’s ear, especially the seals congregated on a giant rock barking like puppy-dups. Every time I see a commercial on TV for Thompson’s Water Seal, I’m going to immediately think of these cuddly seal pies in Cabo San Lucas. I’m not sure if they would have been as friendly as the sea lion in Puerto Vallarta, but I want to snuggle with them anyways!
Saturday was spent sailing back to Los Angeles and Sunday was the official day we got off the ship. We spent a few days in California at a Hilton hotel where the beds were soft and spacious. Lord knows how long we were knocked out and snoring like lawnmowers, but it was dark outside by the time we woke up.
Monday was spent going on a Hollywood bus tour. We made stops at Venice Beach, the Hollywood walk of fame, Santa Monica, and…I forget where else. We chose this low-key activity instead of going to Disneyland since the latter required a lot of walking and my mom had knee surgery only months prior. Besides which, Disneyland was overrun with schoolchildren on spring break, so that would have meant standing in long ass lines to get on the rides. The Hollywood bus tour was plenty of fun on its own since my mom got pictures of Chinese theater handprints, walk of fame stars, and me posing with a guy in a Spiderman costume. Plus, we both got to pet a nameless tuxedo kitty on our way back from Venice Beach. So much cuteness!
Tuesday April 4th was when we finally flew home to sleep in our own beds, snuggle with our own animals, and use our own computers. Vacations can be fun, but there’s no greater feeling than coming back home to your own devices after being gone for so long. Smokey missed me. Maggie left a brown present for me to clean up. Plus, there’s a new addition to our animal family: a gray and white kitty named Chloe. I’ll have to get pictures of her since she’s too darn cute not to photograph.
So that’s what I’ve been doing for the past week and a half. Traveling is exhausting and computer time is minimal, so I didn’t get much done in the way of creativity aside from reading 130 pages of “A Nose For Justice” by Rita Mae Brown. Even now when I write this blog entry, I feel like I’ve gotten rusty since the last time I wrote. But hey, with a little more practice, I can get back in tiptop form. It’s not like I haven’t gone on long vacations before, so I’m definitely capable of coming back to life. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
VIC MACKEY: Do you want to catch this killer or not?
DAVID ACEVEDA: Wow. Going undercover as dirty cops. Do you think you can pull that off?
VIC MACKEY: We can try.
-The Shield, which, like my vacation, took place in Los Angeles and sometimes Mexico-
After a week and a half of fun in the sun, I’ve finally returned to the only place I could truly call home: Port Orchard, Washington. It’s pouring hard in the Pacific Northwest and it feels surprisingly good on my skin after spending so long south of the border. Speaking of water, because most of the places I went to were beaches with rough waters, I didn’t take any pictures due to the possibility of my camera getting short circuited. So instead of a photo gallery, I’m going to write this blog and hopefully that’ll be just as good. The mark of a good author, after all, is to keep a movie going on inside the reader’s head. So let’s get to it.
Mom, Dale, and I left the house on Sunday March 26th at 2:00 in the morning to fly out to Los Angeles, California, where the Mexican cruise ship was docked. This was easily the most exhausting day of the trip since I had to wait so long to sleep in one of my cabin’s beds. I can’t sleep while sitting upright, only while I’m lying down, so resting on the plane was out of the question. When we finally got to our room at 1:00 in the afternoon, there were only two normal beds and then a bunk bed above one of them.
This is where our room attendant Dennis came in handy. This Filipino gentleman brought in a lower bed so that I didn’t have to climb up and down the bunk and potentially fall down or step on my mom. He also won us over with his bright and cheery personality and little animals he made for us out of towels and washcloths. Mom made sure to tip him as much as possible while giving him a glowing review on the feedback cards. I hope he earns a good salary on that ship, because he deserves every dollar he makes and more.
Monday and Tuesday were uneventful since those were the days we were out to sea, so we had to entertain ourselves. I got lots of reading done, I jotted down story and character ideas in my Lego journal, I got some exercise in, and I ate some damn good food. Most of the time during these days was spent catching up on Z’s after such a heavy day of traveling on Sunday. Mom and Dale snored like chainsaws whenever they weren’t watching MSNBC.
The first excursion took place Wednesday in Puerto Vallarta. While Mom and Dale were soaking up the sun on the beach, I climbed up and down god knows how many stairs on my way to a sea lion and stingray adventure. I actually got inside the pools where these cuddly animals were being kept. I petted them, hugged them, and even let the sea lion kiss me on the cheek, to which the creature nodded when asked by the trainer if he liked it. The sea lion and stingray were preparing me for the cuddliness that was waiting for me when I eventually got home with my own animals. I even heard one of the kids say that the sea lion looked like a giant puppy. Aww!
The second excursion was on Thursday and it was in Mazatlan, which when translated into English means “deer land”. My main activity here was riding around on a banana boat…twice. The first time was more thrilling than a rollercoaster and I howled in appreciation the whole ride through. Then I made the boneheaded decision to ride the boat again amidst rough waters and high waves. I got knocked off the side of the boat and yelled “HELP!” a few times before making my way back to shore and huffing and puffing in exhaustion.
Due to the sunburns and scariness of the previous excursion, Mom, Dale, and I decided riding around on a glass bottom boat to look at marine life was a better idea for the Cabo San Lucas excursion. Seals, pelicans, and fish were the main attractions of this ride and they were cuter than a bug’s ear, especially the seals congregated on a giant rock barking like puppy-dups. Every time I see a commercial on TV for Thompson’s Water Seal, I’m going to immediately think of these cuddly seal pies in Cabo San Lucas. I’m not sure if they would have been as friendly as the sea lion in Puerto Vallarta, but I want to snuggle with them anyways!
Saturday was spent sailing back to Los Angeles and Sunday was the official day we got off the ship. We spent a few days in California at a Hilton hotel where the beds were soft and spacious. Lord knows how long we were knocked out and snoring like lawnmowers, but it was dark outside by the time we woke up.
Monday was spent going on a Hollywood bus tour. We made stops at Venice Beach, the Hollywood walk of fame, Santa Monica, and…I forget where else. We chose this low-key activity instead of going to Disneyland since the latter required a lot of walking and my mom had knee surgery only months prior. Besides which, Disneyland was overrun with schoolchildren on spring break, so that would have meant standing in long ass lines to get on the rides. The Hollywood bus tour was plenty of fun on its own since my mom got pictures of Chinese theater handprints, walk of fame stars, and me posing with a guy in a Spiderman costume. Plus, we both got to pet a nameless tuxedo kitty on our way back from Venice Beach. So much cuteness!
Tuesday April 4th was when we finally flew home to sleep in our own beds, snuggle with our own animals, and use our own computers. Vacations can be fun, but there’s no greater feeling than coming back home to your own devices after being gone for so long. Smokey missed me. Maggie left a brown present for me to clean up. Plus, there’s a new addition to our animal family: a gray and white kitty named Chloe. I’ll have to get pictures of her since she’s too darn cute not to photograph.
So that’s what I’ve been doing for the past week and a half. Traveling is exhausting and computer time is minimal, so I didn’t get much done in the way of creativity aside from reading 130 pages of “A Nose For Justice” by Rita Mae Brown. Even now when I write this blog entry, I feel like I’ve gotten rusty since the last time I wrote. But hey, with a little more practice, I can get back in tiptop form. It’s not like I haven’t gone on long vacations before, so I’m definitely capable of coming back to life. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
VIC MACKEY: Do you want to catch this killer or not?
DAVID ACEVEDA: Wow. Going undercover as dirty cops. Do you think you can pull that off?
VIC MACKEY: We can try.
-The Shield, which, like my vacation, took place in Los Angeles and sometimes Mexico-
March 23, 2017
Mexican Cruise
***MEXICAN CRUISE***
From March 26th (this Sunday) to April 4th (next Tuesday), I’m going to have a minimal presence on the internet due to a Mexican cruise I’m going on with my parents with a trip to Disneyland afterwards. It feels good to get out of the house every then and what better way to do it than by embarking on a Mexican cruise? Beautiful beaches, beautiful women, beautiful sunshine…beautiful everything! I might even bring home a pair of Mickey Mouse ears, hopefully ones that will fit over my gigantic head.
As I’ve said with past vacations, my online presence will be reduced to answering messages here and there and nothing more. That means for the next two WSS contests (including this one), I’m going to withdraw my participation. No Demon Axe chapters until I get back home in my own beddy-bye with my own kitty-pie. Heh, that rhymes. Maybe I’ll get pairs of mouse ears for my kitties and puppies. Can you imagine how silly Maggie would look with Mickey Mouse ears? She already looks like a Disney dog, so what more could we possibly do? Hehe!
Adios, amigos! Thanks for reading!
***POISON TONGUE TALES***
My paperback copy of Poison Tongue Tales has finally arrived in the mail today. Everything looks in tiptop condition, so I gave my approval for publication and it’ll be a few days before my book becomes available on Amazon. A lot of hard work went into editing the hell out of this collection of short stories. I know it’ll be well-received by those who decide to buy a copy. My biggest thanks goes out to Marie Krepps for her wise-assed critiques and awesome cover-designing skills. She did a lot for me over the past few years and it’s a debt I can never repay no matter how hard I try. Thank you so much, Babe-a-Licious Mondo!
***WRESTLING JOKE OF THE DAY***
Q: What did Roman Reigns say to Captain Jack Sparrow?
A: I thought pirates had cannonballs. It turns out you’re just smuggling some BB pellets.
From March 26th (this Sunday) to April 4th (next Tuesday), I’m going to have a minimal presence on the internet due to a Mexican cruise I’m going on with my parents with a trip to Disneyland afterwards. It feels good to get out of the house every then and what better way to do it than by embarking on a Mexican cruise? Beautiful beaches, beautiful women, beautiful sunshine…beautiful everything! I might even bring home a pair of Mickey Mouse ears, hopefully ones that will fit over my gigantic head.
As I’ve said with past vacations, my online presence will be reduced to answering messages here and there and nothing more. That means for the next two WSS contests (including this one), I’m going to withdraw my participation. No Demon Axe chapters until I get back home in my own beddy-bye with my own kitty-pie. Heh, that rhymes. Maybe I’ll get pairs of mouse ears for my kitties and puppies. Can you imagine how silly Maggie would look with Mickey Mouse ears? She already looks like a Disney dog, so what more could we possibly do? Hehe!
Adios, amigos! Thanks for reading!
***POISON TONGUE TALES***
My paperback copy of Poison Tongue Tales has finally arrived in the mail today. Everything looks in tiptop condition, so I gave my approval for publication and it’ll be a few days before my book becomes available on Amazon. A lot of hard work went into editing the hell out of this collection of short stories. I know it’ll be well-received by those who decide to buy a copy. My biggest thanks goes out to Marie Krepps for her wise-assed critiques and awesome cover-designing skills. She did a lot for me over the past few years and it’s a debt I can never repay no matter how hard I try. Thank you so much, Babe-a-Licious Mondo!
***WRESTLING JOKE OF THE DAY***
Q: What did Roman Reigns say to Captain Jack Sparrow?
A: I thought pirates had cannonballs. It turns out you’re just smuggling some BB pellets.
Tribes
PLAY TITLE: Tribes
PLAYWRIGHT: Nina Raine
OPENING YEAR: 2010
MATURE CONTENT: Language
GENRE: Family Drama
GRADE: Mixed
Verbal sparring is the conversation of choice within a Jewish-British family that consists of rightwing nut job father Christopher, detective novelist mother Beth, schizophrenic college student Daniel, spitfire opera star Ruth, and the centerpiece of this play, the deaf translator Billy. Their already volatile situation is made worse when Billy finds romance with another deaf person named Sylvia, who teaches him sign language. Billy believes that Sylvia has been more supportive of him than his own family and the two move into an apartment together. The common theme of this play is finding acceptance in a world that seems to be closing in around the oppressed.
This play is divided into two acts and I can safely say that the second is better than the first. The first act serves as an introduction to all of the dysfunction within Billy’s argumentative family. While I understand that building up to the climax has to start somewhere, the first act felt unrealistic to me as far as fighting goes. It seemed like the characters were arguing for the sake of arguing. Instead of resolving their differences, the family comes off as total jerks that nobody wants to relate to. Sure, there are some funny lines in there, but humor is subjective and I only laughed three times during this whole play. My favorite line has to be when the father makes a joke about how having sex with an ugly woman is like “sticking your cock in a cement mixer”. Every other piece of dialogue comes off as childish and mean-spirited. I bet there are families like that out there, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to be around them.
The second act was a breath of fresh air compared to the first. Instead of mindless bickering that doesn’t feel organic, you get true emotional situations. Arbitrary anger is replaced with pain, heartbreak, and passion. You can feel Sylvia’s heart shattering into a million pieces when she talks about feeling alone in this world even among a group of other deaf people. When Billy throws his Santa hat in frustration, you’d better have some tissues in your pockets. When Daniel’s stammering habits come back to haunt him, you want to be part of his hug with Billy near the end. Even though they had a blandly angry script to work with in act one, the actors did a phenomenal job in carrying the drama through. Imagine what they can pull off when the emotions are believable and relatable on a deeper level.
Speaking of believability, Daniel’s schizophrenic quirks struck a chord within me. As many of my readers know, I’ve been a schizophrenic since 2002, maybe earlier. The struggle to shut up the voices, the feeling of despair, the voices interrupting during important conversations, the insulting language in which the voices speak, those were all things I could relate to when it came to Daniel’s character. By the time the play was over, I was rooting for him to get better. In act one, however, he acts like a major pain in the ass and in many cases a verbal bully, which is why it took so long for me to relate to him. But relate to him I did. I even had to remind myself that erratic behavior is a common symptom of schizophrenia. Lord knows I’ve done some crazy stuff during the early onset of my disease.
Somewhere in the scuffle of hateful dialogue, there are messages about accepting each other for who we are, being free-thinking individuals, and being supportive when it truly counts. You might have to wait a while for the more tender parts of the play to show themselves, but it’ll be worth the wait. Some of the banter might remind you of your own family, though hopefully not to that extreme. If you’re not overly sensitive when it comes to dysfunctional family matters, then I would advise you to buy a ticket to see this play. Patience is a virtue, which is true for living with crazy characters and watching this performance. I believe a mixed grade will do just fine.
PLAYWRIGHT: Nina Raine
OPENING YEAR: 2010
MATURE CONTENT: Language
GENRE: Family Drama
GRADE: Mixed
Verbal sparring is the conversation of choice within a Jewish-British family that consists of rightwing nut job father Christopher, detective novelist mother Beth, schizophrenic college student Daniel, spitfire opera star Ruth, and the centerpiece of this play, the deaf translator Billy. Their already volatile situation is made worse when Billy finds romance with another deaf person named Sylvia, who teaches him sign language. Billy believes that Sylvia has been more supportive of him than his own family and the two move into an apartment together. The common theme of this play is finding acceptance in a world that seems to be closing in around the oppressed.
This play is divided into two acts and I can safely say that the second is better than the first. The first act serves as an introduction to all of the dysfunction within Billy’s argumentative family. While I understand that building up to the climax has to start somewhere, the first act felt unrealistic to me as far as fighting goes. It seemed like the characters were arguing for the sake of arguing. Instead of resolving their differences, the family comes off as total jerks that nobody wants to relate to. Sure, there are some funny lines in there, but humor is subjective and I only laughed three times during this whole play. My favorite line has to be when the father makes a joke about how having sex with an ugly woman is like “sticking your cock in a cement mixer”. Every other piece of dialogue comes off as childish and mean-spirited. I bet there are families like that out there, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to be around them.
The second act was a breath of fresh air compared to the first. Instead of mindless bickering that doesn’t feel organic, you get true emotional situations. Arbitrary anger is replaced with pain, heartbreak, and passion. You can feel Sylvia’s heart shattering into a million pieces when she talks about feeling alone in this world even among a group of other deaf people. When Billy throws his Santa hat in frustration, you’d better have some tissues in your pockets. When Daniel’s stammering habits come back to haunt him, you want to be part of his hug with Billy near the end. Even though they had a blandly angry script to work with in act one, the actors did a phenomenal job in carrying the drama through. Imagine what they can pull off when the emotions are believable and relatable on a deeper level.
Speaking of believability, Daniel’s schizophrenic quirks struck a chord within me. As many of my readers know, I’ve been a schizophrenic since 2002, maybe earlier. The struggle to shut up the voices, the feeling of despair, the voices interrupting during important conversations, the insulting language in which the voices speak, those were all things I could relate to when it came to Daniel’s character. By the time the play was over, I was rooting for him to get better. In act one, however, he acts like a major pain in the ass and in many cases a verbal bully, which is why it took so long for me to relate to him. But relate to him I did. I even had to remind myself that erratic behavior is a common symptom of schizophrenia. Lord knows I’ve done some crazy stuff during the early onset of my disease.
Somewhere in the scuffle of hateful dialogue, there are messages about accepting each other for who we are, being free-thinking individuals, and being supportive when it truly counts. You might have to wait a while for the more tender parts of the play to show themselves, but it’ll be worth the wait. Some of the banter might remind you of your own family, though hopefully not to that extreme. If you’re not overly sensitive when it comes to dysfunctional family matters, then I would advise you to buy a ticket to see this play. Patience is a virtue, which is true for living with crazy characters and watching this performance. I believe a mixed grade will do just fine.
March 22, 2017
McDonald's Prostitute
VERSE 1
Which tastes worse: the blowjob or the burger?
Which is more sadistic: slavery or murder?
Which is more dangerous: the fries or the lies?
Which is more confusing: the whats or the whys?
Stretched so thin like lying on a torture table
Scraping up whatever small change you’re able
Put on the pounds and make orgasmic sounds
Nobody will help you in this selfish town
CHORUS
McDonald’s prostitute, what’re you fighting for?
An economy that doesn’t subsidize war?
A market that doesn’t overpower the rich?
They’ll be the first to tell you that life is a bitch!
VERSE 2
What ice cream do you want: vanilla or chocolate?
Where’s your money: in your purse or your pocket?
Where do you call home: the bridge or the streets?
What’s the ending to this story: victory or defeat?
I would never judge you for your desperation
I would never insult you or give you lacerations
It’s not your fault and you’re not in the wrong
Have my twenty dollar bill and the lyrics to this song
CHORUS
McDonald’s prostitute, what’re you fighting for?
An economy that doesn’t subsidize war?
A market that doesn’t overpower the rich?
They’ll be the first to tell you that life is a bitch!
VERSE 3
A triple bacon burger with onions and pickles
A man in black robes with a sick-looking sickle
The loneliness will kill you before the food does
A disgusting fucking joke is what this all was
Everybody wanted it to go wrong from the start
They vote with their balls and not with their hearts
Now they can’t even fill up their shopping carts
Except with their last possessions and metal parts
CHORUS X2
McDonald’s prostitute, what’re you fighting for?
An economy that doesn’t subsidize war?
A market that doesn’t overpower the rich?
They’ll be the first to tell you that life is a bitch!
Which tastes worse: the blowjob or the burger?
Which is more sadistic: slavery or murder?
Which is more dangerous: the fries or the lies?
Which is more confusing: the whats or the whys?
Stretched so thin like lying on a torture table
Scraping up whatever small change you’re able
Put on the pounds and make orgasmic sounds
Nobody will help you in this selfish town
CHORUS
McDonald’s prostitute, what’re you fighting for?
An economy that doesn’t subsidize war?
A market that doesn’t overpower the rich?
They’ll be the first to tell you that life is a bitch!
VERSE 2
What ice cream do you want: vanilla or chocolate?
Where’s your money: in your purse or your pocket?
Where do you call home: the bridge or the streets?
What’s the ending to this story: victory or defeat?
I would never judge you for your desperation
I would never insult you or give you lacerations
It’s not your fault and you’re not in the wrong
Have my twenty dollar bill and the lyrics to this song
CHORUS
McDonald’s prostitute, what’re you fighting for?
An economy that doesn’t subsidize war?
A market that doesn’t overpower the rich?
They’ll be the first to tell you that life is a bitch!
VERSE 3
A triple bacon burger with onions and pickles
A man in black robes with a sick-looking sickle
The loneliness will kill you before the food does
A disgusting fucking joke is what this all was
Everybody wanted it to go wrong from the start
They vote with their balls and not with their hearts
Now they can’t even fill up their shopping carts
Except with their last possessions and metal parts
CHORUS X2
McDonald’s prostitute, what’re you fighting for?
An economy that doesn’t subsidize war?
A market that doesn’t overpower the rich?
They’ll be the first to tell you that life is a bitch!
