Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 87
March 18, 2017
The Perks of Being a Zombie
VERSE 1
I once had wild dreams of being a creator
But everyone else was a heel commentator
“Fix computers, scoop ice cream into cones
Do it all for your wallet and future home”
But I resisted every obnoxious voice
The ones in my head gave me no choice
“Listen and conform to everything we say
If you don’t want bleed for the rest of the day”
CHORUS
“Move it! Move it! Get your fat ass in gear!
Let’s go! Let’s go! Before I kick you in the rear!
Faster! Faster! Listen to what’s in your ear!
The perks of being a zombie are always clear!”
VERSE 2
I packed up and went to the indoctrination center
The closest place to hell that I could ever enter
I wouldn’t know it from the numbness in my brain
When it comes to pain, it all feels the same
Psychotic behavior was disguised as laziness
Torment and anguish was disguised as craziness
I never felt so naked in all of my goddamn life
The suicidal tendencies always felt so right
CHORUS
“Move it! Move it! Get your fat ass in gear!
Let’s go! Let’s go! Before I kick you in the rear!
Faster! Faster! Listen to what’s in your ear!
The perks of being a zombie are always clear!”
VERSE 3
I had a Broken Universe before it became cool
My pillow was always soaked in undead drool
My dreams were grayer than the winter shadow
Doing my homework was always such a battle
One day in psychology class, I found the name
Of the force inside me that brought me shame
A condition that I thought was traumatic cinema
Name of my disease was paranoid schizophrenia
ALTERNATIVE CHORUS
I am the master! You are the slave!
Nobody tells me how to behave!
It took a whole decade, but my eyes are wide!
I don’t have to run, I don’t have to hide!
My nights are cozy, my dreams are sweeter!
I’m a positive force and a negative eater!
You call me crazy and I give my thanks!
I’m the captain of the ship, I’m pulling rank!
I once had wild dreams of being a creator
But everyone else was a heel commentator
“Fix computers, scoop ice cream into cones
Do it all for your wallet and future home”
But I resisted every obnoxious voice
The ones in my head gave me no choice
“Listen and conform to everything we say
If you don’t want bleed for the rest of the day”
CHORUS
“Move it! Move it! Get your fat ass in gear!
Let’s go! Let’s go! Before I kick you in the rear!
Faster! Faster! Listen to what’s in your ear!
The perks of being a zombie are always clear!”
VERSE 2
I packed up and went to the indoctrination center
The closest place to hell that I could ever enter
I wouldn’t know it from the numbness in my brain
When it comes to pain, it all feels the same
Psychotic behavior was disguised as laziness
Torment and anguish was disguised as craziness
I never felt so naked in all of my goddamn life
The suicidal tendencies always felt so right
CHORUS
“Move it! Move it! Get your fat ass in gear!
Let’s go! Let’s go! Before I kick you in the rear!
Faster! Faster! Listen to what’s in your ear!
The perks of being a zombie are always clear!”
VERSE 3
I had a Broken Universe before it became cool
My pillow was always soaked in undead drool
My dreams were grayer than the winter shadow
Doing my homework was always such a battle
One day in psychology class, I found the name
Of the force inside me that brought me shame
A condition that I thought was traumatic cinema
Name of my disease was paranoid schizophrenia
ALTERNATIVE CHORUS
I am the master! You are the slave!
Nobody tells me how to behave!
It took a whole decade, but my eyes are wide!
I don’t have to run, I don’t have to hide!
My nights are cozy, my dreams are sweeter!
I’m a positive force and a negative eater!
You call me crazy and I give my thanks!
I’m the captain of the ship, I’m pulling rank!
March 17, 2017
Demon Axe, Chapter 17
“It’s always darkest before the dawn.”
These gentle words brought a flood of light into Raven’s blacked out field of vision. She squinted so that her eyes could adjust, but they were still stinging from her battle with Roger Zee. Upon being reminded of that hideous name, she sat up with a quickness only to clutch her aching ribs and be laid back down again by powerful hands on her arms. Every part of her body felt like it was branded with a hot iron. Yet in this familiar man’s care, she remained relaxed.
Her burning eyes opened some more until the blurry shape before her straightened into focus. The long brown hair, the middle-aged face, the rock n’ roll T-shirt, they were all there. Raven couldn’t believe such gentle care came from a man whose occupation required fiery aggression. It was him alright. The man she had so many petty arguments with, yet couldn’t be without. Daniel Mercer smiled down on her with the face only a mother could love…a Mother of Dragons, that is.
“Daniel…we have to….we have to find my father…” whimpered Raven.
“I know, Raven. Trust me, I know. Shawn and I got here a little too late. I’m so sorry,” said Daniel.
With her clear vision, the elf princess gazed around the room to find she was lying on a police blanket in the back of a SWAT van. The dented shelter wasn’t pretty nor was the van mobile at all, but it was better than the battlefield of dead bodies waiting for them outside. Tears welled up in Raven’s eyes as she thought of her lost comrades.
Daniel wiped them away with the bottom of his shirt and said, “It’ll be okay. We’re going to find your father and that bastard Roger. But you need to rest for now. You were badly beaten when we found you.”
“How can I even think about resting when…?” cried Raven.
“Listen to me,” said Daniel as he held the elf’s hand in his own. “I know how much your father means to you. But if you go out and look for him in the condition you’re in, you won’t stand a chance. I know this, because I too had to stay in the hospital before I came here. That’s the reason why I was late.”
Raven’s face oozed with concern and sorrow when she asked, “Why were you in the hospital, Daniel? What did Roger do to you?”
The singer breathed a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a few more heavy breaths, he said with trepidation, “He tortured me. I formed a new band just as I said I would…and he took all of us to a black site…he…” Daniel rubbed the sogginess out of his eyes. “He killed all of them right in front of me…and he took me to a dark room…he fucking tortured me with my own music…”
The elf princess squeezed Daniel’s hand in sympathy while using her other hand to brush his long locks. “That’s awful…He’s a goddamn monster!”
“For a while, I didn’t think I could ever be interested in metal music again. I thought my dream was over. The very thing that got me through life was going to be taken away from me. And then…I, uh…the place I went to in order to stop the pain…was you, Raven. I thought about how lovely you were…how much you cared…how you saved me from my own nightmares…It’s the only thing that got me through it all. If it wasn’t for those images, I probably would have…killed myself,” sobbed Daniel.
Despite having a bruised and battered body, Raven found the strength to slowly sit up and give her friend a loving hug, which he returned. They stayed locked in each other’s embrace for the longest time. Long enough to finally ignore their own pain, both physical and emotional.
“There’s something I have to tell you, Daniel. It’s about why you were chosen to take on Roger,” confessed Raven.
When the embrace was gingerly broken, the singer said, “You don’t owe me an explanation. I know what I must do and why I should do it.”
“No, you don’t understand. It’s deeper than that, Daniel. Please, let me explain,” said Raven as she laid back down on the blanket. “My father has been around for many generations. He doesn’t have much longer to live. For a while we’ve been looking around scouting for a new king to rule over the elves. My father chose you, Daniel. He’s been watching you for a long time. He knows how passionate you can be. He knows where your morals lie. He believes in you.”
Daniel’s expression softened when he said, “But…I don’t know how to be a leader, Raven. I don’t know anything about being a politician. I led two heavy metal bands and all members of both bands are fucking dead. They’re dead because of me.”
“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” asked Raven. “What did I teach you when I showed you the EMDR technique at the arena? Besides, I’m not much of a leader either as you can tell from the dead bodies outside. But if we’re judging our leadership skills based on another asshole’s actions, then you are really the only option we have. How is this any different from the politics of your human world?”
“Gee, thanks, Raven,” said Daniel with a light chuckle. Raven giggled as well. “But if we can be serious for a moment, what do I have to offer the elves if I can’t even handle my own goddamn life?”
“You have something that Roger hates with all of his might. You have creativity. You have music. You have a soul. A good soul, at that. Elves are passionate about the arts as you can tell from the lovely shapes of our buildings…before they were destroyed of course. Elves especially love music. That microphone we gave you is imbued with the souls of lost musicians. Every time you scream into the mouthpiece, you’re channeling their energy into every word you speak. When you sang that line about darkness before dawn, you made me believe in myself again. That’s how powerful your words really are. That’s why you must be next in line for the elven throne.”
Daniel hung his head in contemplation while petting Raven’s arm. The weight of the elven world rested on his shoulders, but he was determined to carry it with a titan’s strength. He lifted his head up to give an answer and a tiny smile was etched on his face. “If I become king of the elves…does that make you my queen?”
Raven threw her head back and giggled lightly enough to not aggravate her injuries. She thought it was just a joke, but when the laughter ceased, she saw the passion in Daniel’s eyes that King Arthur Triscloud himself boasted about. That was the look of someone with a purpose. That was the look of a hero. He knew he couldn’t rule this kingdom alone. He also knew he couldn’t live this life alone. He’d done the latter for so long throughout this campaign.
“Oh, Daniel…” whispered Raven as the two of them leaned in for a passionate kiss. As they brushed lips together and wrestled tongues, every ounce of energy they held back before came rushing into this loving moment. They spent so long denying each other and bickering senselessly. Neither of them wanted to give into each other until this private moment together. They kissed deeply, hugged tightly, and brushed each other’s hair wildly.
They were jerked away from their sexy moment when the back door of the van flung open and Shawn Henry stood there wide-eyed and with healing herbs in hand. He awkwardly said, “I found the medical supplies from the castle….in case you’re interested.”
“Um…yes, uh…of course we’re interested, Shawn. Thank you,” stammered Daniel as he crawled off of Raven and snatched the leaves out of the detective’s hands. He turned back to the wounded elf and said, “These, uh…these will help you recover, and…”
“We’ve used those before, Daniel. I know how they work,” said Raven.
The Lord of the Pit shakily crawled back to Raven and began applying the healing leaves and medical acid. He tried to be as nonchalant as possible when he said to Shawn, “You can leave now. I’ve got it from here.”
“Try not to have too much fun in there,” said Shawn with a smart-ass grin as he shut the van door.
Daniel smiled himself and said, “Well, that right there is what I like to call reverse Viagra.”
“You humans and your boner pills,” giggled Raven before she clutched her ribs in pain. “Hurry up and put that stuff on me, I’m hurting like hell!”
“Yes, Princess, I mean, Queen Triscloud!”
These gentle words brought a flood of light into Raven’s blacked out field of vision. She squinted so that her eyes could adjust, but they were still stinging from her battle with Roger Zee. Upon being reminded of that hideous name, she sat up with a quickness only to clutch her aching ribs and be laid back down again by powerful hands on her arms. Every part of her body felt like it was branded with a hot iron. Yet in this familiar man’s care, she remained relaxed.
Her burning eyes opened some more until the blurry shape before her straightened into focus. The long brown hair, the middle-aged face, the rock n’ roll T-shirt, they were all there. Raven couldn’t believe such gentle care came from a man whose occupation required fiery aggression. It was him alright. The man she had so many petty arguments with, yet couldn’t be without. Daniel Mercer smiled down on her with the face only a mother could love…a Mother of Dragons, that is.
“Daniel…we have to….we have to find my father…” whimpered Raven.
“I know, Raven. Trust me, I know. Shawn and I got here a little too late. I’m so sorry,” said Daniel.
With her clear vision, the elf princess gazed around the room to find she was lying on a police blanket in the back of a SWAT van. The dented shelter wasn’t pretty nor was the van mobile at all, but it was better than the battlefield of dead bodies waiting for them outside. Tears welled up in Raven’s eyes as she thought of her lost comrades.
Daniel wiped them away with the bottom of his shirt and said, “It’ll be okay. We’re going to find your father and that bastard Roger. But you need to rest for now. You were badly beaten when we found you.”
“How can I even think about resting when…?” cried Raven.
“Listen to me,” said Daniel as he held the elf’s hand in his own. “I know how much your father means to you. But if you go out and look for him in the condition you’re in, you won’t stand a chance. I know this, because I too had to stay in the hospital before I came here. That’s the reason why I was late.”
Raven’s face oozed with concern and sorrow when she asked, “Why were you in the hospital, Daniel? What did Roger do to you?”
The singer breathed a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a few more heavy breaths, he said with trepidation, “He tortured me. I formed a new band just as I said I would…and he took all of us to a black site…he…” Daniel rubbed the sogginess out of his eyes. “He killed all of them right in front of me…and he took me to a dark room…he fucking tortured me with my own music…”
The elf princess squeezed Daniel’s hand in sympathy while using her other hand to brush his long locks. “That’s awful…He’s a goddamn monster!”
“For a while, I didn’t think I could ever be interested in metal music again. I thought my dream was over. The very thing that got me through life was going to be taken away from me. And then…I, uh…the place I went to in order to stop the pain…was you, Raven. I thought about how lovely you were…how much you cared…how you saved me from my own nightmares…It’s the only thing that got me through it all. If it wasn’t for those images, I probably would have…killed myself,” sobbed Daniel.
Despite having a bruised and battered body, Raven found the strength to slowly sit up and give her friend a loving hug, which he returned. They stayed locked in each other’s embrace for the longest time. Long enough to finally ignore their own pain, both physical and emotional.
“There’s something I have to tell you, Daniel. It’s about why you were chosen to take on Roger,” confessed Raven.
When the embrace was gingerly broken, the singer said, “You don’t owe me an explanation. I know what I must do and why I should do it.”
“No, you don’t understand. It’s deeper than that, Daniel. Please, let me explain,” said Raven as she laid back down on the blanket. “My father has been around for many generations. He doesn’t have much longer to live. For a while we’ve been looking around scouting for a new king to rule over the elves. My father chose you, Daniel. He’s been watching you for a long time. He knows how passionate you can be. He knows where your morals lie. He believes in you.”
Daniel’s expression softened when he said, “But…I don’t know how to be a leader, Raven. I don’t know anything about being a politician. I led two heavy metal bands and all members of both bands are fucking dead. They’re dead because of me.”
“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” asked Raven. “What did I teach you when I showed you the EMDR technique at the arena? Besides, I’m not much of a leader either as you can tell from the dead bodies outside. But if we’re judging our leadership skills based on another asshole’s actions, then you are really the only option we have. How is this any different from the politics of your human world?”
“Gee, thanks, Raven,” said Daniel with a light chuckle. Raven giggled as well. “But if we can be serious for a moment, what do I have to offer the elves if I can’t even handle my own goddamn life?”
“You have something that Roger hates with all of his might. You have creativity. You have music. You have a soul. A good soul, at that. Elves are passionate about the arts as you can tell from the lovely shapes of our buildings…before they were destroyed of course. Elves especially love music. That microphone we gave you is imbued with the souls of lost musicians. Every time you scream into the mouthpiece, you’re channeling their energy into every word you speak. When you sang that line about darkness before dawn, you made me believe in myself again. That’s how powerful your words really are. That’s why you must be next in line for the elven throne.”
Daniel hung his head in contemplation while petting Raven’s arm. The weight of the elven world rested on his shoulders, but he was determined to carry it with a titan’s strength. He lifted his head up to give an answer and a tiny smile was etched on his face. “If I become king of the elves…does that make you my queen?”
Raven threw her head back and giggled lightly enough to not aggravate her injuries. She thought it was just a joke, but when the laughter ceased, she saw the passion in Daniel’s eyes that King Arthur Triscloud himself boasted about. That was the look of someone with a purpose. That was the look of a hero. He knew he couldn’t rule this kingdom alone. He also knew he couldn’t live this life alone. He’d done the latter for so long throughout this campaign.
“Oh, Daniel…” whispered Raven as the two of them leaned in for a passionate kiss. As they brushed lips together and wrestled tongues, every ounce of energy they held back before came rushing into this loving moment. They spent so long denying each other and bickering senselessly. Neither of them wanted to give into each other until this private moment together. They kissed deeply, hugged tightly, and brushed each other’s hair wildly.
They were jerked away from their sexy moment when the back door of the van flung open and Shawn Henry stood there wide-eyed and with healing herbs in hand. He awkwardly said, “I found the medical supplies from the castle….in case you’re interested.”
“Um…yes, uh…of course we’re interested, Shawn. Thank you,” stammered Daniel as he crawled off of Raven and snatched the leaves out of the detective’s hands. He turned back to the wounded elf and said, “These, uh…these will help you recover, and…”
“We’ve used those before, Daniel. I know how they work,” said Raven.
The Lord of the Pit shakily crawled back to Raven and began applying the healing leaves and medical acid. He tried to be as nonchalant as possible when he said to Shawn, “You can leave now. I’ve got it from here.”
“Try not to have too much fun in there,” said Shawn with a smart-ass grin as he shut the van door.
Daniel smiled himself and said, “Well, that right there is what I like to call reverse Viagra.”
“You humans and your boner pills,” giggled Raven before she clutched her ribs in pain. “Hurry up and put that stuff on me, I’m hurting like hell!”
“Yes, Princess, I mean, Queen Triscloud!”
March 16, 2017
Raggyd
***RAGGYD***
What do you get when you combine minimal reading experience, a massive ego, and four fantasy characters who have no earthly business being together? The answer is Raggyd, a medieval fantasy novel idea I had in 2004 when I took a creative writing class at Olympic College. As horrible as it ended up being, it was also the launching pad for my poetry skills. Ergo, if it wasn’t for Raggyd in 2004, I wouldn’t have published Confessions of a Schizophrenic Savage in 2013 nor Necrograph in 2016. I’m halfway through another book of poetry called Prophecy, so that’s in my near future.
With an underdeveloped plot, Raggyd was little more than an excuse to use four characters I really had an affinity for. There was the pit fighting barbarian Graf Lunge, the gothic samurai Eron Putris, the acrobatic thief Baby, and the witch hunter zealot Futez Mysida. Somehow these four characters were going to come together to fight a super powerful enemy named…are you ready for this…Vine Wielders. That’s his name, folks. Vine fucking Wielders. Sounds threatening, doesn’t it?
The first chapter I wrote for Raggyd was an interaction between Baby and Futez. Futez wanted Baby to join his religious organization and Baby declined by making a smart-ass remark about how the only thing Futez plans on stealing is the altar boy’s virginity. Naturally, the witch hunter was less than pleased and sicked an entire squadron of ball and chain-wielding soldiers upon his would-be charge.
As much as the class enjoyed Baby’s dig about fucking altar boys, Raggyd was a critical flop among the students. They had all criticisms for me and no compliments. Other students had compliments for their stories, but I didn’t and that put a huge dent in my massive ego. What really set me off was when a fellow student named Patrick flat out said the story sucked. You know you have a hair trigger temper when the words “it sucked” causes you to blow a major gasket. Of course, I didn’t actually explode in the classroom, but I was boiling over on the inside. I needed some kind of revenge on Patrick in the worst way. Beating the piss out of him would land me in jail, so I needed something a little more…legal.
Around this time in my life, I was watching a lot of WWE (surprise, surprise). Since this was the autumn of 2004, John Cena was still over with the crowd during his white rapper gimmick. I’ll always tell people that hip-hop was the catalyst for my poetry career, but what a lot of people don’t know is that John Cena’s battle raps were the biggest source of inspiration for me. From those TV-14 insults, my revenge poem against Patrick was formulated. I would go on a lengthy diatribe about how I would impregnate Patrick’s mother, sodomize him, and give him up to the orcish horde (because he looked like Frodo Baggins). I would have read this out loud during creative writing class, but Patrick made a face turn and started being nicer to the class, so I pulled back at the last minute.
As far as Raggyd goes, just for the sake of spiting my critics, I wrote a 130-page movie script detailing the exploits of Graf Lunge and Baby. Had I continued this series, there would have been a script dedicated to Eron and Futez and there would have been another one after that dedicated to the final battle with Vine Wielders. For the time being, Graf Lunge’s story was about him getting kidnapped at an early age and forced to train as a pit fighter under drill instructor-style conditions. Baby’s story was about him being sick of his religious upbringing and joining the thieves’ guild, where his training was much nicer by comparison.
Raggyd had a lot of potential to be something big, but I eventually lost interest in continuing it due to the silence of my critics and a growing interest in other movie scripts. That means Graf Lunge, Baby, Futez Mysida, and Eron Putris are all orphaned characters. They’ll be used in other stories, no doubt, but what stories and when? I particularly grew fond of Graf Lunge because of his name (believe it or not) and his barbarian gimmick (naturally). And now that I think about it, Baby and Eron have different incarnations in other published stories. Over a decade later, Baby would become a child’s doll come to life in “Nail Bomb” and Eron would take the role of Floyd the sparring android from “The New Trainer”. Both of those stories will be published in Poison Tongue Tales. That leaves Graf and Futez without a home.
When I look back on the origins of Raggyd and the hurtful environment from which it came, a part of me wishes Olympic College wouldn’t have allowed that format to go on for any creative writing class. Apparently, this is a common occurrence for a lot of schools, not just OC. You read your story or poem out loud to the class and stay silent while the other students judge your piece. The other students can be as harsh or as nasty as they want with no consequence. It’s always been my understanding that school was supposed to be a place where students could grow and mature, not be taken down. But hey, I’ve watched Pink Floyd the Wall millions of times before, so I should have known better.
If I didn’t attend that class, I wouldn’t have written that battle rap about Patrick and therefore, I would have no poetry career. While I admit that my angry poetry got me in trouble more than once, I have no regrets about any of it, because I’d like to think I’ve improved since then. Maybe that’s why “Confessions of a Schizophrenic Savage” holds a four-star rating on Good Reads and Necrograph holds a five-star rating on the same website.
The lesson of this blog entry is to live your life with no regrets, because if you change just one part of your personal history, the rest of your life will be completely different. Without the negative experiences of your past, you wouldn’t appreciate the positive ones you have now. Raggyd will see the light of day again sometime in the near future. When that is, I have no idea. Until then, adios, amigos! Thanks for reading!
***JOKE OF THE DAY***
Q: What do you call someone who masturbates to Maid Marian while watching through her window?
A: Rubbin’ Hood.
What do you get when you combine minimal reading experience, a massive ego, and four fantasy characters who have no earthly business being together? The answer is Raggyd, a medieval fantasy novel idea I had in 2004 when I took a creative writing class at Olympic College. As horrible as it ended up being, it was also the launching pad for my poetry skills. Ergo, if it wasn’t for Raggyd in 2004, I wouldn’t have published Confessions of a Schizophrenic Savage in 2013 nor Necrograph in 2016. I’m halfway through another book of poetry called Prophecy, so that’s in my near future.
With an underdeveloped plot, Raggyd was little more than an excuse to use four characters I really had an affinity for. There was the pit fighting barbarian Graf Lunge, the gothic samurai Eron Putris, the acrobatic thief Baby, and the witch hunter zealot Futez Mysida. Somehow these four characters were going to come together to fight a super powerful enemy named…are you ready for this…Vine Wielders. That’s his name, folks. Vine fucking Wielders. Sounds threatening, doesn’t it?
The first chapter I wrote for Raggyd was an interaction between Baby and Futez. Futez wanted Baby to join his religious organization and Baby declined by making a smart-ass remark about how the only thing Futez plans on stealing is the altar boy’s virginity. Naturally, the witch hunter was less than pleased and sicked an entire squadron of ball and chain-wielding soldiers upon his would-be charge.
As much as the class enjoyed Baby’s dig about fucking altar boys, Raggyd was a critical flop among the students. They had all criticisms for me and no compliments. Other students had compliments for their stories, but I didn’t and that put a huge dent in my massive ego. What really set me off was when a fellow student named Patrick flat out said the story sucked. You know you have a hair trigger temper when the words “it sucked” causes you to blow a major gasket. Of course, I didn’t actually explode in the classroom, but I was boiling over on the inside. I needed some kind of revenge on Patrick in the worst way. Beating the piss out of him would land me in jail, so I needed something a little more…legal.
Around this time in my life, I was watching a lot of WWE (surprise, surprise). Since this was the autumn of 2004, John Cena was still over with the crowd during his white rapper gimmick. I’ll always tell people that hip-hop was the catalyst for my poetry career, but what a lot of people don’t know is that John Cena’s battle raps were the biggest source of inspiration for me. From those TV-14 insults, my revenge poem against Patrick was formulated. I would go on a lengthy diatribe about how I would impregnate Patrick’s mother, sodomize him, and give him up to the orcish horde (because he looked like Frodo Baggins). I would have read this out loud during creative writing class, but Patrick made a face turn and started being nicer to the class, so I pulled back at the last minute.
As far as Raggyd goes, just for the sake of spiting my critics, I wrote a 130-page movie script detailing the exploits of Graf Lunge and Baby. Had I continued this series, there would have been a script dedicated to Eron and Futez and there would have been another one after that dedicated to the final battle with Vine Wielders. For the time being, Graf Lunge’s story was about him getting kidnapped at an early age and forced to train as a pit fighter under drill instructor-style conditions. Baby’s story was about him being sick of his religious upbringing and joining the thieves’ guild, where his training was much nicer by comparison.
Raggyd had a lot of potential to be something big, but I eventually lost interest in continuing it due to the silence of my critics and a growing interest in other movie scripts. That means Graf Lunge, Baby, Futez Mysida, and Eron Putris are all orphaned characters. They’ll be used in other stories, no doubt, but what stories and when? I particularly grew fond of Graf Lunge because of his name (believe it or not) and his barbarian gimmick (naturally). And now that I think about it, Baby and Eron have different incarnations in other published stories. Over a decade later, Baby would become a child’s doll come to life in “Nail Bomb” and Eron would take the role of Floyd the sparring android from “The New Trainer”. Both of those stories will be published in Poison Tongue Tales. That leaves Graf and Futez without a home.
When I look back on the origins of Raggyd and the hurtful environment from which it came, a part of me wishes Olympic College wouldn’t have allowed that format to go on for any creative writing class. Apparently, this is a common occurrence for a lot of schools, not just OC. You read your story or poem out loud to the class and stay silent while the other students judge your piece. The other students can be as harsh or as nasty as they want with no consequence. It’s always been my understanding that school was supposed to be a place where students could grow and mature, not be taken down. But hey, I’ve watched Pink Floyd the Wall millions of times before, so I should have known better.
If I didn’t attend that class, I wouldn’t have written that battle rap about Patrick and therefore, I would have no poetry career. While I admit that my angry poetry got me in trouble more than once, I have no regrets about any of it, because I’d like to think I’ve improved since then. Maybe that’s why “Confessions of a Schizophrenic Savage” holds a four-star rating on Good Reads and Necrograph holds a five-star rating on the same website.
The lesson of this blog entry is to live your life with no regrets, because if you change just one part of your personal history, the rest of your life will be completely different. Without the negative experiences of your past, you wouldn’t appreciate the positive ones you have now. Raggyd will see the light of day again sometime in the near future. When that is, I have no idea. Until then, adios, amigos! Thanks for reading!
***JOKE OF THE DAY***
Q: What do you call someone who masturbates to Maid Marian while watching through her window?
A: Rubbin’ Hood.
March 15, 2017
The Media
VERSE 1
Caught on camera, a vicious beating
Made me throw up what I was eating
Made me blow a fuse just like dynamite
Your son’s heart beats booze and cyanide
Teach your child some real lessons
Not to use hate and fear as weapons
Not to blame others for his own undoing
Not to be surprised when parents are suing
CHORUS X2
It is not the media’s fault
That your son’s an ass and he got caught
VERSE 2
He laughs at suicide whenever it happens
Laughs at the mourners, calls them faggots
His ribs are broken from the many chuckles
His knees are shaking as they start to buckle
Let’s see him pick a fight with a true giant
Let’s see his lips quiver in the dead of silence
Let’s see his blood pressure hit the maximum
Piss a million gallons and call it going platinum
CHORUS X2
It is not the media’s fault
That your son’s an ass and he got caught
VERSE 3
In the end, he’s nothing but a coward
He thought he wielded the ultimate power
But all he got was a golden shower
His tight jockey shorts smell a little sour
All the bravado was for absolutely nothing
All the laughter never led to something
Now he’s got a spotlight burning so bright
He’s shitting himself from the stage fright
CHORUS
It is not the media’s fault
That your son’s an ass and he got caught
It is not the victim’s fault
That your son’s another brick in the wall
It is not the judge’s fault
That his dad has lost his balls
Blame yourself and no one else
Blame yourself for building your own hell
FINAL LINE X4
It is not the media’s fault!
Caught on camera, a vicious beating
Made me throw up what I was eating
Made me blow a fuse just like dynamite
Your son’s heart beats booze and cyanide
Teach your child some real lessons
Not to use hate and fear as weapons
Not to blame others for his own undoing
Not to be surprised when parents are suing
CHORUS X2
It is not the media’s fault
That your son’s an ass and he got caught
VERSE 2
He laughs at suicide whenever it happens
Laughs at the mourners, calls them faggots
His ribs are broken from the many chuckles
His knees are shaking as they start to buckle
Let’s see him pick a fight with a true giant
Let’s see his lips quiver in the dead of silence
Let’s see his blood pressure hit the maximum
Piss a million gallons and call it going platinum
CHORUS X2
It is not the media’s fault
That your son’s an ass and he got caught
VERSE 3
In the end, he’s nothing but a coward
He thought he wielded the ultimate power
But all he got was a golden shower
His tight jockey shorts smell a little sour
All the bravado was for absolutely nothing
All the laughter never led to something
Now he’s got a spotlight burning so bright
He’s shitting himself from the stage fright
CHORUS
It is not the media’s fault
That your son’s an ass and he got caught
It is not the victim’s fault
That your son’s another brick in the wall
It is not the judge’s fault
That his dad has lost his balls
Blame yourself and no one else
Blame yourself for building your own hell
FINAL LINE X4
It is not the media’s fault!
March 8, 2017
Demon Axe, Chapter 16
Any dumb fuck could make the excuse that the Paulson City Police were just doing what they were told for the sake of their families. The news anchors could sanitize their sins with Lysol until the end of time. But what about those in uniform who actually bought into Roger Zee’s twisted logic? Like a certain orange politician, Roger Zee’s actions and words gave permission to commit violence in the name of the “greater good”. The corrupt cops who felt empowered by this dangerous thinking were the ones driving tanks and hummers through the elven world.
Gigantic tanks crushing innocent street dwellers underneath their bladed wheels. Cannons blasting buildings until they crumbled to the ground. Hummers with machineguns mounted on them unloading a blizzard of bullets upon elves who tried to run and hide. After hundreds of years of the elves rebuilding their homeland, it once again resembled an apocalyptic scenario. Rubble scattered all over the pavement. Broken and twisted elf corpses strewn across the road with their blood running down the sewer drains. Screams and cries of those who were barely surviving pierced the ears, but not the hearts of their human rivals. Mothers huddling with their children behind piles of broken buildings.
The war machines were tromping their way across the wreckage and bloodied bodies with the intention of storming King Arthur Triscloud’s castle. The finest of elven architecture was ready to be violated with fiery cannonballs and armor-piercing bullets the size of crowbars. As more women and children gathered around the castle to shed their tears, their sorrows were met with laughter and mockery from the cops who were itching to settle the score between man and elf.
“This is not your land!” shouted a familiar female voice, putting an end to the hyena laughter. With rows upon rows of elven soldiers with swords marching behind her, Princess Raven Triscloud pointed her own blade at her world’s attackers while giving an oratory worthy of a certain Lord’s heavy metal performance.
With muscles twitching and raw anger in her voice, Raven shouted, “Whatever fake reminiscence Roger Zee is feeding you, it will be your downfall! Up until this moment, my elven race has never been a threat to human democracy! We just wanted to live peacefully and rebuild what your people have taken down with brute force! Anybody who says otherwise is dabbling in revisionist history! Your news anchors and your politicians have built the human empire on fear! You want something to be afraid of?! I’ll give it to you! Charge!”
The elven soldiers led by Raven rushed into battle with swords and shields raised while the human forces readied their machineguns and tank cannons. They unleashed a tidal wave of bullets across the elven warriors, but the indigenous race’s oversized shields deflected the ammunition off to the sides, where they bounced off rubble piles with audible pings. The elves stayed light on their feet as they dodged and weaved out of range of the cops’ high velocity cannons.
As soon as Raven and her soldiers bolted within range, the massive slaughter became a melee between swords and batons. Elves jammed elongated blades through their opponents’ black hearts and chopped off limbs, causing the human forces to bleed buckets all over the broken city streets. Likewise, cops rained down heavy clubs across the elves’ skulls until the fantasy race’s brains were splashed off the concrete.
Raven, being the most skilled fighter of her army, ran around to various human soldiers and slashed their throats, gutted their stomachs, and chopped off heads. She was often ganged up on by three, four, or five cops at a time, but for every baton strike, she rolled and flipped out of the way. While she was on the ground, she threw a circular slash and chopped off her opponents’ feet, causing them to scream like children and cuss like sailors as they bled profusely.
And then Raven noticed out of the corner of her eye that a tank cannon was aiming right for her. “Shit!” she yelled before cart-wheeling out of range. The cannon fired and blew concrete shrapnel all over her friends, making them easier targets for baton beatings over the head and across the ribs. At the threat of another cannon blast, Raven backed up into an alleyway to avoid more shrapnel. She needed time to rethink her strategy, but her friends were dying out there. “If only there was some way to disable those tanks,” she said to herself.
“I wouldn’t count on it if I was you,” said a haunting elf voice. Raven gasped and slowly turned around to face her new opponent. Out of the shadows came Roger Zee with his machete in hand and a shit-eating grin across his ugly face. “Haven’t you gotten tired of watching your loved ones die? Daniel Mercer certainly has. So much so that I doubt he’ll want to interfere in elf politics ever again,” mocked Roger.
“You bastard!” shouted Raven before engaging the terrorist in hand-to-hand combat. The two elves clanged and banged swords with enough volume to drown out the sounds of war going on in the background. They even managed to make dents in each other’s blades, though Raven’s were much deeper and nastier than Roger’s. The terrorist went for a slash to the throat only for Raven to duck underneath and bull rush her opponent against a brick wall.
Holding the blade to Roger’s neck, Raven angrily whispered, “You are a disgrace to your people, Roger. I’m going to enjoy taking your fucking head off!” She would have if a cannon blast didn’t take a chunk out of a nearby building and rock her off balance. Roger threw a palm strike to Raven’s gut and kicked her in the face, flipping her in the air and causing her to land on her chest. She spit out blood and nursed her numb face.
Roger arrogantly whistled as he picked up his machete and danced like a fruitcake to his fallen opponent. Raven slowly made it to her hands and knees, but Roger held the blade to the back of her neck and said, “Revisionist history my ass, Raven! The only traitor to the crown I see around here is your deadbeat father!”
The insult pumped adrenaline through Raven’s system as she grabbed Roger’s feet and pulled him to the ground, making him drop his weapon. Raven took this time to stagger to her feet while Roger nipped up like an athlete. From that point it was martial arts warfare. The female warrior threw punches and kicks around the head and ribs of her opponent, all of those attacks being blocked or dodged by Roger. The zealot grabbed one of Raven’s punches and squeezed on her wrist so tightly that she crumbled to her knees. He said, “That dig about your father? That wasn’t an alternative fact. It was a hard fact!”
Raven threw another punch, but Roger caught that one as well before throwing her overhead and slamming her on her back. From there the former Order of the Spider soldier dropped repeated elbows on her chest and ribs, causing her to cough up even more blood than before. She tried throwing her legs up to back him off, but she was so weak that it resembled drunken choreography.
Roger knelt down and held his blade to Raven’s throat, to which she said, “Go ahead! Finish me off! I’d rather die than live your dystopia!”
The terrorist chuckled, “As much as I’d love to finish you off right now, there’s a war going on around us in case you hadn’t noticed.” To prove his point, another chunk of rubble flew across the battlefield, dusting Raven and Roger with large pebbles. Roger stood up, grinned, and said, “Besides, you’re not the one that I came here for. Any minute now…”
“You scoundrel!” shouted an elderly male voice. Raven’s puffy vision was able to make out the features of her father as he dashed into battle and threw wild slashes at Roger. The terrorist dodged each slash with athletic grace before kneeing the king in the stomach and hoisting Arthur on his shoulder.
“Put him down!” demanded Raven as she coughed up more blood. Her rage fell on deaf ears as Roger retreated from the bloody battle going on around them. The Princess held out her hand in a weak attempt to save her father, but after a short while of seeing his pained face, Roger took him away into the violent morning.
Tears built up in Raven’s swelling eyes, but she had no outlet for her sorrow other than beating the ground with her aching fists. She tried getting up, but the pain surged through her bones and watered her down to a crawl across the concrete. She pulled with the last of her remaining strength and then closed her eyes in defeat. The human and elven worlds belonged to Roger Zee.
Her dreams, however, belonged only to her. As the sounds of battle were dying all around her, she envisioned Daniel Mercer with his magical microphone serenading a raucous crowd. He had his skeleton makeup on and everything. He even played with his former band mates: Vulture Man on guitars, Pig Man on bass, and G-Pac on drums.
Even though Daniel was screaming angry lyrics, he seemed happy and loved in a place like this. This was his natural habitat and Roger would never be able to take that away from him no matter how much land he ruled over. Raven would have smiled at this moment, but her mouth was bloody and it hurt to do so. “Find me, Daniel,” she whispered. “Find me again.”
Gigantic tanks crushing innocent street dwellers underneath their bladed wheels. Cannons blasting buildings until they crumbled to the ground. Hummers with machineguns mounted on them unloading a blizzard of bullets upon elves who tried to run and hide. After hundreds of years of the elves rebuilding their homeland, it once again resembled an apocalyptic scenario. Rubble scattered all over the pavement. Broken and twisted elf corpses strewn across the road with their blood running down the sewer drains. Screams and cries of those who were barely surviving pierced the ears, but not the hearts of their human rivals. Mothers huddling with their children behind piles of broken buildings.
The war machines were tromping their way across the wreckage and bloodied bodies with the intention of storming King Arthur Triscloud’s castle. The finest of elven architecture was ready to be violated with fiery cannonballs and armor-piercing bullets the size of crowbars. As more women and children gathered around the castle to shed their tears, their sorrows were met with laughter and mockery from the cops who were itching to settle the score between man and elf.
“This is not your land!” shouted a familiar female voice, putting an end to the hyena laughter. With rows upon rows of elven soldiers with swords marching behind her, Princess Raven Triscloud pointed her own blade at her world’s attackers while giving an oratory worthy of a certain Lord’s heavy metal performance.
With muscles twitching and raw anger in her voice, Raven shouted, “Whatever fake reminiscence Roger Zee is feeding you, it will be your downfall! Up until this moment, my elven race has never been a threat to human democracy! We just wanted to live peacefully and rebuild what your people have taken down with brute force! Anybody who says otherwise is dabbling in revisionist history! Your news anchors and your politicians have built the human empire on fear! You want something to be afraid of?! I’ll give it to you! Charge!”
The elven soldiers led by Raven rushed into battle with swords and shields raised while the human forces readied their machineguns and tank cannons. They unleashed a tidal wave of bullets across the elven warriors, but the indigenous race’s oversized shields deflected the ammunition off to the sides, where they bounced off rubble piles with audible pings. The elves stayed light on their feet as they dodged and weaved out of range of the cops’ high velocity cannons.
As soon as Raven and her soldiers bolted within range, the massive slaughter became a melee between swords and batons. Elves jammed elongated blades through their opponents’ black hearts and chopped off limbs, causing the human forces to bleed buckets all over the broken city streets. Likewise, cops rained down heavy clubs across the elves’ skulls until the fantasy race’s brains were splashed off the concrete.
Raven, being the most skilled fighter of her army, ran around to various human soldiers and slashed their throats, gutted their stomachs, and chopped off heads. She was often ganged up on by three, four, or five cops at a time, but for every baton strike, she rolled and flipped out of the way. While she was on the ground, she threw a circular slash and chopped off her opponents’ feet, causing them to scream like children and cuss like sailors as they bled profusely.
And then Raven noticed out of the corner of her eye that a tank cannon was aiming right for her. “Shit!” she yelled before cart-wheeling out of range. The cannon fired and blew concrete shrapnel all over her friends, making them easier targets for baton beatings over the head and across the ribs. At the threat of another cannon blast, Raven backed up into an alleyway to avoid more shrapnel. She needed time to rethink her strategy, but her friends were dying out there. “If only there was some way to disable those tanks,” she said to herself.
“I wouldn’t count on it if I was you,” said a haunting elf voice. Raven gasped and slowly turned around to face her new opponent. Out of the shadows came Roger Zee with his machete in hand and a shit-eating grin across his ugly face. “Haven’t you gotten tired of watching your loved ones die? Daniel Mercer certainly has. So much so that I doubt he’ll want to interfere in elf politics ever again,” mocked Roger.
“You bastard!” shouted Raven before engaging the terrorist in hand-to-hand combat. The two elves clanged and banged swords with enough volume to drown out the sounds of war going on in the background. They even managed to make dents in each other’s blades, though Raven’s were much deeper and nastier than Roger’s. The terrorist went for a slash to the throat only for Raven to duck underneath and bull rush her opponent against a brick wall.
Holding the blade to Roger’s neck, Raven angrily whispered, “You are a disgrace to your people, Roger. I’m going to enjoy taking your fucking head off!” She would have if a cannon blast didn’t take a chunk out of a nearby building and rock her off balance. Roger threw a palm strike to Raven’s gut and kicked her in the face, flipping her in the air and causing her to land on her chest. She spit out blood and nursed her numb face.
Roger arrogantly whistled as he picked up his machete and danced like a fruitcake to his fallen opponent. Raven slowly made it to her hands and knees, but Roger held the blade to the back of her neck and said, “Revisionist history my ass, Raven! The only traitor to the crown I see around here is your deadbeat father!”
The insult pumped adrenaline through Raven’s system as she grabbed Roger’s feet and pulled him to the ground, making him drop his weapon. Raven took this time to stagger to her feet while Roger nipped up like an athlete. From that point it was martial arts warfare. The female warrior threw punches and kicks around the head and ribs of her opponent, all of those attacks being blocked or dodged by Roger. The zealot grabbed one of Raven’s punches and squeezed on her wrist so tightly that she crumbled to her knees. He said, “That dig about your father? That wasn’t an alternative fact. It was a hard fact!”
Raven threw another punch, but Roger caught that one as well before throwing her overhead and slamming her on her back. From there the former Order of the Spider soldier dropped repeated elbows on her chest and ribs, causing her to cough up even more blood than before. She tried throwing her legs up to back him off, but she was so weak that it resembled drunken choreography.
Roger knelt down and held his blade to Raven’s throat, to which she said, “Go ahead! Finish me off! I’d rather die than live your dystopia!”
The terrorist chuckled, “As much as I’d love to finish you off right now, there’s a war going on around us in case you hadn’t noticed.” To prove his point, another chunk of rubble flew across the battlefield, dusting Raven and Roger with large pebbles. Roger stood up, grinned, and said, “Besides, you’re not the one that I came here for. Any minute now…”
“You scoundrel!” shouted an elderly male voice. Raven’s puffy vision was able to make out the features of her father as he dashed into battle and threw wild slashes at Roger. The terrorist dodged each slash with athletic grace before kneeing the king in the stomach and hoisting Arthur on his shoulder.
“Put him down!” demanded Raven as she coughed up more blood. Her rage fell on deaf ears as Roger retreated from the bloody battle going on around them. The Princess held out her hand in a weak attempt to save her father, but after a short while of seeing his pained face, Roger took him away into the violent morning.
Tears built up in Raven’s swelling eyes, but she had no outlet for her sorrow other than beating the ground with her aching fists. She tried getting up, but the pain surged through her bones and watered her down to a crawl across the concrete. She pulled with the last of her remaining strength and then closed her eyes in defeat. The human and elven worlds belonged to Roger Zee.
Her dreams, however, belonged only to her. As the sounds of battle were dying all around her, she envisioned Daniel Mercer with his magical microphone serenading a raucous crowd. He had his skeleton makeup on and everything. He even played with his former band mates: Vulture Man on guitars, Pig Man on bass, and G-Pac on drums.
Even though Daniel was screaming angry lyrics, he seemed happy and loved in a place like this. This was his natural habitat and Roger would never be able to take that away from him no matter how much land he ruled over. Raven would have smiled at this moment, but her mouth was bloody and it hurt to do so. “Find me, Daniel,” she whispered. “Find me again.”
Movie Reviews
***MOVIE REVIEWS***
For the past week, I’ve been editing the shit out of Poison Tongue Tales in preparation for publishing the damn thing on Amazon. Although I only have eleven short stories left on the task list, I never realized until now how long I’ve gone without doing any serious first draft writing. Sure, I wrote a heavy metal song called “Knives to Meet You”, but that’s not really enough since writing poetry is easier for me than a chapter of a novel or a short story. I missed the last WSS contest because I’ve been so busy with PTT (and trying to get out of a sleepy haze). The “One Job” experiment is proving to be a dud. I miss writing Demon Axe chapters and short stories.
Another thing I miss writing is reviews. It’s a long time in between reading sessions of “What Hides in the Darkness” by KL Cottrell. I also haven’t seen any movies lately, which is weird because I still have a $25 Regal Cinemas gift card from Christmas last year. I could just download a movie on my computer, but judging from how my WWE Network videos have either frozen or skipped, I’m not sure any other movie-watching source will be better. I used to have a Roku, but that too skipped and froze at inopportune times and now it’s in a landfill somewhere due to it frying out. I could use my brother’s Playstation 4, but that doesn’t really belong to me, so his TV watching and videogame playing (along with Reina’s) takes priority over mine.
If I can find a way to watch movies on a regular basis to fill my time between creative projects, then reviewing them will be a new outlet for me. I’ve already written a few movie reviews here and there, whether it’s Zootopia, Ben and Me, or St. Vincent just to name a few. But this is something I could do on a regular basis as a labor of love. Sure, it’s not going to advance my writing career, but then again, why does everything I do have to be about my profession? Besides, doing these reviews will keep my writing skills sharp, which is important considering my last chapter of Demon Axe was written two weeks ago with almost nothing in between.
I’ve already come up with a short list of movies I’d like to watch and review. If you want to add anything to this list, let me know and I’ll take it into consideration. Here’s what I have so far:
1. Copycat
2. Crossface (NOT RELEASED YET)
3. Cure For Wellness, A
4. Deadpool
5. Die Watching
6. Fighting with My Family (NOT RELEASED YET)
7. Flintstones X WWE: Stone Age Smackdown
8. Ghost in the Shell
9. Jetsons X WWE: Robo-Wrestlemania
10. Kickboxer: Vengeance
11. Lego Batman Movie, The
12. Logan
13. Manchester By the Sea
14. Power Rangers
15. Robin Hood (Disney)
16. Star Wars: Rogue One
17. Thinning, The
18. WWE 24: Seth Rollins: Redesign, Rebuild, Reclaim
Not the world’s longest list, but that’s only because I’ve spent so long not watching movies that I don’t know what else to add. Yes, I know how ironic that is considering I minored in theater arts at WWU. It’s even more ironic that I originally wanted to major in cinema, but WWU didn’t offer that degree, so I went with English (creative writing). It’s important to remember where you came from and I was a huge cinemaphile back in the day. I wouldn’t mind getting back into the groove if it means I get to write reviews and help these movies get publicity (whether good or bad).
These reviews are still going to follow the five-paragraph formula I use with books and WWE matches. The first paragraph will be a brief synopsis (without spoilers). The next three paragraphs will be aspects I liked or disliked about the medium. The final paragraph will be a summary of those three thoughts to tie it all together. I also still plan on using the same grading system, which is…
Extra Credit: a five star review of a movie which exceeded my expectations either by changing my worldview or making me relate to it on a deep emotional level. Examples include Pink Floyd the Wall, Pulp Fiction, and The Lego Movie.
Pass: a four star review of a movie which entertained me all the way through and met my expectations with no serious flaws. This is the most common grade I give since I usually expect that I’ll like what I watch.
Mixed: a three star review of a movie which was still entertaining despite some obvious flaws. The first movie I gave a mixed grade to was Dead Man Down, which had a bullying storyline where the kids never got any comeuppance.
Fail: a two star review for a movie that had too many glaring flaws, but I finished watching anyways. An example of a failing WWE match would be Nikki Bella vs. AJ Lee at Survivor Series 2014 for the Divas Championship, which lasted less than twenty seconds and had no real emotional investment to begin with.
Did Not Finish: a one star review of a movie that was so terrible that I stopped watching it. I tried watching an NXT match between Eva Marie and Carmella, but there were so many botches and awkward moments that it hurt my brain worse than a Tombstone Piledriver on thumb tacks.
I know this labor of love will love me back, especially since I’ve been away for so long and absence makes the heart grow fonder. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
(RE: The Faces of Death documentary series.)
DAD: What do you watch that shit for?!
ME: Because it’s cool!
JAMES: Because he’s a serial killer in training.
For the past week, I’ve been editing the shit out of Poison Tongue Tales in preparation for publishing the damn thing on Amazon. Although I only have eleven short stories left on the task list, I never realized until now how long I’ve gone without doing any serious first draft writing. Sure, I wrote a heavy metal song called “Knives to Meet You”, but that’s not really enough since writing poetry is easier for me than a chapter of a novel or a short story. I missed the last WSS contest because I’ve been so busy with PTT (and trying to get out of a sleepy haze). The “One Job” experiment is proving to be a dud. I miss writing Demon Axe chapters and short stories.
Another thing I miss writing is reviews. It’s a long time in between reading sessions of “What Hides in the Darkness” by KL Cottrell. I also haven’t seen any movies lately, which is weird because I still have a $25 Regal Cinemas gift card from Christmas last year. I could just download a movie on my computer, but judging from how my WWE Network videos have either frozen or skipped, I’m not sure any other movie-watching source will be better. I used to have a Roku, but that too skipped and froze at inopportune times and now it’s in a landfill somewhere due to it frying out. I could use my brother’s Playstation 4, but that doesn’t really belong to me, so his TV watching and videogame playing (along with Reina’s) takes priority over mine.
If I can find a way to watch movies on a regular basis to fill my time between creative projects, then reviewing them will be a new outlet for me. I’ve already written a few movie reviews here and there, whether it’s Zootopia, Ben and Me, or St. Vincent just to name a few. But this is something I could do on a regular basis as a labor of love. Sure, it’s not going to advance my writing career, but then again, why does everything I do have to be about my profession? Besides, doing these reviews will keep my writing skills sharp, which is important considering my last chapter of Demon Axe was written two weeks ago with almost nothing in between.
I’ve already come up with a short list of movies I’d like to watch and review. If you want to add anything to this list, let me know and I’ll take it into consideration. Here’s what I have so far:
1. Copycat
2. Crossface (NOT RELEASED YET)
3. Cure For Wellness, A
4. Deadpool
5. Die Watching
6. Fighting with My Family (NOT RELEASED YET)
7. Flintstones X WWE: Stone Age Smackdown
8. Ghost in the Shell
9. Jetsons X WWE: Robo-Wrestlemania
10. Kickboxer: Vengeance
11. Lego Batman Movie, The
12. Logan
13. Manchester By the Sea
14. Power Rangers
15. Robin Hood (Disney)
16. Star Wars: Rogue One
17. Thinning, The
18. WWE 24: Seth Rollins: Redesign, Rebuild, Reclaim
Not the world’s longest list, but that’s only because I’ve spent so long not watching movies that I don’t know what else to add. Yes, I know how ironic that is considering I minored in theater arts at WWU. It’s even more ironic that I originally wanted to major in cinema, but WWU didn’t offer that degree, so I went with English (creative writing). It’s important to remember where you came from and I was a huge cinemaphile back in the day. I wouldn’t mind getting back into the groove if it means I get to write reviews and help these movies get publicity (whether good or bad).
These reviews are still going to follow the five-paragraph formula I use with books and WWE matches. The first paragraph will be a brief synopsis (without spoilers). The next three paragraphs will be aspects I liked or disliked about the medium. The final paragraph will be a summary of those three thoughts to tie it all together. I also still plan on using the same grading system, which is…
Extra Credit: a five star review of a movie which exceeded my expectations either by changing my worldview or making me relate to it on a deep emotional level. Examples include Pink Floyd the Wall, Pulp Fiction, and The Lego Movie.
Pass: a four star review of a movie which entertained me all the way through and met my expectations with no serious flaws. This is the most common grade I give since I usually expect that I’ll like what I watch.
Mixed: a three star review of a movie which was still entertaining despite some obvious flaws. The first movie I gave a mixed grade to was Dead Man Down, which had a bullying storyline where the kids never got any comeuppance.
Fail: a two star review for a movie that had too many glaring flaws, but I finished watching anyways. An example of a failing WWE match would be Nikki Bella vs. AJ Lee at Survivor Series 2014 for the Divas Championship, which lasted less than twenty seconds and had no real emotional investment to begin with.
Did Not Finish: a one star review of a movie that was so terrible that I stopped watching it. I tried watching an NXT match between Eva Marie and Carmella, but there were so many botches and awkward moments that it hurt my brain worse than a Tombstone Piledriver on thumb tacks.
I know this labor of love will love me back, especially since I’ve been away for so long and absence makes the heart grow fonder. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
(RE: The Faces of Death documentary series.)
DAD: What do you watch that shit for?!
ME: Because it’s cool!
JAMES: Because he’s a serial killer in training.
March 5, 2017
Knives to Meet You
VERSE 1
You look so cute when you’re on the floor
Bloodied and broken, a victim of gore
There’s only one way to end our little war
Slash and stab your ass a little bit more
CHORUS
Knives to meet you! X3
Knives!
VERSE 2
My blade reminds me of an Otter Pop
Licking it clean, never missing a drop
How can something so goddamn bad
Taste so good it drives me bat shit mad
You’re damn right I’m sick and I love it
Take the edge of my knife and stuff it
Right into your most delicate places
If these are your holes, I’ve got the aces
CHORUS
Knives to meet you! X3
Knives!
VERSE 3
A serial killer and a blood spiller
Intoxicates me like a bottle of Miller
Gets me high like a needle full of drugs
Gets me horny when you’re covered in bugs
This is my idea of black comedy
This is my idea of peace and harmony
The silence of the lambs is new age music
Goddamn, it feels so good to just lose it
EXTENDED CHORUS
Knives to meet you!
Fight and defeat you!
Slash and beat you!
Carve and eat you!
Until we meet again!
In the world of death!
Knives to know you!
Knives to own you!
FINAL VERSE
Don’t worry, my love, it’s all a punch line
Drink in the humor like a bottle of wine
Put your feet up and enjoy the show
It’s all you can do in a hellfire glow
You look so cute when you’re on the floor
Bloodied and broken, a victim of gore
There’s only one way to end our little war
Slash and stab your ass a little bit more
CHORUS
Knives to meet you! X3
Knives!
VERSE 2
My blade reminds me of an Otter Pop
Licking it clean, never missing a drop
How can something so goddamn bad
Taste so good it drives me bat shit mad
You’re damn right I’m sick and I love it
Take the edge of my knife and stuff it
Right into your most delicate places
If these are your holes, I’ve got the aces
CHORUS
Knives to meet you! X3
Knives!
VERSE 3
A serial killer and a blood spiller
Intoxicates me like a bottle of Miller
Gets me high like a needle full of drugs
Gets me horny when you’re covered in bugs
This is my idea of black comedy
This is my idea of peace and harmony
The silence of the lambs is new age music
Goddamn, it feels so good to just lose it
EXTENDED CHORUS
Knives to meet you!
Fight and defeat you!
Slash and beat you!
Carve and eat you!
Until we meet again!
In the world of death!
Knives to know you!
Knives to own you!
FINAL VERSE
Don’t worry, my love, it’s all a punch line
Drink in the humor like a bottle of wine
Put your feet up and enjoy the show
It’s all you can do in a hellfire glow
February 28, 2017
One Job
***ONE JOB***
I’m pretty sure you all have seen those “You had one job” memes floating around during your internet adventures. They normally end with, “And you failed” or “And you nailed it”. What I’m getting ready to talk about is something I believe will fit the criteria of the latter. Before writing this journal, my day has been just another “lazy day”. No creative work has been done, the plans to go to the Y have been cancelled, and the only productive thing I did in this 24-hour span was wash and dry my laundry. I could have just as easily spent some time under my oxygen mask and recovered whatever energy I lost that day, but no. There’s something deeper going on here.
I was beginning to wonder if I had too many tasks on my plate. Sure, I now have four major projects going on at the same time, but as long as my focus is divided evenly among them, I feel overwhelmed rather than in control. It’s the reason why I turned down an opportunity to review Andy Peloquin’s upcoming book, which is the third installment of The Last Bucelarii series. I felt bad about saying no to him, considering what an awesome writer he is and all he’s done for me and my brand over the years. He assured me that everything was still cool between us, so that makes me feel slightly better.
I’m starting to wonder if I should focus on these projects one at a time instead of all at once. And when I say focus on them, I mean finish them entirely before moving onto the next project. With this kind of sharp attention, it means I’ll have to miss a few weeks at the WSS because I won’t be working on Demon Axe those days. Everything else will have to take a backseat to the current project, but that’s what it’s been like even before I made this “One Job” decision. I kept worrying about what needs to take priority and if I work on one thing at a time instead of jumping between projects, I can finally get some shit done.
Earlier tonight, my always awesome and insanely beautiful beta-reader Marie Krepps has finished critiquing the last of my Poison Tongue Tales stories, which means it’s now my turn to make those suggested changes and polish it into a publishable book. But at the same time, I also have three other projects which need attention: writing Demon Axe, reading “What Hides in the Darkness” by KL Cottrell, and beta-reading “Benevolent Slayers” by Marie Krepps, which comes out in late May. I asked Marie if it was okay to put off beta-reading for her until I got everything sorted out and she said yes. In her infinite sweetness, she also told me not to push myself too hard when editing the hell out of those Poison Tongue Tales stories. I want to hug her right now!
Editing Poison Tongue Tales is so easy, a caveman can do it. It’s a matter of getting through all of those stories since I have so many of them. As far as Demon Axe goes, my most recent chapter is fifteen and there are usually twenty of them, give or take, in any novel I write. Finishing Demon Axe is also going to be easy as pie, but Poison Tongue Tales comes first since it’s closer to being a published book and Demon Axe is only a rough draft. That just leaves me with Benevolent Slayers and What Hides in the Darkness. Marie has always shown patience with me and I’m eternally grateful for that. As far as KL goes, don’t worry, babe, because I haven’t forgotten about you. In fact, I never forget about any of my creative commitments. It’ll be worth the wait!
It’s time to get into business mode, my friends. Four major projects and it all starts with Poison Tongue Tales, the easiest, yet longest assignment I have. Marie has a wonderful habit of making editing easy for all of her clients. That reminds me, I should ask her about her cover-making services since PTT is close to being published into a book. The question becomes, what will I want my cover to look like? I don’t know the answer yet, but it’ll probably involve a poisonous creature tongue. It is, after all, called Poison Tongue Tales.
Tomorrow morning, it’s game time. If I have to go to the Y to exercise that day and then take a nap afterwards, I’ll still have the energy to push through. If I’m exhausted that day, I’ll spend some time with the oxygen mask until I’m ready to go. I’ll heed Marie’s advice and be easy on myself while at the same time following my own creed of being a hardworking author. It’s been a whole year since I’ve published a book and that was my second poetry book, which is called Necrograph. In just a few short days, we’ll go from death writing to toximancy. Let’s get busy!
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“Well, I’m the king of Boggle! There is none higher! I get eleven points off the word quagmire!”
-King Adrock from The Beastie Boys rapping “Putting Shame in Your Game”-
***POST-SCRIPT***
Funny story about that. It wasn’t Boggle, but while playing Scrabble, I once got 40 points from the word bitch and 70 points from the word goddamn. I won both of those games fair and square. I knew my English degree would be good for something one day.
I’m pretty sure you all have seen those “You had one job” memes floating around during your internet adventures. They normally end with, “And you failed” or “And you nailed it”. What I’m getting ready to talk about is something I believe will fit the criteria of the latter. Before writing this journal, my day has been just another “lazy day”. No creative work has been done, the plans to go to the Y have been cancelled, and the only productive thing I did in this 24-hour span was wash and dry my laundry. I could have just as easily spent some time under my oxygen mask and recovered whatever energy I lost that day, but no. There’s something deeper going on here.
I was beginning to wonder if I had too many tasks on my plate. Sure, I now have four major projects going on at the same time, but as long as my focus is divided evenly among them, I feel overwhelmed rather than in control. It’s the reason why I turned down an opportunity to review Andy Peloquin’s upcoming book, which is the third installment of The Last Bucelarii series. I felt bad about saying no to him, considering what an awesome writer he is and all he’s done for me and my brand over the years. He assured me that everything was still cool between us, so that makes me feel slightly better.
I’m starting to wonder if I should focus on these projects one at a time instead of all at once. And when I say focus on them, I mean finish them entirely before moving onto the next project. With this kind of sharp attention, it means I’ll have to miss a few weeks at the WSS because I won’t be working on Demon Axe those days. Everything else will have to take a backseat to the current project, but that’s what it’s been like even before I made this “One Job” decision. I kept worrying about what needs to take priority and if I work on one thing at a time instead of jumping between projects, I can finally get some shit done.
Earlier tonight, my always awesome and insanely beautiful beta-reader Marie Krepps has finished critiquing the last of my Poison Tongue Tales stories, which means it’s now my turn to make those suggested changes and polish it into a publishable book. But at the same time, I also have three other projects which need attention: writing Demon Axe, reading “What Hides in the Darkness” by KL Cottrell, and beta-reading “Benevolent Slayers” by Marie Krepps, which comes out in late May. I asked Marie if it was okay to put off beta-reading for her until I got everything sorted out and she said yes. In her infinite sweetness, she also told me not to push myself too hard when editing the hell out of those Poison Tongue Tales stories. I want to hug her right now!
Editing Poison Tongue Tales is so easy, a caveman can do it. It’s a matter of getting through all of those stories since I have so many of them. As far as Demon Axe goes, my most recent chapter is fifteen and there are usually twenty of them, give or take, in any novel I write. Finishing Demon Axe is also going to be easy as pie, but Poison Tongue Tales comes first since it’s closer to being a published book and Demon Axe is only a rough draft. That just leaves me with Benevolent Slayers and What Hides in the Darkness. Marie has always shown patience with me and I’m eternally grateful for that. As far as KL goes, don’t worry, babe, because I haven’t forgotten about you. In fact, I never forget about any of my creative commitments. It’ll be worth the wait!
It’s time to get into business mode, my friends. Four major projects and it all starts with Poison Tongue Tales, the easiest, yet longest assignment I have. Marie has a wonderful habit of making editing easy for all of her clients. That reminds me, I should ask her about her cover-making services since PTT is close to being published into a book. The question becomes, what will I want my cover to look like? I don’t know the answer yet, but it’ll probably involve a poisonous creature tongue. It is, after all, called Poison Tongue Tales.
Tomorrow morning, it’s game time. If I have to go to the Y to exercise that day and then take a nap afterwards, I’ll still have the energy to push through. If I’m exhausted that day, I’ll spend some time with the oxygen mask until I’m ready to go. I’ll heed Marie’s advice and be easy on myself while at the same time following my own creed of being a hardworking author. It’s been a whole year since I’ve published a book and that was my second poetry book, which is called Necrograph. In just a few short days, we’ll go from death writing to toximancy. Let’s get busy!
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“Well, I’m the king of Boggle! There is none higher! I get eleven points off the word quagmire!”
-King Adrock from The Beastie Boys rapping “Putting Shame in Your Game”-
***POST-SCRIPT***
Funny story about that. It wasn’t Boggle, but while playing Scrabble, I once got 40 points from the word bitch and 70 points from the word goddamn. I won both of those games fair and square. I knew my English degree would be good for something one day.
February 25, 2017
Upcoming Concerts
***UPCOMING CONCERTS***
I had second thoughts about posting this blog entry because I didn’t want it to seem like I was arrogantly bragging. The only reason I’m posting it is because another week has gone by and I’m out of topics to discuss. So I figured, why not tell you all about upcoming concerts I’m attending? Heavy metal and rock music in general has always been a source of creative fuel for me. My current WIP novel Demon Axe uses such grinding music as its central theme. Consider these concerts to be further research (and in some cases personal therapy).
The first concert I plan on attending is not musical at all. It’s Garrison Keillor doing monologues. And before you ask, no, I wasn’t thinking of him when I chose my penname Garrison Kelly. Yes, I know the two names sound similar, but it’s just a coincidence. Besides, my first name really is Garrison, so…yeah. I’ve been a fan of Mr. Keillor since listening to Christmas-themed tapes of his in the late 90’s. His sound effects rendition of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” was very inspiring to my Lego adventures for some reason. I’ve always associated the horn noises with Tony Twister (Time Twisters) and bird squawking with pirate parrots. Now that I’m all grown up and we’re in a fierce political climate, we need Mr. Keillor now more than ever.
On June 24th at the Tacoma Dome, Roger Waters is putting on a show with both new material and old songs. He’s putting out a solo album this year called “Is This What We Really Want?” and I can’t wait to snatch it up. Roger was a huge inspiration to me during his time with Pink Floyd. He was always standing up for the underdogs of society, which included students in mean-spirited schools (“we don’t need no education”). He has the wisdom of a sage and he knows it.
Speaking of Pink Floyd-related concerts, on July 1st in Seattle, a tribute band called Brit Floyd is going to play at the Paramount Theater. I like the idea of tribute bands because the real thing isn’t going to be around forever. If it’s already gone, where are we to get our fix? Brit Floyd, that’s who. I’ve seen The Pink Floyd Experience back in 2014 in Bremerton. Awkward date aside, it lived up to the hype, so I expect Brit Floyd to do the same.
On August 1st at the always lovely White River Amphitheater, Green Day is playing a concert with Catfish and the Bottlemen as the opening act. I have no idea who Catfish and the Bottlemen are, but this is a good chance for them to earn my respect. This will be the third time in my life I’ve seen a Green Day show. They always have an audience member come onstage and play instruments with them, to which I’m always nervous that the crowd member will fuck up and make things awkward. Nevertheless, I’m excited to see them for the third time.
And finally, later in August, Incubus is also playing at the White River Amphitheater, but with Jimmy Eat World as their opening act. Like Green Day, this will be my third time at an Incubus show. When last I saw them, they opened for Linkin Park at the Tacoma Dome in 2012, where my brother James and I reunited with a childhood friend named Sean. I know Incubus will be just as awesome in 2017.
In addition to these concerts, there was another one I was considering going to, but opted out of it. Metallica (along with Avenged Sevenfold and Gojira) is going to play at Century Link Field in Seattle in August. This is a metal head’s wet dream come true. And then I saw the ticket prices and considered my parents’ recovery time between Green Day and Incubus (since they’ll be the ones driving). As much as I’d love to worship at the altar of James Hetfield, I just can’t do it this year. But even so, that’s still five concerts I’m attending this year and I’m grateful for all of them.
That’s what you really have to remember as you have these wonderful life experiences: be grateful for all of them. The more grateful you are, the more you attract things to be grateful for. It’s not just a bunch of new age mumbo-jumbo; it’s the truth. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***BENEVOLENT SLAYERS***
Marie Krepps is at it again with her twisted creativity. Since she’s been one stream of never-ending awsomeness when it comes to beta-reading Poison Tongue Tales, I’m going to be the same thing for her when it comes to beta-reading Benevolent Slayers, a fantasy novel she kept on the shelf for a whole decade before deciding to dust it off and try again. She’s quite the prolific author and I’m jelly of her longevity. I’m also peanut butter. Hehe!
***POISON TONGUE TALES***
And now that we’re on the topic of beta-reading and editing, if you follow me on Deviant Art, you would have noticed three short stories in your inbox. Those are all Poison Tongue Tales entries and there will be three more tomorrow, three more the next day, and three more after that. In the case of tomorrow, you can look forward to polished versions of “Demon Hunter”, “Descent”, and “Deus Ex Machina” (holy shit, that’s a lot of D’s!). I’ve put Poison Tongue Tales off for far too long and it’s only fair that I keep up my end of the bargain for Marie-Pie. When I eventually publish this sci-fi, fantasy, and horror collection, it will be my fifth book overall (if you don’t count the three now inactive books on my Good Reads page). Wish me luck!
***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 16***
It has come to my attention that there aren’t a whole lot of fast-paced action sequences in this novel. That makes me sad. So to make up for that, chapter sixteen is going to involve a battle between the elf kingdom and the corrupt Paulson City police, which is of course led by the always spiteful Roger Zee. Keeping track of this many warriors is always a challenge for me, but it’s one I accept. There’s also going to be a special focus on Raven and Arthur Triscloud vs. Roger Zee. It’s clearly not a fair fight; the Triscloud family needs more soldiers.
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
Speaking of ass-kicking sons of bitches, Scott Percival is next on the chopping block. He was the main hero of the short story “Shield Me”, where he had to protect his prostitute girlfriend from a vicious madame named Carla Madder. The story itself is more than just a bloody battle; it’s a question of forgiveness. Can Scott stay by his girlfriend after knowing what she did for a living while he was off at war? The simple answer would be yes considering the story’s economy, but things aren’t always as simple as they seem.
And since Scott Percival is modeled after WWE wrestler Roman Reigns:
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“All you dudes out there who’re saying I can’t wrestle, calm down, relax, take a sip of your beers, and shut your mouths.”
-Roman Reigns to an abusive WWE audience-
I had second thoughts about posting this blog entry because I didn’t want it to seem like I was arrogantly bragging. The only reason I’m posting it is because another week has gone by and I’m out of topics to discuss. So I figured, why not tell you all about upcoming concerts I’m attending? Heavy metal and rock music in general has always been a source of creative fuel for me. My current WIP novel Demon Axe uses such grinding music as its central theme. Consider these concerts to be further research (and in some cases personal therapy).
The first concert I plan on attending is not musical at all. It’s Garrison Keillor doing monologues. And before you ask, no, I wasn’t thinking of him when I chose my penname Garrison Kelly. Yes, I know the two names sound similar, but it’s just a coincidence. Besides, my first name really is Garrison, so…yeah. I’ve been a fan of Mr. Keillor since listening to Christmas-themed tapes of his in the late 90’s. His sound effects rendition of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” was very inspiring to my Lego adventures for some reason. I’ve always associated the horn noises with Tony Twister (Time Twisters) and bird squawking with pirate parrots. Now that I’m all grown up and we’re in a fierce political climate, we need Mr. Keillor now more than ever.
On June 24th at the Tacoma Dome, Roger Waters is putting on a show with both new material and old songs. He’s putting out a solo album this year called “Is This What We Really Want?” and I can’t wait to snatch it up. Roger was a huge inspiration to me during his time with Pink Floyd. He was always standing up for the underdogs of society, which included students in mean-spirited schools (“we don’t need no education”). He has the wisdom of a sage and he knows it.
Speaking of Pink Floyd-related concerts, on July 1st in Seattle, a tribute band called Brit Floyd is going to play at the Paramount Theater. I like the idea of tribute bands because the real thing isn’t going to be around forever. If it’s already gone, where are we to get our fix? Brit Floyd, that’s who. I’ve seen The Pink Floyd Experience back in 2014 in Bremerton. Awkward date aside, it lived up to the hype, so I expect Brit Floyd to do the same.
On August 1st at the always lovely White River Amphitheater, Green Day is playing a concert with Catfish and the Bottlemen as the opening act. I have no idea who Catfish and the Bottlemen are, but this is a good chance for them to earn my respect. This will be the third time in my life I’ve seen a Green Day show. They always have an audience member come onstage and play instruments with them, to which I’m always nervous that the crowd member will fuck up and make things awkward. Nevertheless, I’m excited to see them for the third time.
And finally, later in August, Incubus is also playing at the White River Amphitheater, but with Jimmy Eat World as their opening act. Like Green Day, this will be my third time at an Incubus show. When last I saw them, they opened for Linkin Park at the Tacoma Dome in 2012, where my brother James and I reunited with a childhood friend named Sean. I know Incubus will be just as awesome in 2017.
In addition to these concerts, there was another one I was considering going to, but opted out of it. Metallica (along with Avenged Sevenfold and Gojira) is going to play at Century Link Field in Seattle in August. This is a metal head’s wet dream come true. And then I saw the ticket prices and considered my parents’ recovery time between Green Day and Incubus (since they’ll be the ones driving). As much as I’d love to worship at the altar of James Hetfield, I just can’t do it this year. But even so, that’s still five concerts I’m attending this year and I’m grateful for all of them.
That’s what you really have to remember as you have these wonderful life experiences: be grateful for all of them. The more grateful you are, the more you attract things to be grateful for. It’s not just a bunch of new age mumbo-jumbo; it’s the truth. We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***BENEVOLENT SLAYERS***
Marie Krepps is at it again with her twisted creativity. Since she’s been one stream of never-ending awsomeness when it comes to beta-reading Poison Tongue Tales, I’m going to be the same thing for her when it comes to beta-reading Benevolent Slayers, a fantasy novel she kept on the shelf for a whole decade before deciding to dust it off and try again. She’s quite the prolific author and I’m jelly of her longevity. I’m also peanut butter. Hehe!
***POISON TONGUE TALES***
And now that we’re on the topic of beta-reading and editing, if you follow me on Deviant Art, you would have noticed three short stories in your inbox. Those are all Poison Tongue Tales entries and there will be three more tomorrow, three more the next day, and three more after that. In the case of tomorrow, you can look forward to polished versions of “Demon Hunter”, “Descent”, and “Deus Ex Machina” (holy shit, that’s a lot of D’s!). I’ve put Poison Tongue Tales off for far too long and it’s only fair that I keep up my end of the bargain for Marie-Pie. When I eventually publish this sci-fi, fantasy, and horror collection, it will be my fifth book overall (if you don’t count the three now inactive books on my Good Reads page). Wish me luck!
***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 16***
It has come to my attention that there aren’t a whole lot of fast-paced action sequences in this novel. That makes me sad. So to make up for that, chapter sixteen is going to involve a battle between the elf kingdom and the corrupt Paulson City police, which is of course led by the always spiteful Roger Zee. Keeping track of this many warriors is always a challenge for me, but it’s one I accept. There’s also going to be a special focus on Raven and Arthur Triscloud vs. Roger Zee. It’s clearly not a fair fight; the Triscloud family needs more soldiers.
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
Speaking of ass-kicking sons of bitches, Scott Percival is next on the chopping block. He was the main hero of the short story “Shield Me”, where he had to protect his prostitute girlfriend from a vicious madame named Carla Madder. The story itself is more than just a bloody battle; it’s a question of forgiveness. Can Scott stay by his girlfriend after knowing what she did for a living while he was off at war? The simple answer would be yes considering the story’s economy, but things aren’t always as simple as they seem.
And since Scott Percival is modeled after WWE wrestler Roman Reigns:
***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“All you dudes out there who’re saying I can’t wrestle, calm down, relax, take a sip of your beers, and shut your mouths.”
-Roman Reigns to an abusive WWE audience-
February 22, 2017
Demon Axe, Chapter 15
As lovely as listening to new age music during traumatic stress was, Daniel Mercer knew he couldn’t live in angst forever. The kind of therapy he needed would have lasted longer than one measly stay at a hospital. But Daniel had a job to do. He had people who depended on him. He had the souls of his dead friends to atone for.
The burden was weighing so heavily on his shoulders that he wasn’t sure his spine could hold it all. As soon as he gripped his sonic weapon with the tightness of a chokehold, his spine didn’t feel like ordinary bones. It felt like solid steel. His muscles felt like impregnable armor. His heart was pumping diesel and jet fuel.
With one victorious scream into his microphone, the straps on his bed snapped like the bones of anyone who dared put their hands on Raven Triscloud. The door tumbled over like the dead corpses of anybody who desecrated the memory of Daniel’s friends. Nurses, doctors, and even Shawn Henry himself fell over like a biblical tidal wave knocked them down.
Daniel’s breathing was raspy and vigorous as he stepped out of bed and changed into the fresh clothing Shawn brought form his apartment, not giving two shits if anybody saw him naked. Everyone knew what he represented when the came out in a red Demon Axe T-shirt, black jean shorts, and black combat boots with gray socks.
The doctors and nurses gazed upon him with a hodgepodge of amazement and fear. Even Shawn was taken aback by this newfound level of power.
The Lord of the Pit grinned his evilest grin as he tapped his microphone into his palm for rhythmic effect. He could hear the electric guitar playing in his head and it filled him with the true definition of demon death juice. In no uncertain terms, he shouted into the instrument of destruction, “I am Iron Man!”
Even though Shawn and Daniel were minutes later riding in a cop car, they preferred the adrenaline-fueled rage of a Demon Axe CD over the standard police radio. Communicating with other cops was out of the question since Shawn couldn’t tell who was on who’s side. He could have asked for backup and got a machete to the throat instead.
Shawn and Daniel banged their heads to the grinding guitars, thunderous bass, deadly drums, and throaty vocals the first Demon Axe CD was known for. Daniel even screamed along to the lyrics while Shawn flashed a smile at him. This wasn’t musical torture. This was the second coming of a rock and roll god.
It didn’t matter that the cop car’s ultimate destination would be the same outdoor arena where Roger’s first strike took place. Even as the road signs and landmarks looked familiar to Daniel, he didn’t cower in fear any longer. He just kept rocking and rolling to his own music, same as he did when he rode the tour bus to this concert with his old friends from young years.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Shawn as he pulled up to the parking lot of the outdoor arena and saw that an entire squadron of cops and cop cars were guarding the portal to the elven world. There they were with shotguns locked and loaded looking as stoic and mean as if they were actually guarding something important. Never mind the fact that they were clearly working for a “higher power”, or a certain elf with a blade who thought he was everybody’s deity.
The music stopped, but Daniel never lost his sniper-sight focus. If his facial expression could kill, this arena would have served as the site of a secondary massacre. He even managed to look scarier than the cops, giving Shawn a little bit of a nervous vibe. “Are you ready, Daniel?”
“I’m always ready when it’s show time. Let’s do this shit!” he growled before pounding the dashboard and stomping out of the vehicle with authority. Shawn was hesitant to follow knowing what these cops might do to him and Daniel, but he trudged along anyways.
“Halt! Don’t come any further! This is private property!” shouted the leader of this squadron while his underlings aimed their shotguns in Shawn and Daniel’s directions.
“I’m a cop, you idiots!” yelled Shawn. “If you shoot me and my friend, you might as well be committing treason! Hell, you’re probably doing that anyway knowing who’s beyond that portal!”
The captain turned his attention to Daniel and roared, “Drop the weapon before I…”
“No, dip shit!” bellowed Daniel into his microphone, the tsunami-like sound waves forcing the cops to drop their shotguns and cover their ears. Regardless of what political power they were serving, they were going to listen whether they liked it or not.
The Lord of the Pit jumped on top of Shawn’s car and unleashed a firestorm-like speech upon his audience through the devastating microphone. “When I was growing up in Paulson City, I was always told that the cops were the good guys! That they were here to protect us! That they actually gave a shit about our lives! And then I start paying attention to the news and I see you guys shooting unarmed civilians and beating the shit out of minorities! Just when I thought you fuckers couldn’t sink any lower, you start working with Roger fucking Zee!”
Instead of curling up with their ears covered, the cops slowly stood at full attention as if they actually gave a damn about what Daniel was saying. The heavy metal god screamed into the microphone some more. “Yeah, I know, I know. Roger Zee has the entire police force by the balls! He’s got dirt on each and every one of you! He’s targeting your families and friends! You’ve got no choice! I’ve heard this pile of crap for far too long now! You do have a choice! You just make the conscious decision to give up your freedom in exchange for comfort! And here I thought I was the pussy because I couldn’t get over my trauma!”
Monstrous breaths echoed across the arena and Daniel’s fiery eyes scorched the souls of everyone he spoke to. To further his point, he pointed down at Shawn and growled, “You see this motherfucker?! You see him?! He did something that all cops should aspire to do! He saved somebody’s life even when the pressure was mounting against him! He raged against the machine and brought justice to an already unfair exchange! He saved my life! And if he hadn’t shown up when he did, I would be goddamn dead! Just so you morons know, he too felt Roger Zee’s blackmail! He too had his family and career threatened! He did what was right anyways! Imagine that: cops actually doing their jobs!”
The cops’ facial expressions morphed back into intense anger, not at Daniel’s harsh criticisms, but at the fact that he was right all along. One of them even yelled, “Preach!” while throwing his fist in the air.
“You want me to preach?! You want me to fucking preach?!” roared Daniel. “Here’s the deal, nimrods! You can either clear a path to the elven world or I can keep shouting in this microphone until your ears and assholes are both bleeding like crazy! What’s that shit you macho men like to say?! Lead, follow, or get out of the way?! I think it’s time you start practicing what you preach! You want to be the good guys?! You want to serve and protect?! Then grow a backbone and some testicles and do it!”
The captain’s face turned solemn as he broke harsh news to Daniel and Shawn. “That was a hell of a speech, Mr. Demon Axe. But if you go flying through the portal right now, you’ll be smack dab in the middle of a war. We can listen to you talk all day long. But I’m not so sure our guys beyond the portal are going to be so receptive. We’ll see if your rage-a-holic oratory is going to be enough to pull my men out of a fight. And when I say fight, I mean bloody ass massacre. Elves vs. humans in a big ass battlefield. But hey, you’re used to controlling wild crowds, right?”
Daniel frowned and lowered his microphone before dropping to his knees. “We’re too late, Shawn. We’re too damn late. I spent too long in the hospital when I should have been doing my goddamn job!”
The Lord of the Put repeatedly punched the top of the car with the blade end of his microphone aimed at the metal, to which Shawn bull rushed him and yanked him off the car by his ankles. Daniel unleashed a colorful burst of swear words while Shawn had his arms wrapped around the singer in an attempt to calm him down. The detective even slammed Daniel on the hood of the car and that finally got the musician’s attention.
“Listen to me, damn it!” bellowed Shawn. “Up until now you’ve had a hot streak of aggression and rage! Don’t throw it all away just because you think we’re too late to stop anything! We’re pretty fucking far from late, my friend! So buck up, put your big boy boots on, and let’s march through that goddamn portal together! Move it!”
The burden was weighing so heavily on his shoulders that he wasn’t sure his spine could hold it all. As soon as he gripped his sonic weapon with the tightness of a chokehold, his spine didn’t feel like ordinary bones. It felt like solid steel. His muscles felt like impregnable armor. His heart was pumping diesel and jet fuel.
With one victorious scream into his microphone, the straps on his bed snapped like the bones of anyone who dared put their hands on Raven Triscloud. The door tumbled over like the dead corpses of anybody who desecrated the memory of Daniel’s friends. Nurses, doctors, and even Shawn Henry himself fell over like a biblical tidal wave knocked them down.
Daniel’s breathing was raspy and vigorous as he stepped out of bed and changed into the fresh clothing Shawn brought form his apartment, not giving two shits if anybody saw him naked. Everyone knew what he represented when the came out in a red Demon Axe T-shirt, black jean shorts, and black combat boots with gray socks.
The doctors and nurses gazed upon him with a hodgepodge of amazement and fear. Even Shawn was taken aback by this newfound level of power.
The Lord of the Pit grinned his evilest grin as he tapped his microphone into his palm for rhythmic effect. He could hear the electric guitar playing in his head and it filled him with the true definition of demon death juice. In no uncertain terms, he shouted into the instrument of destruction, “I am Iron Man!”
Even though Shawn and Daniel were minutes later riding in a cop car, they preferred the adrenaline-fueled rage of a Demon Axe CD over the standard police radio. Communicating with other cops was out of the question since Shawn couldn’t tell who was on who’s side. He could have asked for backup and got a machete to the throat instead.
Shawn and Daniel banged their heads to the grinding guitars, thunderous bass, deadly drums, and throaty vocals the first Demon Axe CD was known for. Daniel even screamed along to the lyrics while Shawn flashed a smile at him. This wasn’t musical torture. This was the second coming of a rock and roll god.
It didn’t matter that the cop car’s ultimate destination would be the same outdoor arena where Roger’s first strike took place. Even as the road signs and landmarks looked familiar to Daniel, he didn’t cower in fear any longer. He just kept rocking and rolling to his own music, same as he did when he rode the tour bus to this concert with his old friends from young years.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Shawn as he pulled up to the parking lot of the outdoor arena and saw that an entire squadron of cops and cop cars were guarding the portal to the elven world. There they were with shotguns locked and loaded looking as stoic and mean as if they were actually guarding something important. Never mind the fact that they were clearly working for a “higher power”, or a certain elf with a blade who thought he was everybody’s deity.
The music stopped, but Daniel never lost his sniper-sight focus. If his facial expression could kill, this arena would have served as the site of a secondary massacre. He even managed to look scarier than the cops, giving Shawn a little bit of a nervous vibe. “Are you ready, Daniel?”
“I’m always ready when it’s show time. Let’s do this shit!” he growled before pounding the dashboard and stomping out of the vehicle with authority. Shawn was hesitant to follow knowing what these cops might do to him and Daniel, but he trudged along anyways.
“Halt! Don’t come any further! This is private property!” shouted the leader of this squadron while his underlings aimed their shotguns in Shawn and Daniel’s directions.
“I’m a cop, you idiots!” yelled Shawn. “If you shoot me and my friend, you might as well be committing treason! Hell, you’re probably doing that anyway knowing who’s beyond that portal!”
The captain turned his attention to Daniel and roared, “Drop the weapon before I…”
“No, dip shit!” bellowed Daniel into his microphone, the tsunami-like sound waves forcing the cops to drop their shotguns and cover their ears. Regardless of what political power they were serving, they were going to listen whether they liked it or not.
The Lord of the Pit jumped on top of Shawn’s car and unleashed a firestorm-like speech upon his audience through the devastating microphone. “When I was growing up in Paulson City, I was always told that the cops were the good guys! That they were here to protect us! That they actually gave a shit about our lives! And then I start paying attention to the news and I see you guys shooting unarmed civilians and beating the shit out of minorities! Just when I thought you fuckers couldn’t sink any lower, you start working with Roger fucking Zee!”
Instead of curling up with their ears covered, the cops slowly stood at full attention as if they actually gave a damn about what Daniel was saying. The heavy metal god screamed into the microphone some more. “Yeah, I know, I know. Roger Zee has the entire police force by the balls! He’s got dirt on each and every one of you! He’s targeting your families and friends! You’ve got no choice! I’ve heard this pile of crap for far too long now! You do have a choice! You just make the conscious decision to give up your freedom in exchange for comfort! And here I thought I was the pussy because I couldn’t get over my trauma!”
Monstrous breaths echoed across the arena and Daniel’s fiery eyes scorched the souls of everyone he spoke to. To further his point, he pointed down at Shawn and growled, “You see this motherfucker?! You see him?! He did something that all cops should aspire to do! He saved somebody’s life even when the pressure was mounting against him! He raged against the machine and brought justice to an already unfair exchange! He saved my life! And if he hadn’t shown up when he did, I would be goddamn dead! Just so you morons know, he too felt Roger Zee’s blackmail! He too had his family and career threatened! He did what was right anyways! Imagine that: cops actually doing their jobs!”
The cops’ facial expressions morphed back into intense anger, not at Daniel’s harsh criticisms, but at the fact that he was right all along. One of them even yelled, “Preach!” while throwing his fist in the air.
“You want me to preach?! You want me to fucking preach?!” roared Daniel. “Here’s the deal, nimrods! You can either clear a path to the elven world or I can keep shouting in this microphone until your ears and assholes are both bleeding like crazy! What’s that shit you macho men like to say?! Lead, follow, or get out of the way?! I think it’s time you start practicing what you preach! You want to be the good guys?! You want to serve and protect?! Then grow a backbone and some testicles and do it!”
The captain’s face turned solemn as he broke harsh news to Daniel and Shawn. “That was a hell of a speech, Mr. Demon Axe. But if you go flying through the portal right now, you’ll be smack dab in the middle of a war. We can listen to you talk all day long. But I’m not so sure our guys beyond the portal are going to be so receptive. We’ll see if your rage-a-holic oratory is going to be enough to pull my men out of a fight. And when I say fight, I mean bloody ass massacre. Elves vs. humans in a big ass battlefield. But hey, you’re used to controlling wild crowds, right?”
Daniel frowned and lowered his microphone before dropping to his knees. “We’re too late, Shawn. We’re too damn late. I spent too long in the hospital when I should have been doing my goddamn job!”
The Lord of the Put repeatedly punched the top of the car with the blade end of his microphone aimed at the metal, to which Shawn bull rushed him and yanked him off the car by his ankles. Daniel unleashed a colorful burst of swear words while Shawn had his arms wrapped around the singer in an attempt to calm him down. The detective even slammed Daniel on the hood of the car and that finally got the musician’s attention.
“Listen to me, damn it!” bellowed Shawn. “Up until now you’ve had a hot streak of aggression and rage! Don’t throw it all away just because you think we’re too late to stop anything! We’re pretty fucking far from late, my friend! So buck up, put your big boy boots on, and let’s march through that goddamn portal together! Move it!”
