Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 94
November 3, 2016
Demon Axe, Chapter 6
Paperwork: the biggest reason why Detective Shawn Henry had kinks in his neck and back the size of potatoes. He sat at his desk with his head slouched over and his shoulders sagging. The dark circles under his eyes made him look like he was in a brutal boxing match; in this case, he went all twelve rounds with Mr. Sandman. The other cops at the station had gone home for the evening to their spouses and children. Shawn scribbled a pen across a mountain of paper while on autopilot. As he let out a cyclone of a yawn, the lights above him dimmed out and all he could rely on was his desk lamp.
So many dead bodies left behind by Roger Zee in the past few days, so many papers to fill out. Shawn put the pen down for a moment and let out another grizzly yawn before standing up and stretching his limbs out. He briefly held onto his tailbone and shifted his legs around to get some blood pumping back into them. It was during this moment of intense relief that he eyeballed a picture of his wife and daughter sitting in a golden frame on his desk. Seeing their sunlit faces brought a small grin to his own. “Don’t worry, papa’s going to be home soon,” Shawn said to the two members of the Henry Clan.
“I wouldn’t count on that if I were you,” said a raspy voice before a dagger was thrown into the picture, shattering the glass and knocking the frame to the floor. Shawn turned around with his fists clenched at his sides and a venomous stare saturating the shadowed frame of Roger Zee. With the other cops gone for the day, this was a strictly private conversation between the long arm of the law and the machete that wanted to chop it off. Roger showed off his razor sharp pearly whites in a sadistic grin underneath the glow of a fiery torch he held in one hand.
Shawn made a quick grab for the gun at his side, but Roger threw another knife and shattered the weapon as easily as the picture frame’s glass cover. Detective Henry let out a sharp hiss as a gash opened where his gun used to be. He pressed some of the paperwork against the wound and the bleeding was slowly stopping.
“Is there another magic trick you’d like to try?” asked Roger with sarcastic politeness. “Perhaps a shotgun? A knife? Your own shoes? Please, go ahead and keep delaying the inevitable. I love screwing around when there’s an important business matter to be discussed. It really throws a nice twist on the whole thing.”
In a wolf’s growl accompanied by heavy breathing, Shawn said, “The only business you have in my precinct is in a holding cell waiting for a fucking trial! You’re in no condition to be negotiating with me, you bloodthirsty freak! If I have to die fighting for what I believe in, then so be it! Kill me now and get it over with!”
Roger chuckled while slowly advancing toward his “business partner”. He waved the flaming torch around like he was getting ready to perform a pyromantic ritual. “Die for what you believe in? And what exactly do you believe in, Detective? Oppressing races? Claiming land as your own? Destroying longstanding traditions? By pursuing this case against me, you’re doing all of those things. And somehow, your media circus has labeled me the zealot.”
“So that’s what this is about?” asked Shawn. “You’re mad because somebody built an outdoor arena over your so-called sacred land? You would kill hundreds of people over something stupid like that?”
“This is more than a battle over some silly heavy metal venue,” explained Roger, waving the torch dangerously close to nearby desks. “This is about respect. This is about principles, honor, and tradition, something your human race knows nothing about. You allow those people to play obnoxious and offensive music after our land is long forgotten about. You’re spitting on the graves of those who came before you. Then again, your kind isn’t really a stranger to taking things that don’t belong to them. History tells that story over and over again.”
With one hand waving in confusion, Shawn said, “Well, what are you waiting for? You’ve got the machete. You’ve got the torch. What am I going to do: run away? Perform sick kung fu moves on you? Seriously, why are you making me wait for my own demise?!”
Roger laughed evilly and spun around with the flame, causing Shawn to almost fall on his desk in anticipation of being burned. The elf said, “You? No, this isn’t about you, Detective. You’re merely a cog in the machine. I want the whole damn machine. Listen carefully, my friend. What I’m about to propose to you will be the difference between a free country and a dystopian hellhole.”
Roger leaned his face close to Shawn’s and ejected foul breath as he said, “I want access to all of your police resources. I want your computers, your weapons, your military equipment, and even a few of your fellow cops’ cooperation. In return, your family and friends, each and every one of them, will live happily in my new world while everyone else burns down.”
Shawn tensed his muscles and shoved Roger back a few steps before asking, “What have you done with them? Where’s my family?! They better be alive or I’m putting your head on a fucking spear, bitch!”
Roger slapped his opponent across the face and knocked him to the floor, leaving him fading in and out of blackness. A burning red impression was left on the cop’s face and his eyes felt like they were going to burst out of his head. “Believe it or not, that slap I just gave you is the least of your worries. Your family is being kept in a safe place of my choosing. You can have them back as soon as you give me everything I want whenever I want it.”
The elf kneeled next to Shawn and stroked his thinning brown hair in the most sarcastic gesture of gentleness imaginable. “And when you get them back, be sure to give them all the psychological counseling you can afford with a cop’s salary….because some thoughts were never meant to be forgotten. They don’t just fly away like little birdies. They don’t soar through the clouds with heavenly angels. The kind of memories I gave them…are forever!”
With the last of his fading strength, Shawn reached his hand up and wrapped his beefy fingers around Roger’s throat, though any indication of the elf’s pain was once again masked by sarcastic gestures. The elf flicked the cop’s hand off of him like an annoying fly and said, “I expected much more strength from a guy who just learned that his family…well, there’s really no nice way to say this…actually, I don’t really have to say anything. The trauma speaks for itself!”
“When I regain consciousness…” said Shawn with a throaty voice. “I’m going to torture the shit out of you…I’ll make water boarding feel like a sponge bath….I’ll make electrocution feel like a back rub…and if you think heavy metal music is offensive to you now…wait until you hear it on full blast…twenty-four hours a day…seven days a week…until you go bat shit crazy! Then again…you’re already a nut job! Take your rightwing splooge and go to hell!” That last sentence was punctuated with bloody spit in Roger’s face.
The zealot smiled as he wiped the red saliva off of his face with his two forefingers. “I’m going to be the bigger man and let that go. After all, it’s what tyrants like you expect from your people: peacefulness in the face of military force. You can get that kind of cooperation from a lot of people. But from me, you’ll only get violence, hatred, and your own personal hell! I’ll give you some time to think about our little deal. Take as much time as you’d like. It’s not like your family is depending on you.”
Roger stood up and looked around at the police station with amazement on his flame-lit face. “Of course, if you’d rather I burn your police resources to the ground with you at the forefront, then I’d hate to waste this lovely torch. Pyromancy was once an ancient form of magic with sagely wisdom behind every flickering flame. Now you and your moronic race have made a mockery of our mysticism by inventing flamethrowers and drone bombs. You’ve used our own powers against us and expect us to be peaceful about it. Like I said earlier, you have some time to think about our deal. Go home. Get some sleep. Then again, your traumatized wife and daughter have a better chance of dreaming of unicorns and rainbows than you do. Toodles!”
The nationalist blew out the torch and little more could be heard than light footsteps pattering out the back exit of the precinct. It didn’t matter if there was a glowing light or not, because Shawn’s vision was already darker than the inside of a coffin. Tears welled up in his stinging eyes and aggravated the burn on his cheek from Roger’s slap. In Shawn’s mind, it mattered not if the building was full of cops or not: he was screwed.
In a way, he was glad no more human lives had to be sacrificed during Roger’s stealthy path to Detective Henry. It was only a modicum of relief for the now numb-minded cop. He still felt like screaming. He still wanted to murder and torture Roger Zee in the worst way. He was helpless to do either, so he blacked out into a dream that was definitely not about unicorns and rainbows.
So many dead bodies left behind by Roger Zee in the past few days, so many papers to fill out. Shawn put the pen down for a moment and let out another grizzly yawn before standing up and stretching his limbs out. He briefly held onto his tailbone and shifted his legs around to get some blood pumping back into them. It was during this moment of intense relief that he eyeballed a picture of his wife and daughter sitting in a golden frame on his desk. Seeing their sunlit faces brought a small grin to his own. “Don’t worry, papa’s going to be home soon,” Shawn said to the two members of the Henry Clan.
“I wouldn’t count on that if I were you,” said a raspy voice before a dagger was thrown into the picture, shattering the glass and knocking the frame to the floor. Shawn turned around with his fists clenched at his sides and a venomous stare saturating the shadowed frame of Roger Zee. With the other cops gone for the day, this was a strictly private conversation between the long arm of the law and the machete that wanted to chop it off. Roger showed off his razor sharp pearly whites in a sadistic grin underneath the glow of a fiery torch he held in one hand.
Shawn made a quick grab for the gun at his side, but Roger threw another knife and shattered the weapon as easily as the picture frame’s glass cover. Detective Henry let out a sharp hiss as a gash opened where his gun used to be. He pressed some of the paperwork against the wound and the bleeding was slowly stopping.
“Is there another magic trick you’d like to try?” asked Roger with sarcastic politeness. “Perhaps a shotgun? A knife? Your own shoes? Please, go ahead and keep delaying the inevitable. I love screwing around when there’s an important business matter to be discussed. It really throws a nice twist on the whole thing.”
In a wolf’s growl accompanied by heavy breathing, Shawn said, “The only business you have in my precinct is in a holding cell waiting for a fucking trial! You’re in no condition to be negotiating with me, you bloodthirsty freak! If I have to die fighting for what I believe in, then so be it! Kill me now and get it over with!”
Roger chuckled while slowly advancing toward his “business partner”. He waved the flaming torch around like he was getting ready to perform a pyromantic ritual. “Die for what you believe in? And what exactly do you believe in, Detective? Oppressing races? Claiming land as your own? Destroying longstanding traditions? By pursuing this case against me, you’re doing all of those things. And somehow, your media circus has labeled me the zealot.”
“So that’s what this is about?” asked Shawn. “You’re mad because somebody built an outdoor arena over your so-called sacred land? You would kill hundreds of people over something stupid like that?”
“This is more than a battle over some silly heavy metal venue,” explained Roger, waving the torch dangerously close to nearby desks. “This is about respect. This is about principles, honor, and tradition, something your human race knows nothing about. You allow those people to play obnoxious and offensive music after our land is long forgotten about. You’re spitting on the graves of those who came before you. Then again, your kind isn’t really a stranger to taking things that don’t belong to them. History tells that story over and over again.”
With one hand waving in confusion, Shawn said, “Well, what are you waiting for? You’ve got the machete. You’ve got the torch. What am I going to do: run away? Perform sick kung fu moves on you? Seriously, why are you making me wait for my own demise?!”
Roger laughed evilly and spun around with the flame, causing Shawn to almost fall on his desk in anticipation of being burned. The elf said, “You? No, this isn’t about you, Detective. You’re merely a cog in the machine. I want the whole damn machine. Listen carefully, my friend. What I’m about to propose to you will be the difference between a free country and a dystopian hellhole.”
Roger leaned his face close to Shawn’s and ejected foul breath as he said, “I want access to all of your police resources. I want your computers, your weapons, your military equipment, and even a few of your fellow cops’ cooperation. In return, your family and friends, each and every one of them, will live happily in my new world while everyone else burns down.”
Shawn tensed his muscles and shoved Roger back a few steps before asking, “What have you done with them? Where’s my family?! They better be alive or I’m putting your head on a fucking spear, bitch!”
Roger slapped his opponent across the face and knocked him to the floor, leaving him fading in and out of blackness. A burning red impression was left on the cop’s face and his eyes felt like they were going to burst out of his head. “Believe it or not, that slap I just gave you is the least of your worries. Your family is being kept in a safe place of my choosing. You can have them back as soon as you give me everything I want whenever I want it.”
The elf kneeled next to Shawn and stroked his thinning brown hair in the most sarcastic gesture of gentleness imaginable. “And when you get them back, be sure to give them all the psychological counseling you can afford with a cop’s salary….because some thoughts were never meant to be forgotten. They don’t just fly away like little birdies. They don’t soar through the clouds with heavenly angels. The kind of memories I gave them…are forever!”
With the last of his fading strength, Shawn reached his hand up and wrapped his beefy fingers around Roger’s throat, though any indication of the elf’s pain was once again masked by sarcastic gestures. The elf flicked the cop’s hand off of him like an annoying fly and said, “I expected much more strength from a guy who just learned that his family…well, there’s really no nice way to say this…actually, I don’t really have to say anything. The trauma speaks for itself!”
“When I regain consciousness…” said Shawn with a throaty voice. “I’m going to torture the shit out of you…I’ll make water boarding feel like a sponge bath….I’ll make electrocution feel like a back rub…and if you think heavy metal music is offensive to you now…wait until you hear it on full blast…twenty-four hours a day…seven days a week…until you go bat shit crazy! Then again…you’re already a nut job! Take your rightwing splooge and go to hell!” That last sentence was punctuated with bloody spit in Roger’s face.
The zealot smiled as he wiped the red saliva off of his face with his two forefingers. “I’m going to be the bigger man and let that go. After all, it’s what tyrants like you expect from your people: peacefulness in the face of military force. You can get that kind of cooperation from a lot of people. But from me, you’ll only get violence, hatred, and your own personal hell! I’ll give you some time to think about our little deal. Take as much time as you’d like. It’s not like your family is depending on you.”
Roger stood up and looked around at the police station with amazement on his flame-lit face. “Of course, if you’d rather I burn your police resources to the ground with you at the forefront, then I’d hate to waste this lovely torch. Pyromancy was once an ancient form of magic with sagely wisdom behind every flickering flame. Now you and your moronic race have made a mockery of our mysticism by inventing flamethrowers and drone bombs. You’ve used our own powers against us and expect us to be peaceful about it. Like I said earlier, you have some time to think about our deal. Go home. Get some sleep. Then again, your traumatized wife and daughter have a better chance of dreaming of unicorns and rainbows than you do. Toodles!”
The nationalist blew out the torch and little more could be heard than light footsteps pattering out the back exit of the precinct. It didn’t matter if there was a glowing light or not, because Shawn’s vision was already darker than the inside of a coffin. Tears welled up in his stinging eyes and aggravated the burn on his cheek from Roger’s slap. In Shawn’s mind, it mattered not if the building was full of cops or not: he was screwed.
In a way, he was glad no more human lives had to be sacrificed during Roger’s stealthy path to Detective Henry. It was only a modicum of relief for the now numb-minded cop. He still felt like screaming. He still wanted to murder and torture Roger Zee in the worst way. He was helpless to do either, so he blacked out into a dream that was definitely not about unicorns and rainbows.
November 2, 2016
Article
(Sarcastic parody of pop science.)
VERSE 1
Ninety percent of drinks are made with Xantham Gum
I don’t even know where that terminology comes from
All I know is that it could lead to the biggest stroke
Even though this article was probably written as a joke
CHORUS
I read an article on the internet X4
VERSE 2
Eighty percent of fat people are going to die
The rest of us are immortal; why would the article lie?
People who eat kale are going to live forever
The rest of the population will always say never
The sample size is only about thirty-five people
Yet we assume all humans are created equal
The results have been skewed in our own favor
Because avocado butter is the new life saver
CHORUS
I read an article on the internet X4
VERSE 3
The internet sheeple hang on every word we say
Because they don’t get their news any other way
Seventy percent of assholes in laboratory coats
Are trustworthy enough to dispel any single hoax
A hundred percent of people who blindly follow
Have toothpick spines and skulls that are hollow
Science is a business, everything we say is true
Farting cures cancer and even the moody blues
EXTENDED CHORUS
I read an article on the internet
I read with undivided interest
I believed it like I was in a cult
I bought everything they sold
I read an article on a website
I eat seaweed every damn night
I drink smoothies made of fish cum
At least it doesn’t have Xantham Gum
VERSE 1
Ninety percent of drinks are made with Xantham Gum
I don’t even know where that terminology comes from
All I know is that it could lead to the biggest stroke
Even though this article was probably written as a joke
CHORUS
I read an article on the internet X4
VERSE 2
Eighty percent of fat people are going to die
The rest of us are immortal; why would the article lie?
People who eat kale are going to live forever
The rest of the population will always say never
The sample size is only about thirty-five people
Yet we assume all humans are created equal
The results have been skewed in our own favor
Because avocado butter is the new life saver
CHORUS
I read an article on the internet X4
VERSE 3
The internet sheeple hang on every word we say
Because they don’t get their news any other way
Seventy percent of assholes in laboratory coats
Are trustworthy enough to dispel any single hoax
A hundred percent of people who blindly follow
Have toothpick spines and skulls that are hollow
Science is a business, everything we say is true
Farting cures cancer and even the moody blues
EXTENDED CHORUS
I read an article on the internet
I read with undivided interest
I believed it like I was in a cult
I bought everything they sold
I read an article on a website
I eat seaweed every damn night
I drink smoothies made of fish cum
At least it doesn’t have Xantham Gum
November 1, 2016
Hero
VERSE 1
Screaming into a phone doesn’t make you a hero
Saying otherwise means your IQ is a solid zero
Any coward can offend from miles away
Any moron can change his face and name
But in order to have a solid steel spinal cord
You’ve got to be prepared for a fistfight war
You hide behind lawyers and sympathetic judges
And wonder why the public holds violent grudges
CHORUS 1
I see no bravery among you criminals
Your valor is at the very best minimal
Lock your asses up and throw away the key
Even heroes know when it’s time to flee
VERSE 2
Blasting a sound cannon at a crowd of protesters
Ensures your status as the corporate protectors
You represent the evil you’re trying to fight
You make the streets dangerous to walk at night
The irony is killing me like a rubber bullet
We’re buried underneath mountains of bullshit
Karma is a bitch and she’ll smack you like a pimp
Until your Burger King body is broken and limp
CHORUS 1
I see no bravery among you criminals
Your valor is at the very best minimal
Lock your asses up and throw away the key
Even heroes know when it’s time to flee
VERSE 3
It’s the same old shit, but on a different day
The power hungry don’t know when to pay
They don’t know when to shut their mouths
They hide from justice like a frightened mouse
Prison is a bitch and so are you, my friend
You’ll one day know what it’s like to bend
If it takes forever, we’ll fight forever
We’ll bring the thunder and stormy weather
CHORUS 2
I see no bravery among you thieves
I see no end for the ones who greave
You steal life like a home invader
And turn the innocent into gladiators
You want a battle? Here’s a war
Justice and honor are what we fight for
We don’t need machineguns and tanks
To our strongest voices, we give our thanks
Screaming into a phone doesn’t make you a hero
Saying otherwise means your IQ is a solid zero
Any coward can offend from miles away
Any moron can change his face and name
But in order to have a solid steel spinal cord
You’ve got to be prepared for a fistfight war
You hide behind lawyers and sympathetic judges
And wonder why the public holds violent grudges
CHORUS 1
I see no bravery among you criminals
Your valor is at the very best minimal
Lock your asses up and throw away the key
Even heroes know when it’s time to flee
VERSE 2
Blasting a sound cannon at a crowd of protesters
Ensures your status as the corporate protectors
You represent the evil you’re trying to fight
You make the streets dangerous to walk at night
The irony is killing me like a rubber bullet
We’re buried underneath mountains of bullshit
Karma is a bitch and she’ll smack you like a pimp
Until your Burger King body is broken and limp
CHORUS 1
I see no bravery among you criminals
Your valor is at the very best minimal
Lock your asses up and throw away the key
Even heroes know when it’s time to flee
VERSE 3
It’s the same old shit, but on a different day
The power hungry don’t know when to pay
They don’t know when to shut their mouths
They hide from justice like a frightened mouse
Prison is a bitch and so are you, my friend
You’ll one day know what it’s like to bend
If it takes forever, we’ll fight forever
We’ll bring the thunder and stormy weather
CHORUS 2
I see no bravery among you thieves
I see no end for the ones who greave
You steal life like a home invader
And turn the innocent into gladiators
You want a battle? Here’s a war
Justice and honor are what we fight for
We don’t need machineguns and tanks
To our strongest voices, we give our thanks
Five Finger Death Punch X Shinedown Concert
***BEFORE I BEGIN***
Halloween has come and gone, so I’d like to speak a little bit about mine. As many of you know, it’s one of my favorite holidays of the year due to the dark fantasy creative fuel that comes from it. Ghosts, goblins, mummies, warlocks, necromancers, Halloween has the whole nine yards. I could write short stories and novels for days with this kind of inspiration, as dark fantasy is one of my favorite genres of books, movies, and videogames. Because I love scary themes so much, I dressed in a Slipknot mask (Mick Thomson’s take on Hannibal Lector), red Hawaiian shirt, blue pajama pants, and green cloak. Reina referred to my costume as a “random creepy guy” and I couldn’t really disagree with her. I collected a few frightened reactions on Halloween as well as a shit load of candy from Reina and I venturing to different neighborhoods in Port Orchard. It was a fun night, but make no mistake about it, at my weight and my age, it was an endurance test. I begged my mom to take me to the chiropractor after Halloween and that’s what we’re going to do sometime this week. I’m not as energetic as I used to be, which is why whenever I go to concerts, I now pick seated tickets instead of general admission floor tickets, which makes a nice segue for the main topic of this journal.
***FIVE FINGER DEATH PUNCH X SHINEDOWN CONCERT***
This coming Saturday November 5th, Five Finger Death Punch is going to headline a show at the Tacoma Dome with Shinedown, Sixx AM, and As Lions opening for them. I’ve been a Five Finger Death Punch fan since 2012 and continue to rock out to their badass speed metal and melodic tunes. I only started listening to Shinedown on a regular basis when WWE Raw used their song “Enemies” for the opening theme music. I’ve only heard one Sixx AM song my whole life and that was “Rise” (damn good song if I say so myself). I’m not familiar with As Lions, but I hear the singer is the son of a heavy metal legend. Four badass heavy metal bands, one night of awesomeness. I may be doing some writing or other art work that day, I may not, depending on my energy level during that general timeframe. I jokingly refer to music concerts as one-day vacations, which means despite my temporary absence from the internet, I’ll always be back for creative work. In the words of Ivan Moody, “Let’s burn this motherfucker to the ground!”
***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER SIX***
Detective Shawn Henry is having a busy night at the crime lab doing some bureaucratic bullshit for what should be an easy case. Naturally, he’s exhausted and bored out of his mind. He can’t wait to get home to his family. Roger Zee, who waits in the shadows for Detective Henry to be by himself in the crime lab, holds him hostage at blade-point and even reveals that Shawn’s family is also being held hostage in a mysterious location. Roger will let the Henry clan live in exchange for unlimited access to police resources, whether it’s computer databases, cop cooperation, or those lovely pieces of military equipment they love to flaunt so much. Will Shawn crack under the pressure and give into Roger’s demands or will things get bloody in a hurry?
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
As long as I’m opening this journal with a brief discussion of Halloween, I might as well bring up the biggest piece of dark fantasy news of all, the next entry in the Dark Fantasy Warriors collection. World, meet Bradshaw, a badass Kord-worshipping cleric whose biggest claim to fame is texting during a battle with a bloodthirsty dragon. He let his party down in a big way, but he still looked like a champ doing it. Bradshaw was a D&D character in the short story “Emoticon Artist”, being controlled by a sorrowful millennial named Beth Bradshaw. In fact, all of those D&D characters were named after the players’ surnames. That is what a creative genius I am. Cue the eye rolls.
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“Right between your eyes! Nowhere to hide! Click-clack, reload! Click-clack, unload! Life ain’t on your side! You’re out of time! Click-clack, reload! Click-clack, unload!”
-Five Finger Death Punch singing “No Sudden Movement”-
Halloween has come and gone, so I’d like to speak a little bit about mine. As many of you know, it’s one of my favorite holidays of the year due to the dark fantasy creative fuel that comes from it. Ghosts, goblins, mummies, warlocks, necromancers, Halloween has the whole nine yards. I could write short stories and novels for days with this kind of inspiration, as dark fantasy is one of my favorite genres of books, movies, and videogames. Because I love scary themes so much, I dressed in a Slipknot mask (Mick Thomson’s take on Hannibal Lector), red Hawaiian shirt, blue pajama pants, and green cloak. Reina referred to my costume as a “random creepy guy” and I couldn’t really disagree with her. I collected a few frightened reactions on Halloween as well as a shit load of candy from Reina and I venturing to different neighborhoods in Port Orchard. It was a fun night, but make no mistake about it, at my weight and my age, it was an endurance test. I begged my mom to take me to the chiropractor after Halloween and that’s what we’re going to do sometime this week. I’m not as energetic as I used to be, which is why whenever I go to concerts, I now pick seated tickets instead of general admission floor tickets, which makes a nice segue for the main topic of this journal.
***FIVE FINGER DEATH PUNCH X SHINEDOWN CONCERT***
This coming Saturday November 5th, Five Finger Death Punch is going to headline a show at the Tacoma Dome with Shinedown, Sixx AM, and As Lions opening for them. I’ve been a Five Finger Death Punch fan since 2012 and continue to rock out to their badass speed metal and melodic tunes. I only started listening to Shinedown on a regular basis when WWE Raw used their song “Enemies” for the opening theme music. I’ve only heard one Sixx AM song my whole life and that was “Rise” (damn good song if I say so myself). I’m not familiar with As Lions, but I hear the singer is the son of a heavy metal legend. Four badass heavy metal bands, one night of awesomeness. I may be doing some writing or other art work that day, I may not, depending on my energy level during that general timeframe. I jokingly refer to music concerts as one-day vacations, which means despite my temporary absence from the internet, I’ll always be back for creative work. In the words of Ivan Moody, “Let’s burn this motherfucker to the ground!”
***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER SIX***
Detective Shawn Henry is having a busy night at the crime lab doing some bureaucratic bullshit for what should be an easy case. Naturally, he’s exhausted and bored out of his mind. He can’t wait to get home to his family. Roger Zee, who waits in the shadows for Detective Henry to be by himself in the crime lab, holds him hostage at blade-point and even reveals that Shawn’s family is also being held hostage in a mysterious location. Roger will let the Henry clan live in exchange for unlimited access to police resources, whether it’s computer databases, cop cooperation, or those lovely pieces of military equipment they love to flaunt so much. Will Shawn crack under the pressure and give into Roger’s demands or will things get bloody in a hurry?
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
As long as I’m opening this journal with a brief discussion of Halloween, I might as well bring up the biggest piece of dark fantasy news of all, the next entry in the Dark Fantasy Warriors collection. World, meet Bradshaw, a badass Kord-worshipping cleric whose biggest claim to fame is texting during a battle with a bloodthirsty dragon. He let his party down in a big way, but he still looked like a champ doing it. Bradshaw was a D&D character in the short story “Emoticon Artist”, being controlled by a sorrowful millennial named Beth Bradshaw. In fact, all of those D&D characters were named after the players’ surnames. That is what a creative genius I am. Cue the eye rolls.
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“Right between your eyes! Nowhere to hide! Click-clack, reload! Click-clack, unload! Life ain’t on your side! You’re out of time! Click-clack, reload! Click-clack, unload!”
-Five Finger Death Punch singing “No Sudden Movement”-
October 30, 2016
Demon Axe, Chapter 5
“Why the fuck am I even arguing with a fucking cosplayer?” Daniel asked himself. “Fuck this shit, I need something to drink. Something strong. Something badass. Something that’s going to make my head explode.” The Lord of the Pit stomped off to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. The sounds of various items being tossed around in search of clothing could be heard well beyond the thickness of the door.
Raven grimaced in anger and marched to Daniel’s bedroom door before pounding on it with the force of a heavyweight boxer’s punch. “What do you mean you need something to drink?!” She shouted. “Do you actually think that liquid poison is going to help you?! Why the hell would somebody want to drink something that makes them stupid?! It makes no goddamn sense!”
Daniel opened his newly cracked door now dressed in ratty blue jean shorts, a red Pantera T-shirt, a stained leather jacket, and combat boots. “Just for the record, Raven, if that is your real fucking name, I’m already fucked up in the head to where I can’t even get a good night’s sleep. It’s not like one or two beers is going to make too much of a difference. If I’m going to be a lazy piece of shit, I might as well smell like liquid heaven. Get out of my way.”
The booming sound of glass shattering echoed throughout Daniel’s home. Raven immediately drew her blade while Daniel looked around with wide paranoid eyes. “What the hell was that? I haven’t even had a drop of beer yet and already I’m hearing things.”
“You’re not drunk or stoned, Daniel,” said Raven. “We need to get the hell out of here and fast. I believe I’ve been followed.”
“Yeah, that’s right, lead the big bad guys right to my house. That’s some five-star general shit right there,” said Daniel. Raven grabbed him by the hand and despite slurring protests from the rock star, dragged him down the hall towards the garage. “What the hell is chasing us, anyways?!” Daniel whined.
The elusive twosome barged through the garage door and hurriedly got inside the Demon Axe tour van, Daniel in the driver’s seat and Raven in the passenger’s. The Lord of the Pit fumbled to get the keys out of his shorts pocket while the elf warrior screamed, “Hurry! Get this thing started and let’s get out of here!”
The bomb-like sounds of pounding on the steel garage door nearly gave Daniel a heart attack as he clutched his chest and dropped the keys down the side of his seat. Raven cursed incessantly while digging around for the fallen keys, Daniel nothing more than a scared little mouse. The pounding continued until crater-sized dents formed in the door. The Lord of the Pit’s apoplexy nearly hit its climax when the garage door was ripped off and standing there were the brainwashed wrestlers Johnny Vega and Sonia Marquez, both of them with fists at their sides, muscles tensed, and angry breathing filling the garage like dragon smoke.
Not taking into account the crowns of thorns on the minions’ heads, Daniel’s mind-blowing fear fizzled into light laughter, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Holy shit, man!” he chuckled. “We’re being kidnapped by a couple of wrestling badasses! I love these guys! Maybe we can do a little autograph exchange or something!”
Raven smacked Daniel upside the head and brought him out of his fan-boy trance. She shoved the keys into the ignition and barked, “Drive, damn it!” As the heavy metal icon twisted the keys, the engine to the tour van was sputtering and blasting, like it hadn’t been driven in years. Johnny and Sonia slowly approached the lame duck vehicle with their muscular arms in the air and their claws extended. “Hurry, Daniel! Move it!”
“I’m trying to move, damn it!” shouted Daniel, still twisting the key as hard as he could. By this time the two brainwashed wrestlers began scratching the windshield of the fan and flicking glass shards into Raven and Daniel’s faces. Raven covered up with her arms while Daniel continued working on the ignition. After a few small cuts formed on Raven’s arms and Daniel’s face, Johnny Vega punched through the windshield and unleashed a blizzard of glass upon the driver and passenger.
Then and only then did the tour van purr to life. The two occupants were bleeding mildly from these small gashes, but Raven, being the solid warrior she was, swung her blade at the attackers and backed them off. Daniel slammed his foot on the accelerator and blazed down the street at nearly top speed. Johnny and Sonia sidestepped the vehicular onslaught, but grabbed a hold of the sides of the van and sunk their claws into the metal.
The neighborhood was empty of other drivers, so Daniel let out a heavy metal growl and swerved from side to side in an attempt to shake off his assailants. Their bodies flapped in the wind like flags of patriotism for their leader’s elven nation, but they refused to let go. Johnny, who had occupied the left side of the van, crawled and scratched his way toward Daniel’s window only to be slammed against a light post and bounced off of the street, causing the giant wrestler to roll and stumble on the sidewalk. The light post came crashing down on top of him and pinned the seven-footer on his back.
Daniel let out a victorious, “Woo-hoo!” only to have Raven’s window bashed in by Sonia’s legs, which then wrapped around the elf warrior’s neck and squeezed like a hangman’s noose. Her face turned several shades of purple and she even dropped her blade on the floor. Daniel smiled at the incident and maneuvered the van to the side where Sonia bounced head first off of a steel mail box. The MMA enthusiast let go of the chokehold and rolled down the sidewalk unconscious and defeated. Meanwhile, Raven clutched her own throat and coughed violently before sucking in sweet precious air.
“Are you alright, baby girl? I hope I didn’t rough you up too badly,” said Daniel in a celebratory tone.
After a few hard breaths of fresh oxygen, Raven said, “Don’t ever call me baby girl again.”
The van found a clear path to the highway and pulled over so that Daniel and Raven could assess their wounds. They ended up wrapping Demon Axe T-shirts (that were being sold as merchandise) around their cuts since the van wasn’t equipped with a first aid kit. Daniel and Raven sat together in the back of the van during this medical jury rigging and stared out into the rising sun. Their hunched over postures and heavy breathing suggested extreme tiredness for what they had just gone through.
“Here’s what I don’t understand about you, Raven,” said Daniel. “You’re an elf from another world, just like this Roger Zee douche-canoe is, yet you talk just like a normal human being, no different from what I’d hear on the streets.”
“It wasn’t always that way, Daniel,” said Raven as she placed a hand on his wounded shoulder. “Whenever one nation conquers another, the losing side always takes the language of their captors. Your people are freaking out over the appearance of elf terrorists, yet they do not know that the governments of the world have been in on this all along. I bet this narrative sounds familiar, especially as it relates to your native captors. You know the ones.”
“I never said I believed in all that Manifest Destiny bullshit,” said Daniel. “I don’t approve of any of this political violence no matter who it’s happening to. With that being said, I can understand why Roger Zee would be pissed off. It still doesn’t change the fact that he killed a bunch of innocent people to get his message across. Those concertgoers didn’t do anything wrong. They didn’t know what was happening. They just bought tickets thinking they were going to see some kick-ass heavy metal.”
“Truth be told, none of my people can understand Roger’s zealous ways. Yes, we’re upset at the way human governments have treated us, but we would never authorize the killing of innocents. Then again, how can some of those people be innocent when they’re just as scared of us as the pundits and politicians they blindly follow?”
Daniel placed his slashed up arm around Raven and said, “Not all of us are conformist sheep. But I will admit, enough of us are. As long as there are people in power who pull the puppet strings, there will always be puppets willing to dance along with them. I tried to convey that warning to my fans by having an all-Muslim and all-LGBT band open for us at the night of the concert. Some people got it, others didn’t. Some people just don’t want to see the light.”
Raven got down from the van and turned to face Daniel with a serious expression on her face. “I understand how powerful your music is. You can evoke all kinds of emotions with the heaviest chord or the wildest scream. But as powerful as your music is, Roger’s blade is that much more dangerous.”
“I see where you’re getting at,” nodded Daniel. “Trust me, my love for music is as dead as my band mates. I can’t even picture going on without them. They were like brothers to me. It’s part of the reason why I’m so fucked in the head right now.”
“There are other ways in which you can redeem yourself and fight for a noble cause, Daniel. But in order to do so, you have to listen closely to what I have to say. A lot of bad memories are going to come flooding back, but it’s for the good of the cause. We have to return to the scene of the concert,” said Raven.
“What? Are you crazy? There’s no chance in hell I’m going back there! I’m not exactly looking forward to seeing my friends’ heads rolling around on the ground with their spinal cords still intact!”
“I know that!” snapped Raven before returning to a lulling voice. “I know. That’s why I want to accompany you. I can keep you safe from anything Roger throws at us. I know I looked pretty weak back there while we were on the road, but I swear I’ll be ready next time.”
Daniel sighed, shook his head, and leaned his face down to hold the bridge of his nose. He took some more heavy sighs before lifting his head back up and saying, “You’d better be right about this. I’ll slash my own fucking throat before I get locked up in a loony bin. I like drugs, just not those ones.”
Raven placed both hands on either one of Daniel’s shoulders and said, “Trust me, my friend: this whole journey is going to feel like you’re on psychedelic drugs. Like I said, elves take the language of their conquerors. That means we have the same technology and urban development that you guys do. It’s just that in the elven world, things are slightly different. Just different enough to make you believe that you’re on LSD.”
“I would kill for some acid right now,” said Daniel with a flat tire noise and a small grin.
Raven grimaced in anger and marched to Daniel’s bedroom door before pounding on it with the force of a heavyweight boxer’s punch. “What do you mean you need something to drink?!” She shouted. “Do you actually think that liquid poison is going to help you?! Why the hell would somebody want to drink something that makes them stupid?! It makes no goddamn sense!”
Daniel opened his newly cracked door now dressed in ratty blue jean shorts, a red Pantera T-shirt, a stained leather jacket, and combat boots. “Just for the record, Raven, if that is your real fucking name, I’m already fucked up in the head to where I can’t even get a good night’s sleep. It’s not like one or two beers is going to make too much of a difference. If I’m going to be a lazy piece of shit, I might as well smell like liquid heaven. Get out of my way.”
The booming sound of glass shattering echoed throughout Daniel’s home. Raven immediately drew her blade while Daniel looked around with wide paranoid eyes. “What the hell was that? I haven’t even had a drop of beer yet and already I’m hearing things.”
“You’re not drunk or stoned, Daniel,” said Raven. “We need to get the hell out of here and fast. I believe I’ve been followed.”
“Yeah, that’s right, lead the big bad guys right to my house. That’s some five-star general shit right there,” said Daniel. Raven grabbed him by the hand and despite slurring protests from the rock star, dragged him down the hall towards the garage. “What the hell is chasing us, anyways?!” Daniel whined.
The elusive twosome barged through the garage door and hurriedly got inside the Demon Axe tour van, Daniel in the driver’s seat and Raven in the passenger’s. The Lord of the Pit fumbled to get the keys out of his shorts pocket while the elf warrior screamed, “Hurry! Get this thing started and let’s get out of here!”
The bomb-like sounds of pounding on the steel garage door nearly gave Daniel a heart attack as he clutched his chest and dropped the keys down the side of his seat. Raven cursed incessantly while digging around for the fallen keys, Daniel nothing more than a scared little mouse. The pounding continued until crater-sized dents formed in the door. The Lord of the Pit’s apoplexy nearly hit its climax when the garage door was ripped off and standing there were the brainwashed wrestlers Johnny Vega and Sonia Marquez, both of them with fists at their sides, muscles tensed, and angry breathing filling the garage like dragon smoke.
Not taking into account the crowns of thorns on the minions’ heads, Daniel’s mind-blowing fear fizzled into light laughter, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Holy shit, man!” he chuckled. “We’re being kidnapped by a couple of wrestling badasses! I love these guys! Maybe we can do a little autograph exchange or something!”
Raven smacked Daniel upside the head and brought him out of his fan-boy trance. She shoved the keys into the ignition and barked, “Drive, damn it!” As the heavy metal icon twisted the keys, the engine to the tour van was sputtering and blasting, like it hadn’t been driven in years. Johnny and Sonia slowly approached the lame duck vehicle with their muscular arms in the air and their claws extended. “Hurry, Daniel! Move it!”
“I’m trying to move, damn it!” shouted Daniel, still twisting the key as hard as he could. By this time the two brainwashed wrestlers began scratching the windshield of the fan and flicking glass shards into Raven and Daniel’s faces. Raven covered up with her arms while Daniel continued working on the ignition. After a few small cuts formed on Raven’s arms and Daniel’s face, Johnny Vega punched through the windshield and unleashed a blizzard of glass upon the driver and passenger.
Then and only then did the tour van purr to life. The two occupants were bleeding mildly from these small gashes, but Raven, being the solid warrior she was, swung her blade at the attackers and backed them off. Daniel slammed his foot on the accelerator and blazed down the street at nearly top speed. Johnny and Sonia sidestepped the vehicular onslaught, but grabbed a hold of the sides of the van and sunk their claws into the metal.
The neighborhood was empty of other drivers, so Daniel let out a heavy metal growl and swerved from side to side in an attempt to shake off his assailants. Their bodies flapped in the wind like flags of patriotism for their leader’s elven nation, but they refused to let go. Johnny, who had occupied the left side of the van, crawled and scratched his way toward Daniel’s window only to be slammed against a light post and bounced off of the street, causing the giant wrestler to roll and stumble on the sidewalk. The light post came crashing down on top of him and pinned the seven-footer on his back.
Daniel let out a victorious, “Woo-hoo!” only to have Raven’s window bashed in by Sonia’s legs, which then wrapped around the elf warrior’s neck and squeezed like a hangman’s noose. Her face turned several shades of purple and she even dropped her blade on the floor. Daniel smiled at the incident and maneuvered the van to the side where Sonia bounced head first off of a steel mail box. The MMA enthusiast let go of the chokehold and rolled down the sidewalk unconscious and defeated. Meanwhile, Raven clutched her own throat and coughed violently before sucking in sweet precious air.
“Are you alright, baby girl? I hope I didn’t rough you up too badly,” said Daniel in a celebratory tone.
After a few hard breaths of fresh oxygen, Raven said, “Don’t ever call me baby girl again.”
The van found a clear path to the highway and pulled over so that Daniel and Raven could assess their wounds. They ended up wrapping Demon Axe T-shirts (that were being sold as merchandise) around their cuts since the van wasn’t equipped with a first aid kit. Daniel and Raven sat together in the back of the van during this medical jury rigging and stared out into the rising sun. Their hunched over postures and heavy breathing suggested extreme tiredness for what they had just gone through.
“Here’s what I don’t understand about you, Raven,” said Daniel. “You’re an elf from another world, just like this Roger Zee douche-canoe is, yet you talk just like a normal human being, no different from what I’d hear on the streets.”
“It wasn’t always that way, Daniel,” said Raven as she placed a hand on his wounded shoulder. “Whenever one nation conquers another, the losing side always takes the language of their captors. Your people are freaking out over the appearance of elf terrorists, yet they do not know that the governments of the world have been in on this all along. I bet this narrative sounds familiar, especially as it relates to your native captors. You know the ones.”
“I never said I believed in all that Manifest Destiny bullshit,” said Daniel. “I don’t approve of any of this political violence no matter who it’s happening to. With that being said, I can understand why Roger Zee would be pissed off. It still doesn’t change the fact that he killed a bunch of innocent people to get his message across. Those concertgoers didn’t do anything wrong. They didn’t know what was happening. They just bought tickets thinking they were going to see some kick-ass heavy metal.”
“Truth be told, none of my people can understand Roger’s zealous ways. Yes, we’re upset at the way human governments have treated us, but we would never authorize the killing of innocents. Then again, how can some of those people be innocent when they’re just as scared of us as the pundits and politicians they blindly follow?”
Daniel placed his slashed up arm around Raven and said, “Not all of us are conformist sheep. But I will admit, enough of us are. As long as there are people in power who pull the puppet strings, there will always be puppets willing to dance along with them. I tried to convey that warning to my fans by having an all-Muslim and all-LGBT band open for us at the night of the concert. Some people got it, others didn’t. Some people just don’t want to see the light.”
Raven got down from the van and turned to face Daniel with a serious expression on her face. “I understand how powerful your music is. You can evoke all kinds of emotions with the heaviest chord or the wildest scream. But as powerful as your music is, Roger’s blade is that much more dangerous.”
“I see where you’re getting at,” nodded Daniel. “Trust me, my love for music is as dead as my band mates. I can’t even picture going on without them. They were like brothers to me. It’s part of the reason why I’m so fucked in the head right now.”
“There are other ways in which you can redeem yourself and fight for a noble cause, Daniel. But in order to do so, you have to listen closely to what I have to say. A lot of bad memories are going to come flooding back, but it’s for the good of the cause. We have to return to the scene of the concert,” said Raven.
“What? Are you crazy? There’s no chance in hell I’m going back there! I’m not exactly looking forward to seeing my friends’ heads rolling around on the ground with their spinal cords still intact!”
“I know that!” snapped Raven before returning to a lulling voice. “I know. That’s why I want to accompany you. I can keep you safe from anything Roger throws at us. I know I looked pretty weak back there while we were on the road, but I swear I’ll be ready next time.”
Daniel sighed, shook his head, and leaned his face down to hold the bridge of his nose. He took some more heavy sighs before lifting his head back up and saying, “You’d better be right about this. I’ll slash my own fucking throat before I get locked up in a loony bin. I like drugs, just not those ones.”
Raven placed both hands on either one of Daniel’s shoulders and said, “Trust me, my friend: this whole journey is going to feel like you’re on psychedelic drugs. Like I said, elves take the language of their conquerors. That means we have the same technology and urban development that you guys do. It’s just that in the elven world, things are slightly different. Just different enough to make you believe that you’re on LSD.”
“I would kill for some acid right now,” said Daniel with a flat tire noise and a small grin.
Change the Channel
VERSE 1
Pick your battles, change the channel
To inner peace, rage can’t hold a candle
So much negativity invading your space
As if you could actually change this place
Worldwide trauma is too much drama
While everybody likes to blame Obama
Don’t forget who the real owners are
Remember as you put gas in your car
CHORUS
Why am I watching this brutal shit?
Why am I reading this vitriolic lit?
I’m saving my anger for another day
I’m changing the channel to get away
VERSE 2
Save your sanity, no more Hannity
The safest space is your own canopy
Filter out the hatred and brutality
Too much finality in this reality
It’s not that I don’t give a fuck
It’s just that we’re shit out of luck
Don’t rub it in my goddamn face
You can’t invade my safest place
CHORUS
Why am I watching this brutal shit?
Why am I reading this vitriolic lit?
I’m saving my anger for another day
I’m changing the channel to get away
VERSE 3
Too much anger and too much scorn
We’re physically sick and mentally worn
Sometimes it’s better not to be born
To a world covered in bloodlust porn
People wonder why I run and hide
From the darkness I keep on the inside
Because it’s like a war zone outside
With too much bigotry and national pride
EXTENDED CHORUS
Why am I watching this brutal shit?
Why am I reading this vitriolic lit?
I’m saving my anger for another day
I’m changing the channel to get away
They say I need to open my mind
Yet they’re the ones who are blind
What do they think I’ll try to find?
Death and disease of a different kind?
Pick your battles, change the channel
To inner peace, rage can’t hold a candle
So much negativity invading your space
As if you could actually change this place
Worldwide trauma is too much drama
While everybody likes to blame Obama
Don’t forget who the real owners are
Remember as you put gas in your car
CHORUS
Why am I watching this brutal shit?
Why am I reading this vitriolic lit?
I’m saving my anger for another day
I’m changing the channel to get away
VERSE 2
Save your sanity, no more Hannity
The safest space is your own canopy
Filter out the hatred and brutality
Too much finality in this reality
It’s not that I don’t give a fuck
It’s just that we’re shit out of luck
Don’t rub it in my goddamn face
You can’t invade my safest place
CHORUS
Why am I watching this brutal shit?
Why am I reading this vitriolic lit?
I’m saving my anger for another day
I’m changing the channel to get away
VERSE 3
Too much anger and too much scorn
We’re physically sick and mentally worn
Sometimes it’s better not to be born
To a world covered in bloodlust porn
People wonder why I run and hide
From the darkness I keep on the inside
Because it’s like a war zone outside
With too much bigotry and national pride
EXTENDED CHORUS
Why am I watching this brutal shit?
Why am I reading this vitriolic lit?
I’m saving my anger for another day
I’m changing the channel to get away
They say I need to open my mind
Yet they’re the ones who are blind
What do they think I’ll try to find?
Death and disease of a different kind?
Dead Roses
VERSE 1
Sitting in a vase all precious and pretty
Nothing for the soul that feels so shitty
Nothing for the heart made of chiseled stone
Nothing for the man who feels all alone
Dead roses are just a pile of corpses
Taken away by the devilish forces
You’re not a lover, you’re an undertaker
Sending men to their graves to meet their maker
CHORUS 1
Dead roses on a coffee table
Dead roses, the coffin’s nails
Dead roses with vampire thorns
Dead roses never again to be born
VERSE 2
The sweetest flower, a symbol of love
Gifted to me by an angel from above
I was never a knight in shining armor
A dancing fool with no dance partner
A fool for believing in fairy tales
When the simplest flirt ends in a fail
A prisoner of my own steel cage
A life sentence full of quiet rage
CHORUS 2
Dead roses in a padded cell
Dead roses burning in hell
Dead roses with stinger blades
Dead roses of wilting shades
BRIDGE
A loaded trap with the easiest bait
A dying romance with a sealed fate
A garden of roses, a rotting cemetery
A collection of souls so incendiary
VERSE 3
You’re not an angel, but a mere mortal
You’re not a hero of love, too immoral
You’re a soldier of fortune, a mercenary
Another burden that my heart must carry
All I have left are these wilted roses
Offensive to the least sensitive noses
Another plant gave its life for nothing
Another symbol for wasted loving
CHORUS 3
Dead roses in a garbage can
Dead roses to your biggest fan
Dead roses on the casket lid
Who the hell are you trying to kid?
Fights and arguments, war and peace
Only death could make it all cease
You made me fall in love with you
And slashed my heart right in two
Sitting in a vase all precious and pretty
Nothing for the soul that feels so shitty
Nothing for the heart made of chiseled stone
Nothing for the man who feels all alone
Dead roses are just a pile of corpses
Taken away by the devilish forces
You’re not a lover, you’re an undertaker
Sending men to their graves to meet their maker
CHORUS 1
Dead roses on a coffee table
Dead roses, the coffin’s nails
Dead roses with vampire thorns
Dead roses never again to be born
VERSE 2
The sweetest flower, a symbol of love
Gifted to me by an angel from above
I was never a knight in shining armor
A dancing fool with no dance partner
A fool for believing in fairy tales
When the simplest flirt ends in a fail
A prisoner of my own steel cage
A life sentence full of quiet rage
CHORUS 2
Dead roses in a padded cell
Dead roses burning in hell
Dead roses with stinger blades
Dead roses of wilting shades
BRIDGE
A loaded trap with the easiest bait
A dying romance with a sealed fate
A garden of roses, a rotting cemetery
A collection of souls so incendiary
VERSE 3
You’re not an angel, but a mere mortal
You’re not a hero of love, too immoral
You’re a soldier of fortune, a mercenary
Another burden that my heart must carry
All I have left are these wilted roses
Offensive to the least sensitive noses
Another plant gave its life for nothing
Another symbol for wasted loving
CHORUS 3
Dead roses in a garbage can
Dead roses to your biggest fan
Dead roses on the casket lid
Who the hell are you trying to kid?
Fights and arguments, war and peace
Only death could make it all cease
You made me fall in love with you
And slashed my heart right in two
October 27, 2016
Common Dreams
***COMMON DREAMS***
Ever since I started using my CPAP breathing machine in the summer of this year, I’ve had a harder time remembering my dreams. That’s probably because my dreams were either about weird ass competitions I was in or scenarios that would make good novels but only in the dream and not in the real world. Those are the only two types of dreams I have difficulty remembering. While this is normal for people who use a CPAP, there have been nights where my dreams were as clear as day. I don’t talk about my dreams as often as I used to. I used to do dream posts all the time on my blog Garrison’s Library, but what those amounted to was a bunch of boo-hooing that they didn’t involve sex or having a girlfriend. Hey, I was lonely and didn’t know what to do with my life, give me a break. Thankfully, I won’t subject you guys to any of that shallow whining. Tonight’s journal entry will be about common themes in the dreams I can actually remember. I don’t know what they mean or why they keep coming up, but I can assure you that it has nothing to do with my deep rooted desire to have a romantic relationship with a female rock star. Let’s get started.
1. Air Travel. My parents take a lot of vacations and sometimes I tag along with them. Some of them involved air travel, such as New Orleans, Hawaii, California, Colorado, or New Mexico. Maybe I keep dreaming about boarding airplanes because of these experiences. It used to be that I would feel anxious while having one of these dreams because I’d forget to pack my schizophrenia medication. Not the case anymore.
2. Cats. I’d move either way from an old house or into a new one and both times there were cats I’d have to take care of. Lots of cats. Orange cats, black cats, calicoes, marmalades, tuxedos, lots of goddamn cats. I once had a WSS member named Mark ask why he was more weirded out by me being a crazy cat man than after any reading of my violent short stories. I laugh about it every time I read that comment, because it was intended to be good natured. But now I think maybe he has a point. Hehe!
3. Chehalis. I’ve lived in the small conservative town of Chehalis, Washington from 1996 to 2001. While I don’t look back on this time in my life favorably, the dreams I’ve had about this town were noteworthy in many ways. I’ve dreamed about buying prostitutes, having a library job, visiting my childhood friends Winn and Duncan, catching a bus ride, searching for my childhood friend Nathan, and wandering through the apocalypse. If the apocalypse was really going to happen, it would definitely happen in Chehalis. Trust me on that one.
4. Concerts. It mattered not who was playing and it mattered even less where they were playing. In my dreamland, I’ve been to a Three Days Grace concert that took place in a college classroom. I’ve been to a Roger Waters concert at a stone-built temple. I’ve been to a Rammstein concert at both a Chinese restaurant and a roller skating rink. I’ve been to a Pantera concert at an abandoned grocery store (they played where the deli used to be). I’ve been to a concert where Skillet opened for Green Day and me and James got kicked out of the venue when Green Day played. I must really love concerts.
5. Diaper Shopping. These dreams would involve me waking up at an ungodly hour of the day, walking through dark and dreary weather, and cruising Fred Meyer or Rite Aid looking for a package of adult diapers, which would be used for sexual purposes. The dilemma of these dreams was that I had nowhere to hide the diapers from my family. Well, in the dreams, diaper sex was a great idea, but when I woke up, I realized it wouldn’t happen in a million years.
6. Dragon Ball Z. When I’m watching this anime in my dreams, I’m playing a desperate game of catch-up with some new series they put out, usually involving Vegeta getting humiliated or an apocalyptic scenario. Maybe these new DBZ episodes took place in Chehalis. I also play catch-up with new Gundam shows, but those are normally easier to follow than Dragon Ball Z episodes. Should I start watching anime again as a means of curing my boredom? Maybe when I get a better streaming service than my burned out Roku.
7. Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. I would either participate in these games or watch them on TV. Every time I do either, all of the players would fail miserably at both games. It’s kind of like the real world, but it’s more brutal, it’s drawn out forever, and it would take place in the past. During the toss-up rounds in Wheel of Fortune, Vanna White would actually flip the letters on that old-school board and the contestants would still get it wrong. Sometimes they’d even guess numbers and punctuation marks. Jesus Christ, man. One time during an episode of Jeopardy, Rosalind Cash (Dr. Cushing from Tales from the Hood) hosted Final Jeopardy and the category was Prostitutes. Double Jesus Christ, man.
8. Libraries. These are some of my favorite dreams, obviously because I’m an author who eye-guzzles literature on a daily basis. I always dream about checking out a shit ton of books, buying a bunch of RPG rule books, or checking out a Robotech book since I also dream about playing catch-up with this book series. Sometimes I would dream about playing D&D or buying action figures and Legos from a library. No nightmare fuel here!
9. Pink Floyd the Wall. When if first saw the music video for Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2 in the mid 1990’s, I tried my damnedest to try and avoid looking at the faceless masks ever again. They were creepy and nightmare inducing to the point where I’d even avoid looking at them in my dreams. I eventually got over my fear when I saw Roger Waters in concert in 2000, but in my dreams, I always avoid going to the Pink Floyd section of every record and video store.
10. School. Whether it’s middle school, high school, or college, the common themes in these dreams include failing classes, dropping out of classes, finding a seat in class that doesn’t have a bunch of graffiti on it, finding my next class while naked, taking gym classes at a community college, and reading a novel and actually being able to pass the class because of it. A less common theme would be fighting with a bully, to which I would feel angry after waking up. Why am I so obsessed with school? Is this why I write a lot of school-related stories for the WSS?
11. VHS Tapes. I’d have dreams about visiting my biological father Michael Temons and while I was at his house I’d dig through his VHS collection. Sometimes they would be episodes of Monsters. Sometimes they would be music videos from VH1. Sometimes they would be cartoons from the 80’s and 90’s. No matter what it was, I’d want those VHS tapes in the worst way. Same thing with his audio tapes. Maybe this is my brain’s way of thanking my dad for giving me an old school state of mind. He did introduce me to The Police, The Moody Blues, and Pink Floyd, after all.
12. Videogames. I played a lot of goddamn videogames until I officially retired in 2010 due to getting my ass kicked multiple times by a lava dragon in Final Fantasy III. Maybe these dreams are trying to pull me back in. I’ve played Super Mario games with Phantos aplenty, Final Fight games where I got my ass quickly kicked, Street Fighter games where I threw my opponent off of a high ledge, Mega Man games where I’d get frustrated as hell, Diablo II sequels that were exactly the same as the prequel but more frustrating, and Final Fantasy NES games where I couldn’t figure out what the hell I was doing. I’d also play Final Fantasy-themed RPG’s where I’d be on the verge of fighting the Calcobrena Puppets in some creepy form. I once fought a bunch of baldheaded puppets that sat in rocking chairs, pointed at my characters, and laughed evilly. When it comes to videogames, every time I think I’m out, they pull me back in!
13. World Championship Wrestling. The Monday Night Wars between the WWE and WCW were a time in wrestling history where both sides actually cared about improving and nobody had a complacent monopoly. My WCW dreams, however, tell a different story. Sometimes there would be a shitload of championship belts. Sometimes Rey Mysterio would dominate the show. Sometimes the WCW Nitro episodes would take place in a wooden hut. Sometimes Hulk Hogan would come to the ring to a Moody Blues song. Maybe WCW would actually stay in business today if these things really happened. Or it would have folded sooner than 2001, we don’t know.
I’d like to think that I could harvest some decent creative fuel from these odd dreams. I certainly thought that when I dreamed about Hulk Hogan battling a crew of squid-like aliens. But the problem with using dreams as creative fuel is that they don’t amount to solid stories unless you tweak so much of the original dream that it loses its genuineness. The author has a decision to make between a good story and staying faithful to the original inspiration. I’ll always choose to have a good story, which is why the Hulk Hogan dream never materialized into an actual piece of literature: too many loose ends and plot holes. This is not to say that dreams are meaningless and that they should be ignored. There’s a reason I keep having these themes pop up in my head at night. If only I could tap into them in a way that made sense.
***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 5***
There is a month-long discrepancy between chapters three and four of Demon Axe. This is unacceptable to me, especially since National Novel Writing Month is coming up after Halloween and I want to make the most of it. Let’s see what I can come up with for chapter five of this WIP novel. The chapter is going to start off by somebody smashing Daniel Mercer’s windows and breaking into his house. Raven Triscloud seems to think that she and Daniel are being followed by Roger Zee’s newly-enslaved minions Johnny Vega and Sonia Marquez. Daniel and Raven will have to put aside their disagreements if they want to make it through this night alive.
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
One of the things I’m trying to do with these character drawings is show them in different poses from what I feel comfortable doing. Too many of these drawings show the character folding his arms, having his hands at his sides, or waving his hands in the air. Very rarely does the character stand at an angle and when he does, it usually ends ridiculously as seen with the Shawn Henry drawing. That’s the thing about trying new ideas: sometimes you strike gold and other times you spill fertilizer. I’m hoping to strike gold with Soa, one of the two Samoan cannibals from the short story “Chunky Puffs”.
***COLLEGE HUMOR DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
GOOGLE GUY: Come on in. Don’t worry about me. It’s Jackson Polluck’s birthday today and I’m covered in paint to celebrate his particular art style.
USER: Why do farts smell?
GOOGLE GUY: One of the most important painters of all time and you want to know why farts smell.
-If Google Was a Guy-
Ever since I started using my CPAP breathing machine in the summer of this year, I’ve had a harder time remembering my dreams. That’s probably because my dreams were either about weird ass competitions I was in or scenarios that would make good novels but only in the dream and not in the real world. Those are the only two types of dreams I have difficulty remembering. While this is normal for people who use a CPAP, there have been nights where my dreams were as clear as day. I don’t talk about my dreams as often as I used to. I used to do dream posts all the time on my blog Garrison’s Library, but what those amounted to was a bunch of boo-hooing that they didn’t involve sex or having a girlfriend. Hey, I was lonely and didn’t know what to do with my life, give me a break. Thankfully, I won’t subject you guys to any of that shallow whining. Tonight’s journal entry will be about common themes in the dreams I can actually remember. I don’t know what they mean or why they keep coming up, but I can assure you that it has nothing to do with my deep rooted desire to have a romantic relationship with a female rock star. Let’s get started.
1. Air Travel. My parents take a lot of vacations and sometimes I tag along with them. Some of them involved air travel, such as New Orleans, Hawaii, California, Colorado, or New Mexico. Maybe I keep dreaming about boarding airplanes because of these experiences. It used to be that I would feel anxious while having one of these dreams because I’d forget to pack my schizophrenia medication. Not the case anymore.
2. Cats. I’d move either way from an old house or into a new one and both times there were cats I’d have to take care of. Lots of cats. Orange cats, black cats, calicoes, marmalades, tuxedos, lots of goddamn cats. I once had a WSS member named Mark ask why he was more weirded out by me being a crazy cat man than after any reading of my violent short stories. I laugh about it every time I read that comment, because it was intended to be good natured. But now I think maybe he has a point. Hehe!
3. Chehalis. I’ve lived in the small conservative town of Chehalis, Washington from 1996 to 2001. While I don’t look back on this time in my life favorably, the dreams I’ve had about this town were noteworthy in many ways. I’ve dreamed about buying prostitutes, having a library job, visiting my childhood friends Winn and Duncan, catching a bus ride, searching for my childhood friend Nathan, and wandering through the apocalypse. If the apocalypse was really going to happen, it would definitely happen in Chehalis. Trust me on that one.
4. Concerts. It mattered not who was playing and it mattered even less where they were playing. In my dreamland, I’ve been to a Three Days Grace concert that took place in a college classroom. I’ve been to a Roger Waters concert at a stone-built temple. I’ve been to a Rammstein concert at both a Chinese restaurant and a roller skating rink. I’ve been to a Pantera concert at an abandoned grocery store (they played where the deli used to be). I’ve been to a concert where Skillet opened for Green Day and me and James got kicked out of the venue when Green Day played. I must really love concerts.
5. Diaper Shopping. These dreams would involve me waking up at an ungodly hour of the day, walking through dark and dreary weather, and cruising Fred Meyer or Rite Aid looking for a package of adult diapers, which would be used for sexual purposes. The dilemma of these dreams was that I had nowhere to hide the diapers from my family. Well, in the dreams, diaper sex was a great idea, but when I woke up, I realized it wouldn’t happen in a million years.
6. Dragon Ball Z. When I’m watching this anime in my dreams, I’m playing a desperate game of catch-up with some new series they put out, usually involving Vegeta getting humiliated or an apocalyptic scenario. Maybe these new DBZ episodes took place in Chehalis. I also play catch-up with new Gundam shows, but those are normally easier to follow than Dragon Ball Z episodes. Should I start watching anime again as a means of curing my boredom? Maybe when I get a better streaming service than my burned out Roku.
7. Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. I would either participate in these games or watch them on TV. Every time I do either, all of the players would fail miserably at both games. It’s kind of like the real world, but it’s more brutal, it’s drawn out forever, and it would take place in the past. During the toss-up rounds in Wheel of Fortune, Vanna White would actually flip the letters on that old-school board and the contestants would still get it wrong. Sometimes they’d even guess numbers and punctuation marks. Jesus Christ, man. One time during an episode of Jeopardy, Rosalind Cash (Dr. Cushing from Tales from the Hood) hosted Final Jeopardy and the category was Prostitutes. Double Jesus Christ, man.
8. Libraries. These are some of my favorite dreams, obviously because I’m an author who eye-guzzles literature on a daily basis. I always dream about checking out a shit ton of books, buying a bunch of RPG rule books, or checking out a Robotech book since I also dream about playing catch-up with this book series. Sometimes I would dream about playing D&D or buying action figures and Legos from a library. No nightmare fuel here!
9. Pink Floyd the Wall. When if first saw the music video for Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2 in the mid 1990’s, I tried my damnedest to try and avoid looking at the faceless masks ever again. They were creepy and nightmare inducing to the point where I’d even avoid looking at them in my dreams. I eventually got over my fear when I saw Roger Waters in concert in 2000, but in my dreams, I always avoid going to the Pink Floyd section of every record and video store.
10. School. Whether it’s middle school, high school, or college, the common themes in these dreams include failing classes, dropping out of classes, finding a seat in class that doesn’t have a bunch of graffiti on it, finding my next class while naked, taking gym classes at a community college, and reading a novel and actually being able to pass the class because of it. A less common theme would be fighting with a bully, to which I would feel angry after waking up. Why am I so obsessed with school? Is this why I write a lot of school-related stories for the WSS?
11. VHS Tapes. I’d have dreams about visiting my biological father Michael Temons and while I was at his house I’d dig through his VHS collection. Sometimes they would be episodes of Monsters. Sometimes they would be music videos from VH1. Sometimes they would be cartoons from the 80’s and 90’s. No matter what it was, I’d want those VHS tapes in the worst way. Same thing with his audio tapes. Maybe this is my brain’s way of thanking my dad for giving me an old school state of mind. He did introduce me to The Police, The Moody Blues, and Pink Floyd, after all.
12. Videogames. I played a lot of goddamn videogames until I officially retired in 2010 due to getting my ass kicked multiple times by a lava dragon in Final Fantasy III. Maybe these dreams are trying to pull me back in. I’ve played Super Mario games with Phantos aplenty, Final Fight games where I got my ass quickly kicked, Street Fighter games where I threw my opponent off of a high ledge, Mega Man games where I’d get frustrated as hell, Diablo II sequels that were exactly the same as the prequel but more frustrating, and Final Fantasy NES games where I couldn’t figure out what the hell I was doing. I’d also play Final Fantasy-themed RPG’s where I’d be on the verge of fighting the Calcobrena Puppets in some creepy form. I once fought a bunch of baldheaded puppets that sat in rocking chairs, pointed at my characters, and laughed evilly. When it comes to videogames, every time I think I’m out, they pull me back in!
13. World Championship Wrestling. The Monday Night Wars between the WWE and WCW were a time in wrestling history where both sides actually cared about improving and nobody had a complacent monopoly. My WCW dreams, however, tell a different story. Sometimes there would be a shitload of championship belts. Sometimes Rey Mysterio would dominate the show. Sometimes the WCW Nitro episodes would take place in a wooden hut. Sometimes Hulk Hogan would come to the ring to a Moody Blues song. Maybe WCW would actually stay in business today if these things really happened. Or it would have folded sooner than 2001, we don’t know.
I’d like to think that I could harvest some decent creative fuel from these odd dreams. I certainly thought that when I dreamed about Hulk Hogan battling a crew of squid-like aliens. But the problem with using dreams as creative fuel is that they don’t amount to solid stories unless you tweak so much of the original dream that it loses its genuineness. The author has a decision to make between a good story and staying faithful to the original inspiration. I’ll always choose to have a good story, which is why the Hulk Hogan dream never materialized into an actual piece of literature: too many loose ends and plot holes. This is not to say that dreams are meaningless and that they should be ignored. There’s a reason I keep having these themes pop up in my head at night. If only I could tap into them in a way that made sense.
***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 5***
There is a month-long discrepancy between chapters three and four of Demon Axe. This is unacceptable to me, especially since National Novel Writing Month is coming up after Halloween and I want to make the most of it. Let’s see what I can come up with for chapter five of this WIP novel. The chapter is going to start off by somebody smashing Daniel Mercer’s windows and breaking into his house. Raven Triscloud seems to think that she and Daniel are being followed by Roger Zee’s newly-enslaved minions Johnny Vega and Sonia Marquez. Daniel and Raven will have to put aside their disagreements if they want to make it through this night alive.
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
One of the things I’m trying to do with these character drawings is show them in different poses from what I feel comfortable doing. Too many of these drawings show the character folding his arms, having his hands at his sides, or waving his hands in the air. Very rarely does the character stand at an angle and when he does, it usually ends ridiculously as seen with the Shawn Henry drawing. That’s the thing about trying new ideas: sometimes you strike gold and other times you spill fertilizer. I’m hoping to strike gold with Soa, one of the two Samoan cannibals from the short story “Chunky Puffs”.
***COLLEGE HUMOR DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
GOOGLE GUY: Come on in. Don’t worry about me. It’s Jackson Polluck’s birthday today and I’m covered in paint to celebrate his particular art style.
USER: Why do farts smell?
GOOGLE GUY: One of the most important painters of all time and you want to know why farts smell.
-If Google Was a Guy-
October 26, 2016
Photo Safari
“Holy shit, these are some damn good pictures,” said Pierce Fritz to himself as he flipped through the bikini-clad women on his digital camera. The pudgy horseshoe-haired photographer drooled over these women’s bodies and had to wipe his mouth off with a McDonald’s napkin afterwards. He sat in the driver’s seat of his blacked out car and had his laptop in the passenger’s seat. Putting these “sexy” women’s faces to names was as easy as logging onto Face Book. “You fucking millennials are making this way too easy,” chuckled Pierce.
The sunny beaches of Paulson City was a gold mine of fapping material, but the one woman who really had Pierce’s groin in an electrical storm was a toned and fit black lady in a white thong bikini and long silky black hair with yellow and green streaks. The photographer clapped his hands giddily before snapping a picture of her and running her face through his computer. “Welcome to the machine, Trinity O’Dell,” said Pierce with a wide and malicious grin on his saggy face. He took another bite of his Egg McMuffin and smacked his lips both in appreciation of his breakfast and also in appreciation of Trinity’s “gorgeous” body.
“Uh-oh…” said Pierce as he surfed further through Miss O’Dell’s Face Book profile. It didn’t surprise him that she had a boyfriend. With legs and feet like those, why wouldn’t she? What got his eyes to nearly bulge out of his head was that this boyfriend was a human refrigerator of a black man who played football in college. “Looks like this Austin Cain fellow might be some healthy competition,” whispered Pierce. The initial shock wore off when the pervert horse-laughed his way back to happiness.
Trinity strutted towards the ice cream stand, looking around with her hand shielding her eyes for presumably her boyfriend Austin. Pierce shrugged and snapped more photos of her, aiming his lens around her ample breasts, firm buttocks, silky legs, and smooth feet. He could have been here all day every day if it wasn’t for the harsh sound of fists pounding on his hood snapping him out of an erection-induced trance.
Staring him down through the tinted windshield was the Mohawk-donning, football jersey-wearing, and gigantic-bodied Austin Cain, whose teeth were clenched tightly and whose eyes were staring bullets into Pierce Fritz. The photographer’s cheeks vibrated and his eyes widened while Austin marched to the side of the car and tried to open it. The ex-quarterback pounded on the window and shouted, “Hey! Open this goddamn door! Get out of the motherfucking car, bitch! You want to snap pictures of my girl?! Huh?! Get your motherfucking ass out of the car!”
Pierce did as he was told, but through the passenger’s door instead and in his haste dropped his camera down a storm drain. He said, “Shit!” multiple times as his thunderous legs tried to haul his big ass down the boardwalk in route to safety. No matter how much energy he put into this escape, Pierce’s lungs were burning and his legs were aching. He could have just collapsed on the ground and napped for the rest of the day.
Austin, being the more athletically gifted of the two, easily caught up to Pierce and grabbed him around the stomach with his twenty-four-inch pythons. As the fat fuck yelled for help in the most pathetic voice possible and attracted gawkers in the process, Austin heaved his clumsy body up in the air and slammed him against the stone railing. The boyfriend of Trinity O’Dell grabbed him by his sweaty polo shirt and yelled, “You think this is funny?! You think you’re just going to get away with this shit?! I’ll punch your whole chest cavity out, faggot! I’ll throw your ass screaming from a fucking helicopter!”
“Austin, stop! What the hell are you doing, babe?! Let him go!” shouted Trinity from the sidelines with her fists by her side.
“This creep was taking pictures of you, baby girl! You want me to let his ass go?! I don’t think so!” shouted Austin with his fist poised in the air for a punch.
“Please! Please! Listen to your girlfriend, Austin!” said Pierce in a shaky and whiny voice. “You can’t afford to go back to jail, not with your record! This will be your third strike! Listen to reason and let me go! Don’t do this!”
“Wait a minute, how the fuck do you know all of this?!” demanded Austin. When Pierce allowed a sly smile to spread across his egg-covered lips, the football prodigy unleashed a volcanic burst of swear words and shook him so hard that the photographer almost had whiplash. Trinity screamed and pleaded with her boyfriend as she tried to pry his arms off.
Austin’s blind rage caused him to jerk his arm away and accidentally knock Trinity to the ground, leaving her sobbing hysterically while he watched in horror. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do nothing like that,” said the boyfriend as he slowly knelt down to try and comfort her.
“Step aside, Mr. Cain. Put your hands in the air where I can see them,” said a nearby patrol officer with his gun drawn.
Austin slowly stepped away from Pierce and Trinity with his hands in the air while staring his third strike right in the face with shock and terror. “Officer, I can explain. This creep was taking pictures of my girl. His camera’s got to be around here somewhere. Look for yourself.”
The officer pointed the gun at Pierce, who was on his knees blubbering like a baby and saying incoherently, “Please, Officer. I just want to get home to my family. I don’t need any more of this. You saw this guy mug me. What was I supposed to do?”
“That is the biggest load of crap on the whole goddamn planet!” shouted Austin as he pointed his accusatory finger at the emotional Pierce. “You’re taking pictures of my girlfriend and now you sit there crying like a little bitch! I ought to rip your head off and shove it up your big fat ass, motherfucker!”
With Austin’s back turned and with Trinity shouting pleas, the officer tackled the football player to the ground and wrestled his arms behind his back with enough force to cause his bones to crack. The cop cinched the handcuffs on so tightly that they almost sliced Mr. Cain’s hands off. With Trinity screaming and overflowing with tears, the cop put Austin in a headlock and dragged him to the back of the squad car. After shutting the boyfriend inside, the cop pointed a finger at Trinity and yelled, “Hey! You better calm your ass down or you’re going to get tased! Do not think for one minute that I’m joking around!”
As Trinity’s heavy sobs were reduced to light whimpers, the cop got into his car and drove away with Austin screaming obscenities at him in the back seat. Miss O’Dell was on her hands and knees shaking and crying while the gawkers walked away one by one. Once the crowd went away, so did Pierce Fritz’s fake tears. Trinity looked him right in his phony face and softly said, “You’re an asshole. This is all your fault.”
“That’s not true at all, Miss O’Dell,” said Pierce as he used the stone railing to help himself back up. “Your boyfriend was the one with anger problems, not me. Do you millenials have to put everything on Face Book? I mean, everything? Then again, if you were actually able to keep secrets, we wouldn’t be in this mess, now would we?”
Trinity spit at Pierce’s croc-wearing feet and said, “Go to hell.”
The photographer smiled and said, “I’m going to let that one slide. In fact, if we’re going to have a working relationship together, there’s a lot I’m going to have to let slide.” Trinity looked up at him with a mixture of confusion and disdain. “Now that I’ve got your attention, I have a little business proposition for you. You want to bail Austin out of prison? I can give you the money, no problem. It’s probably going to be nothing more than a few hundred dollars, which is clearly more than you have right now. I will cover the cost of Austin’s bail bond on one condition: you’re going to do some modeling work for me. You’re going to be my photographic muse, so to speak. Do we have a deal?”
Trinity’s raining wet eyes widened as she asked, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m an extortionist, babe, it’s what I do. I’ve made enough money over the years that I can pay people to do whatever the hell I want. Maybe I can get one of those hunky surf guys over there to dance in a chicken suit for a few hundred bucks,” chuckled Pierce.
“You’re a monster. You’re a goddamn monster!” said Trinity through clenched teeth and a vibrating body.
“Once again, I’m going to let that one slide. Aren’t I just a charitable guy today? In any event, the offer is still on the table. You’re going to have a serious decision to make. Does your hate for me override your love for Austin? You have a week to think about it. I’ll be in touch,” said Pierce as he waddled back to his car.
Trinity stayed kneeling on the beach with disgust, horror, and anger flowing through her shaking body like hot lava. She wanted to punch Pierce so hard that he would be constipated with his own teeth. She wanted to rip his legs off and beat him to death with the bones. She wanted to snap his neck like a twig and roll his head down the boardwalk like a bowling ball. Trinity knew she didn’t have the combat skills to pull any of that off. Maybe this “modeling gig” was her only answer at buying Austin his freedom. Her final thought on the matter came in the form of dry heaving on the boardwalk.
The sunny beaches of Paulson City was a gold mine of fapping material, but the one woman who really had Pierce’s groin in an electrical storm was a toned and fit black lady in a white thong bikini and long silky black hair with yellow and green streaks. The photographer clapped his hands giddily before snapping a picture of her and running her face through his computer. “Welcome to the machine, Trinity O’Dell,” said Pierce with a wide and malicious grin on his saggy face. He took another bite of his Egg McMuffin and smacked his lips both in appreciation of his breakfast and also in appreciation of Trinity’s “gorgeous” body.
“Uh-oh…” said Pierce as he surfed further through Miss O’Dell’s Face Book profile. It didn’t surprise him that she had a boyfriend. With legs and feet like those, why wouldn’t she? What got his eyes to nearly bulge out of his head was that this boyfriend was a human refrigerator of a black man who played football in college. “Looks like this Austin Cain fellow might be some healthy competition,” whispered Pierce. The initial shock wore off when the pervert horse-laughed his way back to happiness.
Trinity strutted towards the ice cream stand, looking around with her hand shielding her eyes for presumably her boyfriend Austin. Pierce shrugged and snapped more photos of her, aiming his lens around her ample breasts, firm buttocks, silky legs, and smooth feet. He could have been here all day every day if it wasn’t for the harsh sound of fists pounding on his hood snapping him out of an erection-induced trance.
Staring him down through the tinted windshield was the Mohawk-donning, football jersey-wearing, and gigantic-bodied Austin Cain, whose teeth were clenched tightly and whose eyes were staring bullets into Pierce Fritz. The photographer’s cheeks vibrated and his eyes widened while Austin marched to the side of the car and tried to open it. The ex-quarterback pounded on the window and shouted, “Hey! Open this goddamn door! Get out of the motherfucking car, bitch! You want to snap pictures of my girl?! Huh?! Get your motherfucking ass out of the car!”
Pierce did as he was told, but through the passenger’s door instead and in his haste dropped his camera down a storm drain. He said, “Shit!” multiple times as his thunderous legs tried to haul his big ass down the boardwalk in route to safety. No matter how much energy he put into this escape, Pierce’s lungs were burning and his legs were aching. He could have just collapsed on the ground and napped for the rest of the day.
Austin, being the more athletically gifted of the two, easily caught up to Pierce and grabbed him around the stomach with his twenty-four-inch pythons. As the fat fuck yelled for help in the most pathetic voice possible and attracted gawkers in the process, Austin heaved his clumsy body up in the air and slammed him against the stone railing. The boyfriend of Trinity O’Dell grabbed him by his sweaty polo shirt and yelled, “You think this is funny?! You think you’re just going to get away with this shit?! I’ll punch your whole chest cavity out, faggot! I’ll throw your ass screaming from a fucking helicopter!”
“Austin, stop! What the hell are you doing, babe?! Let him go!” shouted Trinity from the sidelines with her fists by her side.
“This creep was taking pictures of you, baby girl! You want me to let his ass go?! I don’t think so!” shouted Austin with his fist poised in the air for a punch.
“Please! Please! Listen to your girlfriend, Austin!” said Pierce in a shaky and whiny voice. “You can’t afford to go back to jail, not with your record! This will be your third strike! Listen to reason and let me go! Don’t do this!”
“Wait a minute, how the fuck do you know all of this?!” demanded Austin. When Pierce allowed a sly smile to spread across his egg-covered lips, the football prodigy unleashed a volcanic burst of swear words and shook him so hard that the photographer almost had whiplash. Trinity screamed and pleaded with her boyfriend as she tried to pry his arms off.
Austin’s blind rage caused him to jerk his arm away and accidentally knock Trinity to the ground, leaving her sobbing hysterically while he watched in horror. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do nothing like that,” said the boyfriend as he slowly knelt down to try and comfort her.
“Step aside, Mr. Cain. Put your hands in the air where I can see them,” said a nearby patrol officer with his gun drawn.
Austin slowly stepped away from Pierce and Trinity with his hands in the air while staring his third strike right in the face with shock and terror. “Officer, I can explain. This creep was taking pictures of my girl. His camera’s got to be around here somewhere. Look for yourself.”
The officer pointed the gun at Pierce, who was on his knees blubbering like a baby and saying incoherently, “Please, Officer. I just want to get home to my family. I don’t need any more of this. You saw this guy mug me. What was I supposed to do?”
“That is the biggest load of crap on the whole goddamn planet!” shouted Austin as he pointed his accusatory finger at the emotional Pierce. “You’re taking pictures of my girlfriend and now you sit there crying like a little bitch! I ought to rip your head off and shove it up your big fat ass, motherfucker!”
With Austin’s back turned and with Trinity shouting pleas, the officer tackled the football player to the ground and wrestled his arms behind his back with enough force to cause his bones to crack. The cop cinched the handcuffs on so tightly that they almost sliced Mr. Cain’s hands off. With Trinity screaming and overflowing with tears, the cop put Austin in a headlock and dragged him to the back of the squad car. After shutting the boyfriend inside, the cop pointed a finger at Trinity and yelled, “Hey! You better calm your ass down or you’re going to get tased! Do not think for one minute that I’m joking around!”
As Trinity’s heavy sobs were reduced to light whimpers, the cop got into his car and drove away with Austin screaming obscenities at him in the back seat. Miss O’Dell was on her hands and knees shaking and crying while the gawkers walked away one by one. Once the crowd went away, so did Pierce Fritz’s fake tears. Trinity looked him right in his phony face and softly said, “You’re an asshole. This is all your fault.”
“That’s not true at all, Miss O’Dell,” said Pierce as he used the stone railing to help himself back up. “Your boyfriend was the one with anger problems, not me. Do you millenials have to put everything on Face Book? I mean, everything? Then again, if you were actually able to keep secrets, we wouldn’t be in this mess, now would we?”
Trinity spit at Pierce’s croc-wearing feet and said, “Go to hell.”
The photographer smiled and said, “I’m going to let that one slide. In fact, if we’re going to have a working relationship together, there’s a lot I’m going to have to let slide.” Trinity looked up at him with a mixture of confusion and disdain. “Now that I’ve got your attention, I have a little business proposition for you. You want to bail Austin out of prison? I can give you the money, no problem. It’s probably going to be nothing more than a few hundred dollars, which is clearly more than you have right now. I will cover the cost of Austin’s bail bond on one condition: you’re going to do some modeling work for me. You’re going to be my photographic muse, so to speak. Do we have a deal?”
Trinity’s raining wet eyes widened as she asked, “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m an extortionist, babe, it’s what I do. I’ve made enough money over the years that I can pay people to do whatever the hell I want. Maybe I can get one of those hunky surf guys over there to dance in a chicken suit for a few hundred bucks,” chuckled Pierce.
“You’re a monster. You’re a goddamn monster!” said Trinity through clenched teeth and a vibrating body.
“Once again, I’m going to let that one slide. Aren’t I just a charitable guy today? In any event, the offer is still on the table. You’re going to have a serious decision to make. Does your hate for me override your love for Austin? You have a week to think about it. I’ll be in touch,” said Pierce as he waddled back to his car.
Trinity stayed kneeling on the beach with disgust, horror, and anger flowing through her shaking body like hot lava. She wanted to punch Pierce so hard that he would be constipated with his own teeth. She wanted to rip his legs off and beat him to death with the bones. She wanted to snap his neck like a twig and roll his head down the boardwalk like a bowling ball. Trinity knew she didn’t have the combat skills to pull any of that off. Maybe this “modeling gig” was her only answer at buying Austin his freedom. Her final thought on the matter came in the form of dry heaving on the boardwalk.
October 23, 2016
Demon Axe, Chapter 4
After so many days of reliving nightmare after nightmare, a blank gray dream was soothing to Daniel Mercer’s brain. This was the one part of his day-to-day life where being spacey and numb was perfectly acceptable. No racing thoughts, no bloody traumas, no rapid heartbeats, just a slow, drowsy screen of gray and a relaxed body and mind. Daniel was so out of it that the mere act of lifting a body part was more taxing than trying to lift the heaviest stone. He didn’t give two shits about the piles of bills sitting on his coffee table or the general messiness of his house. The garbage-smelling laundry and filth-encrusted dishes could wait just one more night of Novocain bliss.
He could have stayed in bed all night and sank into his mattress like quicksand if it wasn’t for this painful and heavy sensation in his bladder. He opened his eyes halfway and slurred his words when he said, “Goddamn it.” The minute he left his hazy cloudland, the numbed out feeling returned to his brain. Wearing little more than a T-shirt and athletic shorts, Daniel eased his way out of bed and bumped into every wall, corner, and piece of furniture on his way to the bathroom, only giving a minimal, “Ow!” every time.
Releasing his waterfall of urine into the toilet was the only thing more pleasurable than having a dreamless sleep. With the halogen lights burning his eyeballs and forcing them open, Daniel leaned his head backwards as the last of his fluids emptied into the foamy toilet. He didn’t even bother flushing or washing his hands. He stumbled right to the sink and splashed cold water in his face, as if that would actually ease the never-ending ache in his mind.
Looking into the mirror and seeing an elf woman standing behind him sent a jolt throughout Daniel’s body and caused him to scream as he turned around. His breathing was heavy and raspy, like a shot of adrenaline had just pierced his heart Pulp Fiction-style. “This better be a fucking dream,” Daniel struggled to say. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you Dungeons & Dragons motherfuckers ever again!”
Compared to the elf terrorist at the concert, this woman was a breath of fresh air, though still an elf and still worthy of xenophobia, in Daniel’s mind. Her long black hair, pale green skin, and plump cherry lips gave her the appearance of a sex goddess. Her studded leather armor fit around her like a one-piece bathing suit. Her furry brown boots kept the longest knife tucked away in the most obvious spot, keeping away anybody thinking of screwing with her.
Her arms were folded against her chest and her quarter-smile accented her sarcasm as she shook her head at the pathetic-looking Daniel Mercer. “You share the stage with people from all walks of life and you still have enough hatred in your heart to disparage an entire race of people. That’s okay, though. I understand people of your world aren’t quite used to seeing my race just yet. Up until Roger Zee invaded your concert, we’ve done a fairly good job of keeping quiet among the masses.”
Daniel wheezed and laughed as he held the edges of the sink to keep from falling over. “His name is Roger Zee? Wow. Holy shit! If he wasn’t so good with a machete, nobody would be afraid of this fucking clown. It’s like my man George Carlin once said: there would have never been a World War II if Hitler’s first name was Floyd. They would have beaten the shit out of him in Munich in 1931.”
“Mockery aside, that’s exactly what I came here talk to you about: Roger Zee. I didn’t want to knock on your door, because my race is still trying to keep quiet about its existence. But I hear the whispers. I see the television screens. The racism and xenophobia of your pundits is astounding,” said the elf woman.
“Welcome to America, babe,” said Daniel in a disturbingly nonchalant way. “I don’t like the bigotry either, but it doesn’t really matter what I think anymore. I’m just one guy. I used to have three other guys with me, but they’re all fucking dead and my vote didn’t matter anyways because the system sucks. I’m forty years old and I can safely say that after what happened at the concert, nothing shocks me anymore.”
The elf woman placed her soft hands on Daniel’s shoulders and said in a low voice, “I can see you’ve gone through a lot over the past few days. We all have. But instead of coming together and living as one, all I see from your people is hatred and division. They don’t know what to do about Roger and his rampage. But I do. I know exactly what it takes to bring him down. But I can’t do it without your help.”
Daniel gave the elf woman a raised eyebrow of confusion before pushing her hands off of his shoulders. “You know the dark fantasy shit is just a gimmick, right? We didn’t actually do any weird ass rituals backstage during a Demon Axe show. It’s a motivational tactic. I’m not a warrior by any stretch of the imagination. I’ve been in a few barroom brawls, but nothing beyond that. Fighting a bunch of drunken losers isn’t going to prepare me for a madman with a goddamn machete. Sorry, lady, but you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
The former Lord of the Pit tried to walk away, but felt his hand being tugged on by the elf warrior’s silky grip. This would have been lovely to him if he wasn’t trying to get a good night’s sleep and forget all of this “happy horseshit”. The elf said, “If you don’t want to fight alongside me, then at least agree to get out of this place for your own safety. Roger isn’t done with you. You played what he calls ‘sinful music’ on holy grounds. As a zealot, he’s not going to forgive you that easily.”
Daniel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before saying, “You know what, lady? If this Roger Ball Z guy wants to slash me open, I’m not entirely against it. I’ve been having traumatic nightmares left and right and getting my head cut off might be the best thing for me right now. I’m done with life. If I can’t play badass fucking music with my friends, then I don’t want to live anymore. Fuck it, I’m done.”
The rock star jerked his hand away from the woman’s grip and trudged slowly on his way back to his bedroom. “So that’s it, huh?” the elf said. “You’re just going to let Roger win that easily?” Daniel stopped and listened. “I thought your race didn’t negotiate with terrorists. I thought you were all about truth, justice, and the American way. I thought you people shot off pyrotechnics every year to celebrate your patriotism. Are you telling me that you’re all out of firepower?”
Daniel shot the elf woman an insidious glare before marching back to her with fists clenched and feet pounding. “You know what?” he shouted while pointing his index finger at her. “You’re absolutely right! You’re one hundred percent on the dot! I should be like those assholes out there who like to play army and form my own fucking militia! I should go to a gun show and buy every bazooka, every AK-47, every Sherman Tank that they’ve got and blast that motherfucking elf right out of the ground! And then I’ll stand on top of his corpse with an American flag in one hand and a greasy ass cheeseburger in the other! And then we’ll all gather in a circle and chant ‘USA! USA! USA! USA!’.”
The moment of rage turned so awkwardly quiet that the heavy breathing between Daniel and the elf could be heard from a mile away. The former Lord of the Pit continued his tirade with, “That shit may be acceptable in Arnold Schwarzenegger movies, but in the real world, this shit hurts so badly that we feel it forever. The good guys sometimes lose. The police are not always on your side. The politicians don’t give a shit about anybody but themselves. As long as this country is occupied by selfish ignorant people, nobody can do a goddamn thing about Roger fucking Zee!”
The elf woman’s expression changed from brave cheerleading to vulgar disgust. She shook her head and said, “You’re right. Demon Axe is just a gimmick. You’re no different from any other musician who sings about being tough and mighty in the face of danger. What was I thinking coming here? That battleaxe microphone you used is nothing more than a toy. I’m sorry your band mates were led to believe that the whole gimmick was just a lie. It was a little white lie that cost them their lives. And now you don’t want to put in any work to avenge their souls. Good day to you, Lord of the Pit!”
She stomped her way to the front door when Daniel stopped her by shouting, “Who in the hell do you think you are talking to me like that?! You don’t know me! You’re just a fan girl who probably downloaded my band’s albums for free! Hell, you’re worse than that! You’re a groupie!” The elf woman stopped at that insult and turned around to stare daggers into her assailant. “That’s right! You’re a groupie who rides every dick to the top of the mountain! Oh, did I touch a nerve? Is that not who you are? Well, then answer my fucking question, you crazy bitch! Who in the hell do you think you are?!”
The woman marched up to Daniel and slapped him across the face with a shot so stiff that it knocked him on his back. The rock star clutched his stinging, burning cheek with both calloused hands while the elf pointed at him and said in a menacing voice, “I’ll tell you who I am. My name is Raven Triscloud. I am the daughter of King Arthur Triscloud and the only reason my people will know any kind of salvation. If you won’t help me take down a nationalistic zealot like Roger Zee, then I’ll be more than happy to take him on myself. I just thought maybe you’d like some closure. But instead, all you want is sweet, sweet death. If I didn’t have any fucking principles, I’d kill you myself. But for now, I have a terrorist to catch. Enjoy your sleep, you cowardly human!”
He could have stayed in bed all night and sank into his mattress like quicksand if it wasn’t for this painful and heavy sensation in his bladder. He opened his eyes halfway and slurred his words when he said, “Goddamn it.” The minute he left his hazy cloudland, the numbed out feeling returned to his brain. Wearing little more than a T-shirt and athletic shorts, Daniel eased his way out of bed and bumped into every wall, corner, and piece of furniture on his way to the bathroom, only giving a minimal, “Ow!” every time.
Releasing his waterfall of urine into the toilet was the only thing more pleasurable than having a dreamless sleep. With the halogen lights burning his eyeballs and forcing them open, Daniel leaned his head backwards as the last of his fluids emptied into the foamy toilet. He didn’t even bother flushing or washing his hands. He stumbled right to the sink and splashed cold water in his face, as if that would actually ease the never-ending ache in his mind.
Looking into the mirror and seeing an elf woman standing behind him sent a jolt throughout Daniel’s body and caused him to scream as he turned around. His breathing was heavy and raspy, like a shot of adrenaline had just pierced his heart Pulp Fiction-style. “This better be a fucking dream,” Daniel struggled to say. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you Dungeons & Dragons motherfuckers ever again!”
Compared to the elf terrorist at the concert, this woman was a breath of fresh air, though still an elf and still worthy of xenophobia, in Daniel’s mind. Her long black hair, pale green skin, and plump cherry lips gave her the appearance of a sex goddess. Her studded leather armor fit around her like a one-piece bathing suit. Her furry brown boots kept the longest knife tucked away in the most obvious spot, keeping away anybody thinking of screwing with her.
Her arms were folded against her chest and her quarter-smile accented her sarcasm as she shook her head at the pathetic-looking Daniel Mercer. “You share the stage with people from all walks of life and you still have enough hatred in your heart to disparage an entire race of people. That’s okay, though. I understand people of your world aren’t quite used to seeing my race just yet. Up until Roger Zee invaded your concert, we’ve done a fairly good job of keeping quiet among the masses.”
Daniel wheezed and laughed as he held the edges of the sink to keep from falling over. “His name is Roger Zee? Wow. Holy shit! If he wasn’t so good with a machete, nobody would be afraid of this fucking clown. It’s like my man George Carlin once said: there would have never been a World War II if Hitler’s first name was Floyd. They would have beaten the shit out of him in Munich in 1931.”
“Mockery aside, that’s exactly what I came here talk to you about: Roger Zee. I didn’t want to knock on your door, because my race is still trying to keep quiet about its existence. But I hear the whispers. I see the television screens. The racism and xenophobia of your pundits is astounding,” said the elf woman.
“Welcome to America, babe,” said Daniel in a disturbingly nonchalant way. “I don’t like the bigotry either, but it doesn’t really matter what I think anymore. I’m just one guy. I used to have three other guys with me, but they’re all fucking dead and my vote didn’t matter anyways because the system sucks. I’m forty years old and I can safely say that after what happened at the concert, nothing shocks me anymore.”
The elf woman placed her soft hands on Daniel’s shoulders and said in a low voice, “I can see you’ve gone through a lot over the past few days. We all have. But instead of coming together and living as one, all I see from your people is hatred and division. They don’t know what to do about Roger and his rampage. But I do. I know exactly what it takes to bring him down. But I can’t do it without your help.”
Daniel gave the elf woman a raised eyebrow of confusion before pushing her hands off of his shoulders. “You know the dark fantasy shit is just a gimmick, right? We didn’t actually do any weird ass rituals backstage during a Demon Axe show. It’s a motivational tactic. I’m not a warrior by any stretch of the imagination. I’ve been in a few barroom brawls, but nothing beyond that. Fighting a bunch of drunken losers isn’t going to prepare me for a madman with a goddamn machete. Sorry, lady, but you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
The former Lord of the Pit tried to walk away, but felt his hand being tugged on by the elf warrior’s silky grip. This would have been lovely to him if he wasn’t trying to get a good night’s sleep and forget all of this “happy horseshit”. The elf said, “If you don’t want to fight alongside me, then at least agree to get out of this place for your own safety. Roger isn’t done with you. You played what he calls ‘sinful music’ on holy grounds. As a zealot, he’s not going to forgive you that easily.”
Daniel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before saying, “You know what, lady? If this Roger Ball Z guy wants to slash me open, I’m not entirely against it. I’ve been having traumatic nightmares left and right and getting my head cut off might be the best thing for me right now. I’m done with life. If I can’t play badass fucking music with my friends, then I don’t want to live anymore. Fuck it, I’m done.”
The rock star jerked his hand away from the woman’s grip and trudged slowly on his way back to his bedroom. “So that’s it, huh?” the elf said. “You’re just going to let Roger win that easily?” Daniel stopped and listened. “I thought your race didn’t negotiate with terrorists. I thought you were all about truth, justice, and the American way. I thought you people shot off pyrotechnics every year to celebrate your patriotism. Are you telling me that you’re all out of firepower?”
Daniel shot the elf woman an insidious glare before marching back to her with fists clenched and feet pounding. “You know what?” he shouted while pointing his index finger at her. “You’re absolutely right! You’re one hundred percent on the dot! I should be like those assholes out there who like to play army and form my own fucking militia! I should go to a gun show and buy every bazooka, every AK-47, every Sherman Tank that they’ve got and blast that motherfucking elf right out of the ground! And then I’ll stand on top of his corpse with an American flag in one hand and a greasy ass cheeseburger in the other! And then we’ll all gather in a circle and chant ‘USA! USA! USA! USA!’.”
The moment of rage turned so awkwardly quiet that the heavy breathing between Daniel and the elf could be heard from a mile away. The former Lord of the Pit continued his tirade with, “That shit may be acceptable in Arnold Schwarzenegger movies, but in the real world, this shit hurts so badly that we feel it forever. The good guys sometimes lose. The police are not always on your side. The politicians don’t give a shit about anybody but themselves. As long as this country is occupied by selfish ignorant people, nobody can do a goddamn thing about Roger fucking Zee!”
The elf woman’s expression changed from brave cheerleading to vulgar disgust. She shook her head and said, “You’re right. Demon Axe is just a gimmick. You’re no different from any other musician who sings about being tough and mighty in the face of danger. What was I thinking coming here? That battleaxe microphone you used is nothing more than a toy. I’m sorry your band mates were led to believe that the whole gimmick was just a lie. It was a little white lie that cost them their lives. And now you don’t want to put in any work to avenge their souls. Good day to you, Lord of the Pit!”
She stomped her way to the front door when Daniel stopped her by shouting, “Who in the hell do you think you are talking to me like that?! You don’t know me! You’re just a fan girl who probably downloaded my band’s albums for free! Hell, you’re worse than that! You’re a groupie!” The elf woman stopped at that insult and turned around to stare daggers into her assailant. “That’s right! You’re a groupie who rides every dick to the top of the mountain! Oh, did I touch a nerve? Is that not who you are? Well, then answer my fucking question, you crazy bitch! Who in the hell do you think you are?!”
The woman marched up to Daniel and slapped him across the face with a shot so stiff that it knocked him on his back. The rock star clutched his stinging, burning cheek with both calloused hands while the elf pointed at him and said in a menacing voice, “I’ll tell you who I am. My name is Raven Triscloud. I am the daughter of King Arthur Triscloud and the only reason my people will know any kind of salvation. If you won’t help me take down a nationalistic zealot like Roger Zee, then I’ll be more than happy to take him on myself. I just thought maybe you’d like some closure. But instead, all you want is sweet, sweet death. If I didn’t have any fucking principles, I’d kill you myself. But for now, I have a terrorist to catch. Enjoy your sleep, you cowardly human!”
