Thursday, November 26, 2009

Happy Thanksgiving!

Now hear this Thanksgiving prayer by William Burroughs:

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Interview me!

That's right! Ask me questions, stupid or relevent! All are welcome! Why do I want to move to Holland? Why did I start this stupid blog? Just ask me somethin' in the comments section! Go on!

Monday, November 9, 2009

Videos of artists

Painters, cartoonists, etc. become so associated with their work that when people see their stuff, they often have preconceived images in their heads of how the artist looks and sounds and behaves. They're often surprised when and if they see and hear the artist, because almost always the contrived image is completely different from the actual person. There's just something about videos of artist that I like.

Jim Woodring:

One of the Youtube commentors sez Jim Woodring sounds like "a sage". I don't know what that means, but OK.

Robert Crumb:

I can scarcely think of things more entertaining than the great Crumb being interviewed by sleazy old Al Goldstein (above).

Harvey Kurtzman and Jack Davis:

Stan Lee gets on my nerves and Harvey's Parkinson's-disease-stricken voice saddens me, but the video is very interesting.

Hans Rickheit:

My newest fave, the regretfully underrated Hans Rickheit. I love his work.

Tony Millionaire in a video where he plays God!:

Mike Diana and Susie Morbid:

Infamous cartoonist and girlfriend.

A video by Makemebad35 that has nothing to do with cartoonists! HOOHAH!!

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Long-Ass post: The Best of Creative Garbage Dump

Kurdt said he'd make a book of some of the stories/poems he's done on his blog, and here are my favorite stories/poems from it:


POEM #1:

The wind blows cold around my head
A million thoughts: the floating dead
So soon they form
So soon they fly
My creative mind
Is starting to die
No talent have I
For stories or rhyme
Just formless ideas that fill my mind
Hurting hurting my poor brain
Driving me crazy
Making me insane
I wish I wish
I had the drive
To make these things come to life
To tell the world of doubt and pain
Love and death
Of sun and rain
To make them smile
And make them cry
Make them happy to be alive
But now all they do is quickly die:
These formless thoughts that run through my brain
That die and float off
Never to be heard again.


In the dark
In the dark
It is lonely in the dark
I am scared I am blind
I am small
There's things that move around
That slither on the ground
But I can't see anything at all

In the dark
In the dark
I am lonely in the dark
As I lay with my back to the wall
I wasn't scared of night
Till I lost the coming light
But there's worse to fear after all

In the dark
In the dark
There are things here in the dark
That slither hiss and bark
In the dark
In the dark
In the dark

I can see
I can see
The things they don't scare me
They are my friends
I pet them
I will name them one two three:
Sally is a doll with claws to climb the walls
Teddy is a bear with needles instead of hair
His teeth are metal sharp
And when he talks he barks
Serpy is a snake who doesn't talk an ounce
But I like him best, he shoots poison from his mouth

There's the light
There's the light
The door it opens bright
Bringing food is the one
Who put me here
I will show her my new friends
And then we will play again
She will stay with me then
Forever in the dark
In the dark
In the dark
In the dark


Pure bile
Building to the breaking point
In my sleep deprived body
You make me sick
With your inconsiderateness
Your lack of tact
The very fact that you're alive
I wish you had never been born
Go jump off a cliff you wastes of sperm
And let me sleep


Dead beat husband sits at home
Drinking beer all alone
Falls asleep with the TV on
Up behind him sneaks his hon
Tired old housewife lifts her ax
And gives his noggin 20 whacks
Into the backyard his body goes
Under the bushes of thorny rose
When work is done blood is gone
Down to watch TV sits hon
Doesn't hear the doorknob's creaks
Till she hears a voice that speaks
"Lovey hon, I've had a hard day
'How about a kiss', why don't ya say?"
The screams ring through the suburban air
The neighbors rush in to find her there
Sitting all alone in hubby's chair
Eyes wide open
But oh so dead
A single rose shoved through her head.


Mary Lou wanted to fly
Whattya know
I guess she died
Went down to Hell
Where all the bad people fry
Oh...and the demons cry:

Bullet Head Boy use your head
Do it now before she's dead
One more time she's in her prime
Use your bullet head one last time

Bullet Head boy wanted Mary Lou
Whattya know
I guess he's screwed
Went to the churchyard for somethin' to do
Dug up her body from six feet deep
Lay down beside her and went to sleep
Oh...and the demons scream:

Bullet Head Boy use your head
You can't do it now
She's stone cold dead
Like vinegar wine
It's past your time
And your bullet head is past it's prime
Oh...and the demon's cry:

Can't you see, it's all a dream
She's coming apart at the seams...


I've got my plastic tree
I nailed it to the wall
I wanted to talk to you
But you wouldn't return my calls
This house is cold
And I'm alone
Thought that maybe you could help
Merry Christmas to myself

I'll sing songs
Cause the quiet makes me sad
I'll drink more
Till I don't feel so bad
I pushed everyone away
So tonights the night I pay
I need help
Merry Christmas to myself

No presents for me
Underneath my tree
I don't care for anyone
And no one cares for me
That doesn't mean that
I don't feel bad
This is the worst year that I've ever had
And I'll drink till I pass out
Merry Christmas to myself

And I knew it all along
That you weren't coming home
The day that you stormed out
And left me here alone
So I'll stand beneath the mistletoe
And drink till I pass out
Merry Christmas to myself
Merry Christmas to myself


The farmers wife was away for the week:
Who's my bitch? said the farmer
Not I says the little piggy
I've got my own problems to take care of
So fuck off and let me be
Who's my bitch? said the farmer
Not I says the cow
But my tits could use a tug
Go ask the dog
Who's my bitch? said the farmer
Not I said the dog
I've got worms and my ass itches
I've got to go eat grass and puke all over your floor
Go ask the cat
Who's my bitch? said the farmer
Not I said the cat
I'm not big enough for you to take
Go ask the pig
Who's my bitch? said the farmer
Not I said the pig
The cats a fucking liar
You're all fucking liars!
Please let me be!
Then the farmer raped the pig

The moral of the story: Sometimes the farmer rapes you even if you're a dirty pig.


I got drunk
And I fell down
Smacked my head on frozen ground
I opened my eyes
And what did I see?
A blue fuzzy Fizzlelump
Staring back at me
He smiled and his doober bobbed
I sat up and he gave me a hug
Then we ran and laughed and played
In the magical land of Greedelay
We ran up the hills of Frugalbree
And said hello to its purple polka dotted bees
In the court of Calay I met the king
And kissed the princess on a swing
Then I saved her from a horrible scaly Grue
That had taken her to make a stew
I punched him hard in his evil eye
And he flew away into the sky
Then we all swam awhile in the lake of Glast
When a hand came down and grabbed me fast
It pulled me up and I waved goodbye
My poor little princess started to cry
The Fizzlelump hugged her tight
As my vision faded to night
I awoke in my hospital bed
With a pounding hammer in my head
I cried alone for my friends so far away
In the magical land of Greedelay


(As I walk through the valley
Of the shadow
I will fear no evil
For thy rod and thy staff
They comfort me...)

Went to sleep one night
But I didn't pray
Had a poundin' in my head
That wouldn't go away
Woke up to the moon
Bout half past ten
I could see by its light
That my brother was dead

(And God shall wipe the tears from their eyes...)

The very next day
We lay him down
In great big hole
Bout six feet down
We closed our eyes
And all said a prayer
And put a cross on his head
So he would stay there

(...And there shall be no more death.)

The very next night
I awoke with a start
Couldn't hear nothin'
But my beatin' heart
When my eyes got right
And I could see
There was my brother standin' over me

(Thy rod and thy staff)
(Comfort me)
(No more death)

I wanted to speak
But I didn't dare
There were bugs in his eyes
And worms in his hair
I didn't know what I should do
So I just closed my eyes
And sang them unnatural blues

(Nobody knows the trouble I've been through,
nobody Knows but Jesus...)


I got so bored at work today that I regressed back to grade school. I pretended the stapler and the stapler puller on my desk were dinosaurs locked in a fight to the death (the stapler won), I started making spit balls to shoot at co-workers, and I had this strange desire for non-alcoholic juice and crackers. Oh, and I wrote these poems.

Teacher teacher is a troll
Her breath smells like a toilet bowl
Put a tack upon her chair
And watch her wet her underwear!

Daddy Daddy Bought new shoes
I gave them to the dog to chew
Daddy got so mad he spit
And took poor puppy to the vet
Vetty's scissors went snip snip snip
And cut off our poor doggy's...tail.

Timmy Timmy did a dance
Fell on the ground and pooped his pants
Asked the teacher for new clothes
And teacher punched him in the nose!

I snapped out of my temporary regression when I got yelled at for trying to take a nap on the floor at noon. Too bad, I wanted to go around pulling girl's hair to see if they liked me. I think that lands you in jail if you're an adult though...


Shootin' at birds on the telephone wires
Nothin' wrong with my head
Breakin' stuff and settin' it on fire
Nothin' wrong with my head

I spit right in teacher's face
He called me a damn disgrace
I'm not bad I'm just misunderstood
If I'd been raised better
Than I'd be good
There's nothin' wrong with my head

Put some sugar in Mommy's gas tank
Nothin' wrong with my head
Left some meat in the sun until it stank
Nothin' wrong with my head
Gave it to the dog to eat
Then he puked all over our car's front seat
Nothin' wrong with my head

Mommy took me to see a shrink
She asked him, please what did he think?
I punched him right in his stupid face
Then I Kicked and screamed all over the place
The doctor says it's not my fault
It's ADD thats it, thats all
There's Nothin' wrong with my head

I burned down the grocery store
Nothin' wrong with my head
Now I don't have to go there no more
Nothin' wrong with my head
I can't go to jail
Cause I'm too young
Might as well have lots of fun
Nothin' wrong with my
Nothin' wrong with my
Nothin' wrong with my head


Will you be my Yoko?
I can be your John
We'll have our own bed-in
We'll have so much fun
Eating chocolate cake
In our bags till dawn
Will you be my Yoko?
And can I be your John?

Will you be my Yoko?
Can I be your walrus too?
I will write you pretty songs
Just because I love you
and I will stay right by your side
When your baby is due
If you will be my Yoko
Then I will be your walrus too

Will you be my Yoko?
And can I be your John?
You'll be my inspiration
When the rest of The Beatles are gone
I won't care what those fools will say
Because our love will still be true...
And I will sing you pretty songs
Just because I love you
If you will be my Yoko,
Then I will love you true.


Come one
come all
We'll all have so much fun
I can sing
I can juggle
I can dance
I can play all the current popular songs
On my ukulele
And my bike horn
I'll wear funny pants
I'll do anything to make you laugh
I'll hit my head
I'll fall down
I'll cut all my veins wide open
Here's my blood
Just for you
Aren't we having such a good time?
I'll tell jokes
I'll throw pies
If you don't laugh then I'll die
And I'll take you all with me
Here's a balloon
Just for you
It looks just like my ex-wife
Laugh goddamn you laugh!
Watch me dance
And piss my pants
I'll do anything to make you laugh
I'll do anything to make you laugh
Please laugh
Or I swear I'll kill your dog
And by the way
Happy birthday
It's such a special day for you
Here's your cake
Isn't it great?
I wish it was my birthday
All I got when I was a kid
Was a kick in the ass
Now lets all dance
To this tune
I wrote it about killing small animals
No you can't leave
What did I just say?
One more step and I'll blow you away
And that would ruin
Timmy's special day
Lets all thank him
For inviting you
To his very special party
And for hiring
Binky the happy dancing clown.


The car hit the railing
And flew into the air
He knew he was going to die
But he really didn't care
Suspended for a moment
Before the impact came
The last lonely thought
That wandered through his brain
Was not of life or death or pain
But of the sound it would make
When his all his bones started to break
And his brain smashed into paste

He marveled at the peculiar sound
Right before he hit the ground
What a symphony for me, he thought
Right here at the end
A record that I wish I'd bought
And could show to all my friends
This is how I died I'd say
Turn the volume up a little ways
And you can hear my last breath blow
When the car stops in the snow

Then the twisted metal choir
Kept harmony with the roaring fire
The grim conductor extended a bony hand
To the back part of the band
A counterpoint they struck
Composed of snaps, crackles and pops
Then the symphony was done
But an audience there was none
The only one to see the show
Was silent in the melting snow
His admission might have been free
But it sure had lousy seats


Once upon a time we were falling in love
Remember when we kissed in the dark?
Then you tore at my face
And you tried to rip out my heart

Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and go back to where you were born
I look at the parts on the garage floor
And I wonder where it all went wrong
Then I turnaround
And every now and I then I see you standing behind me
And I really can't help but smile
It was violent in the end
But I need you my friend
And I don't have enough parts to build you again

And every now and then you fell apart
And I put you back together
And didn't know you couldn't go out in wet weather
But I thought you'd love me forever
And we always made it right
Cause we were made for each other
I didn't know what to do so I sat in the dark
You looked like a powder keg giving off sparks
That really wasn't a good night
The end was the beginning that night
The end was the beginning that night

Once upon a time you were built out of love
And then I had to rip you apart
And there's nothing I can say
You tried to rip out my heart
And there's nothing I can say
I had to tear you apart


Am I a king in a castle up high
Who sits in his throne room and weeps?
When his enemies are coming to cut off his head
A horror he's known about for weeks?
Am I a clown in a large circus show
Or a madman, a furry, a freak?
Or a thing with six arms
Come to rip you apart
Do I have the answers you seek?

I am everything
I am nothing
Just a speck of dust
On a beach large and grand
I am the waves that wash over your feet
As you slowly sink into the sand
I am Adam with apple in hand
As I give it to Eve to eat
I am your god
Your serpent
Your friend
Get on your knees
And bow down to me

I am Hitler in a bunker
With Eva when the bombs are dropped
Will you take that pill?
I know that you will
I've already killed off the dogs
I am Jack on a cold foggy night
My knife it fits well in my grip
A girl a girl a girl
I must find
To cut open from top to rind
To see what neat things there are inside

I am everything
I am nothing
The wind that tears at your clothes
And when you finally reach
The answers you seek
When you finally know who I am
I'll be there to remind you
That I'm really inside you
I am them
I am you
I am me
I am their beginnings
And their ends
That voice in your ear
That you can't help but hear
All the evil that is done
Is by my hand
For I am man


Imagine this being sung by a cheesy early 90s soul balladeer

(Piano intro)
Baby, I love you
You know that I do
But the world is pulling us apart
And there's not much I can do
Just yesterday the sun exploded
And everybody died
But we're super robots
So we both survived
But the atmosphere is gone
And with no gravity
Its hard for me to hold on
Oh, I'll meet you
On the south side of the moon

(Electric guitars kick in)
On the south side of the moon
I will be there soon
Just as soon as my rocket boosters
Repair themselves
I'll be right next to you
(Female background vocals: Oooh oooh ooh)
Baby I know
That it's cold
And the galaxy is spiraling out of control
So just hold
Just hold
Oh baby baby just hold on to me
And we'll make robot love
While the black hole sucks us in
into infinity

(Back to just tinkly piano)
Oh baby baby baby
I'll be with you....
As soon as I can find my legs
And my arms
And the the other half of my torso
I'll meet you...
On the south side of the moon


I put on my helmet
And elbow pads
And reflective vest
And puffy pants
To protect my nads
And my nifty spiffy fencing mask
I put on 20 sweaters
And 15 pairs of socks
Then I took my morning stroll
Around the neighborhood block
All the people stopped and talked
And laughed and pointed
And sneered and mocked
The men flicked boogers
And the kids threw rocks
And on and on and on I walked...
When the whole town hates you the worst
It's always always safety first!


I live in a castle
Where it's cloudy everyday
I'm fighting off vampires
All alone but it's okay
Someday when they're all dead
I'll find a way to revive my wife
And this robot with scissors for hands
Helps me through the night
We sit and talk till the sun comes up
About the best way to cook eggs
And about the time I was on TV
And threw one in Batman's face
Or the time I was a giant rat
And almost killed Sherlock Holmes
Or the evening I met Frankenstein
And had a chat with Edgar Allen Poe
But this house of wax is melting now
So I lay me down for good
And dream that I'm a tiny fly
In a theater of blood


There once was a man named Rick
Who had huge bumps on his dick
They were of such a size
The men averted their eyes
But the ladies ran to him quick!


Dylan wrote of Heaven's door
Zeppelin wrote of it's stairs
But the best bands have said
It's more fun to be dead
When all of your friends are there


I feel sick
But thats normal
But I wish there was a portal
That I could use to escape these pricks
That walk down the hall swinging their dicks around
But it's okay because I'm fine
Sitting locked up in my mind
And I can drift away
And I know that someday
I'll be living on my platform
In a solar dome in space
I'll feel better when I can escape
This dirt called the human race


There was a little ship
That sailed on the sea
And the name of the ship
Was the Digereedee
It had a silly name
Which bothered the captain none
He was a hard drinking
Fiddle playin'
Crazy son of a gun

Fiddle iddle diddle eh
Fiddle iddle diddle do
And it's one for the crickets
And here we go

They sailed away
One bright spring morn
To look for land
Beyond the horn
The crew they danced
As the town slipped away
Saying to their loves
"We'll return someday."

Fiddle iddle diddle eh
Fiddle iddle diddle do
And it's one for the crickets
And here we go

The days they past
From months into years
With no sign of the ship
On the horizon to appear
It was ten years gone
When the butcher's wife spied
The skipper on the sand
Who was barley alive

Fiddle iddle diddle eh
Fiddle iddle diddle do
And it's one for the crickets
And here we go

The people gathered round
To hear the skipper speak
He talked all day
He talked all week
And the story he told
Was full of pain and fear
And it's much too long
To put down here

Fiddle iddle diddle eh
Fiddle iddle diddle do
And it's one for the crickets
And here we go

The skipper he married
A bow legged lass
With curlers in her hair
And tattoos on her ass
Oh, the ship was forgotten
Except for this song
That We sing every night
To the wives and the dogs

Fiddle iddle diddle eh
Fiddle iddle diddle do
And it's one for the crickets
And here we go

Fiddle iddle diddle eh
Fiddle iddle diddle do
And it's one for the crickets
And here we go....


Oh tell me son what do you want to be?
You're a man now son
You can do anything
With your mighty iron fists
You'll bend the world to your will
So trek forth now
And have your fill

Oh my daughter, take yourself from me
You're a woman now
As you can plainly see
So go find a man
To keep you safe from harm
The world is cold
But the kitchen is warm

Oh my wife, please dry your eyes
There's laundry to do
Tis no surprise
Those dishes in the sink
Ain't goin' to wash themselves
Don't make me angry
Or I'll make your life Hell

Oh my word, the night is coming down
It's time for me
To go out on the town
And drink up rounds
Till the sun comes back around
And not have to worry about the days
When I'll be buried underground.


You're floating
Actually You're not sure if you're floating
All there is around you is featureless white void
There is no up or down, left or right
This frightens you immensely
So you create a spot of ground to stand on
Just a small spot to rest your feet
But there's still the void surrounding you
So you create a lot more land
Till you can't see it anymore
The only problem is
That no matter how far you walk
You always hit that void
So you surround your spot of land with water
And create a sky
And a sun
And clouds
You find that you can decorate this island
However you want
And can make it night or day
And control the weather
You make a thick jungle
With a house in the middle
A large mansion
That you were never able to afford when you were alive
And you create a mountain
To climb up
And jump off of
You can break every bone in your body
And not feel pain
And you heal up quickly
And you're good as new again
One day after creating your own little world
You sit on a rock over looking your ocean
Smoking cigars
You never would have bothered with when you were alive
And you
Just what is the meaning of death?


One day as I was walking
Down by the sea
A girl with eyes of brown
Came up and said to me
How'd you like to walk with me?
And talk a bit of a while?
How'd you like to come home with me?
And get drunk in real style?

So I says to the pretty young lass
Last night I got drunk off me ass
I threw up all in my bed
And woke up with a poundin' in my head
So I don't feel like partakin' of the ale today
So unless you want to get frisky
You can just go on your way

Says the lass to me
You're not a man
A real man passes out
Gets up
And does it all again
You can't take your liquor I am sure
So I'll bother you no more

Says I says I to the pretty fair maid
No more drinking will I do today
Unless you want me to throw up me bits
Just then the lassy showed me her tits
Says I, I guess just a pint will do
A half hour later and I'm pleasantly screwed

Oh cursed be the women, the devil to them
For they know what they can do to us men
Just a flash of breast
And we're doomed to Heck
With three children
A mortgage
And a rope round our necks


You said “lets go out, there’s a party on tonight
We’ll get you drunk and get you laid
And we’ll come home when it’s light.”
I had nothing better to do
So I climbed into your truck
Even though I never had much luck
With all that socializing stuff

As soon as we walked in the door
You shoved a beer at me
I drank one down and looked around
At the hip happening scene
Nobody was wasted yet
So it was all a bore
I contemplated running out
The apartment’s white front door

But there was food out on the table
They were cooking it on the porch
It didn’t sit
But I ate a bit
And then I drank some more
After the food was gone
The music came on
And everyone got up to dance
But I don’t give a rip
For that hip hop shit
So on the couch I did sit
And watched the drunks all lurch

Now the girl’s were wearing skirts
That were well above the knee
But I was drunk
So I couldn’t get it up
And it didn’t bother me
But then one sat upon my lap
And kissed me on the head
Goddamn the alcohol I thought
I might as well go to bed

At 11 o clock
The party stopped
When the neighbors did complain
“Let’s go to the club
And have more fun.”
Someone did exclaim
So everybody left the place
And they pulled me along
I missed my bed
But they all said
“You’re too drunk to walk home.”

As we walked along
I sang a song
To no one but myself
And mused upon the dirty streets
This garbage filthy Hell
When Lee took a swing
At a man named King
I was done with the whole damn thing
And I wandered off by myself

And no one ran after me
And no one said goodbye
And pretty soon I was lost
But not a care had I
I walked along and sang my songs
And mused upon the night
And pretty soon I found my bed
And slept till afternoon light

So what’s the moral of this thing
This poetaster’s tale of woe?
I have no answers for you there
I really do not know
But there’s one thing I am sure of
And you’ll probably think it queer:
I loves me jolly solitude
As much as I loves me beer.


I can't remember where I put you
Was it over by the TV in the living room?
Or did I brick you up in the basement?
Behind the plaster in the bedroom maybe?
I get so mixed up sometimes
But I really don't want to go through
All the trouble of tearing my house apart
To find you
I was thinking of you today though
I was remembering your smell
The light perfume that followed you around
The way your blonde hair fell over your shoulders
The way your breasts moved when you breathed
You said you were going to leave
How could you leave?
I loved you
I needed you
Without you I would have been broken
Every cell would have withered away and died
So I found a way to keep you here
You didn't talk much anymore
But you were always in the mood
And I could study your pretty face
Whenever I wanted
It was bliss just having you around
But then people starting poking their heads around
Your sister
Your mom
The police
I had to hide you
And now I miss your hair
And your smell
And your breasts
And I can't find you
But I've got this knife
And the night is dark
But not too hot
Lots of people will be out tonight
Pretty girls
I'll find a substitute
Till I can find you again
Please don't be jelous
Honey Bunch
Sweetie Pie
If you weren't hiding so well
I wouldn't have to do this
Just come out and play
And we can watch TV
You like Family Matters right?
Didn't Urkel make you laugh?
Well, my TVs broken anyways
My knife and I have a date
In the park...


Take a tour around the schoolroom floors
Rub shoulders with the jocks and the whores
Pretty twiggy has my heart on wires
Pull the strings and you can set it on fire
I don't want her cause she makes me sick
But in my dreams I always come to her quick
Pretty twiggy paints her nails with red
And horrid thoughts course through my head
Her caress it burns me like fire
Given power by the father of liars

Jesus says that lust is wrong
But these feelings are much too strong
I took her home and I laid her down
Five feet into the cold hard ground
In the night I could hear her screams
In the darkness of my deepest dreams
Hands clawing at the splinters and wood
Fists pounding it will do her no good
Now she's quiet and I sin no more
Now they'll let me in St. Peter's door

Take a tour of the schoolroom halls
Blood dripping from the ceilings and walls
All the jocks are nailed up through their eyes
And all the whores are in the ovens to fry
I know now I can't escape from my sin
Jesus said he won't let this end
Jesus says I've been a real bad boy
Jesus said I won't get any toys
Except for twiggy with her nails torn to shreds
Dirty hair matted to her head
I've got her now
She's forever mine
Her cold embrace for all of time


I took a walk in the woods
The sun was shining bright
All the birds were singing
Cause freedom is their right
I climbed a mountain
And I tried to touch the sun
Then I ran around and screamed awhile
Naked just for fun

Oh in nature
In nature I am free
I can roll around in whatever I want
And pee where I want to pee
In nature, in nature I am free

Oh that Rocky Mountain feeling
It makes me feel so high
When I'm in the cities
I just want to die
When I'm all by myself
I can really breath
I can touch myself
And all the squirrels
And no one bothers me
In nature, in nature I am free

Oh in nature
In nature I am free
I can roll around in whatever I want
And pee where I want to pee
In nature, in nature I am free

So come on fill up my senses
Like night in the woods
And cut myself with sharpened sticks
It makes me feel so good
To sunshine on my shoulders
I can never say goodbye
Because just like acid on my face
It always makes me cry

Oh in nature
In nature I am free
I can roll around in whatever I want
And pee where I want to pee
In nature, in nature I am free
La la la la la la la la la...


Oh I've got those
Sleepy headed blues
When I close my eyes I see your face
And it hurts me deep inside
I want you open wide
But you're closed off by holy grace
I want you tied to the alter
Or spread out on the pew
You don't need no holy book
To tell you what to do
I want you bad
Bad bad bad
I want you bad

Now I know deep inside
That there's something you try and hide
And your goodness is only just for show
So take me as I am
And let me be a man
And tell me all the dirty things
That I know that you know
I want you bad
Bad bad bad
I want you bad

If I have to walk on water
To have a chance with you
Honey I'll do anything
That you want me to
I'll turn your water into wine
I'll multiply your bread
I'll die for you and rise again
If you'll just let me in your bed
I want you bad
Bad bad bad
I want you bad

I've got those sleepy headed blues
And this heat won't let me sleep
You're all I've been thinking of
For weeks and weeks and weeks
I know that lust is a sin
But my soul cries for release
How bout you be my sacrifice
And I sink my knife in deep?
I want you bad
Bad bad bad bad bad
Oh baby I want you bad


Old alleyway drunk
Coughs up blood on the ground
Death is imminent

So good a website
New comic everyday
Hooray for Dumm Comics!

So bad a writer
Preteen girls go nuts
But vampires do not sparkle

Cranky old woman
Screams at girl behind counter
Smells of old stale piss

Computer won't work
Keeps freezing up constantly
I need a strong drink

Frank Black's howling screams
Against Kim Deal's angel's voice
Pixies are divine


All year round I sail upon the seas
You've never met a pirate quite like me
I wear my high heels out on the deck
And frilly lace around my neck
I may be a man
But I choose not to be
You've never met a pirate quite like me

I love to hear the roar of guns
But hate when my mascara runs
I'll fight for my ship until I break a nail
My vessel's a beaut as you can see
Sailing the waves so wild and free
And it's the only one with a pink embroidered sail!

So give a heave and a ho and a yarr!
As we sail the seas both near and far
I'm the meanest rat that ever you will meet
And I do it all while wearing pink panties!
You've never met a pirate quite like me!


Oh my dearest I wuv you
I wuv you so much it huwts my heawt
To not be neaw your beauty youw wight
pains my vewy sowl
My deaw won't you mawwy me?



"President Joe once had a dream
The world held his hand, gave their pledge
So he told them his scheme for a Saviour Machine

They called it the Prayer, its answer was law
Its logic stopped war, gave them food
How they adored till it cried in its boredom

'Please don't believe in me, please disagree with me
Life is too easy, a plague seems quite feasible now
or maybe a war, or I may kill you all'"
David Bowie - Saviour Machine

Chapter 1 - Gathering
Part 1 - Elegant Eddy dances with the fearsome three

Eddy pulled on his cigarette till there was nothing left and then threw it in the gutter. Then he stood, his cheap trench coat billowing around him, almost as if he was eying the city up. His super sensitive sense of smell picked up the almost overpowering stench of garbage and dirt that normals could pick up as well as the underlying odor of decay and rot that the they usually couldn't. His ears could pick up sounds from many miles around: gunshots, screams, barking stray dogs, and many many cars. His hawk-eyes took in the old dilapidated buildings, rusty street signs, and piles of filth. He smiled slightly and marveled at how little had changed since the time he had left for clean air and quiet countryside, back when he was only twelve years old. The buildings were a little more decayed but their residents were still pretty much the same. It was almost nightfall and the people who actually worked during the day hurried to get locked into their apartments before the sun completely set and the scum of the night took over. They hurried past him and their tired strained eyes didn't even see him. One by one he heard their doors slam and the locks snap shut. Not that they would really keep anyone out, but if it helped them sleep better at night...
Eddy sighed and walked down to the corner of fifth street. He pulled out another cigarette and lit it as he turned onto Smut Avenue.

Smut avenue was just what it sounded like. That wasn't really it's name, but it had been called that for so long that no one really cared what its name really was. For miles and miles along the street filthy adult video stores, porno theaters, and peep shows set up shop. There were also hookers here, lots of them. There were hookers everywhere in the city but Smut ave. was where you went when you were desperate. They didn't look very nice but they were cheap and sometimes thats all that mattered, that is if you didn't mind a missing eye or the occasional lost limb. You also had to be careful choosing a girl if you didn't want to end up with one that used to be a man, or one was really was a man after all.
Ed smoked as he walked along the grimy street, the neon lights of the shops making his face glow weird shades of green and red. Some of the girls tired to hustle him a bit, most of them didn't bother. Everyone knew they were here and they didn't have to try very hard to drum up business. He thought it might be nice to spend a night with one of them, it'd been a very long time since he'd had even a little company, but the Oracle had told him where to go and who to look for and he didn't like to think what would happen if he failed or even stopped for a brief moment. He was on a mission from God after all.
He smiled at the pimps lurking in the shadows, the real money making business men of the ave. They practically ran this place and if you messed with any of the girls, your best bet was to get out of the city or wake up one morning missing several organs. Or worse. Not that they were adverse to harsh punishment themselves as one could plainly see by all the bruises and scars visible under the neon lights.

After about a mile of seedy shops and beat up hookers he turned down a side street. He had quite a bit of walking to do yet but he wasn't tired. It took a lot to wear out an immortal. Even before he hit the section of the street where almost all the street lamps were out, he knew someone was following him. Not just one somebody, but two. By the sound of it, two males about mid-twenties, both wearing beat up old sneakers. He threw out his cigarette and kept walking, giving no indication that he heard them at all. Ed also knew that someone was going to jump out of the alleyway before it happened and he stopped short just as someone did. His steely eyes adjusted to the dark and he could see the youth perfectly: long dirty blonde hair, ripped up t-shirt and Glasgow smile along both corners of his mouth. The youth laughed and pulled out a long switchblade.
"I don't have any money, so just let me through, I don't want any trouble." said Ed giving no indication that he knew there were two more people behind him as he heard them sneak up. The youth give a low sort of laugh.
"We don't want your money man, we're out for kicks tonight." The youth said as a pair of arms circled around Eddie's neck. Dirty blonde laughed hysterically and plunged the knife into his stomach, twisting it with a manic sort of glee. Eddie didn't flinch but grabbed the testicles of the youth behind him and squeezed, feeling them pop like a pair of ripe grapes. He felt the arms let go and in one swift motion he grabbed the blade out of his guts and sliced the dirty blonde who fell to his knees, clutching his throat, blood seeping through his fingers. One swift kick from Eddie's beat up army boots and the head was off, rolling down the filthy pavement before running up against a dumpster and stopping. He turned and picked up the boy who had grabbed him, a dirty piece of shit who looked about 18, and very neatly put him out of his misery with a well practiced jab to the brain stem with the switch-blade. The third punk stood watching with his mouth open till Eddie lunged at him and he ran as fast as he could back down the street. Eddie stepped into the weak flickering light of the street lamp and watched the slit in his stomach slowly heal itself up. Bastard kids, he thought, put a fucking hole in my coat. He gave the dirty blonde head a swift kick as he walked past. Just a few more miles, he thought, and I can find the old man and get the Hell out of this cesspool. Although he had to admit, he hadn't had this much for a long time, the smell was starting to get to his head.

Chapter 2:

The Amazing Alice Steals Her First Heart

Alice was lying on the floor, quietly doodling pictures on pieces of scrap paper when a pounding at the door of her room made her jump and scratch a large ugly hole in a cute little puppy she had been drawing.
That was her step dad of course, but his yelling and pounding were so loud she had to put her fingers in her ears and even then she could still hear him. She closed her eyes and tried to shut him out. Surprisingly, she found that when she concentrated hard enough she could turn the volume down to almost nothing. Being twelve years old and never been told that this wasn't something people could normally do, she just smiled and went back to making funny pictures. Suddenly her ears popped hard and the ugly noise came back into sharp focus.
Could he do that?, she thought. As if in answer the door frame gave a hideous squeal and shot out splinters of wood. A sickening feeling grew in her stomach and Alice realized that her mother wasn't home and if the tub of lard did manage to kick down the door, she was in very big trouble. This sickening feeling gave way to panic and she lunged for the small window above her desk.
She got it unlatched and was halfway through when the surprisingly sturdy door finally gave way with a sickening crack and slammed open hard, the knob leaving a hole in the wall behind it. Panic gave way to hysteria now, Alice struggled harder to get through the small window but only succeeded in getting herself stuck fast.
She could hear him breathing behind her as clear as a church bell on a quiet summer afternoon, could even make out the slight wheeze from his smokers lungs. Then she could smell him, his rancid unwashed body reeking of whiskey and stale tobacco. There was another smell there too, one that she had never experienced before. It was sharp as a knife in her nostrils and it scared her more than anything else in her short life ever had.
Then his hands were on her legs and with one quick yank she was over the desk, lying on the floor in front of him. Surprisingly he didn't look mad at all, in fact there was a smile on his fat ugly face. Alice was confused but wary. He laughed and said "Alice, you've been a bad girl and I think you need to be punished but I'm not going to beat you. I've got a much better way. Much more fun for both of us Now just lay back and relax."
Then he grabbed her arms and lay on top of her, pinning her to the floor.
"Get off get off get off!" Alice screamed in a blind panic and tried to squirm out from underneath him.
He sat up and belted her across the face. "Okay, if you want to play rough, we'll play rough little girl." He said through a gritted smile. She could see the tobacco stains on his teeth.
Then he hit her again, bloodying her lip and tore at her clothes, ripping her yellow dress to shreds. He laughed again and in one swift move tore off her panties.
I can't believe this is happening, she thought, oh God please make this stop, please make this stop! She wiggled an arm free and hit out at him with her fist trying meekly to fight him off.
"Little bitch" He said and laughed, "what the fuck are you going to do? You're going to lay there and take your punishment like a good little girl is supposed to."
Then he lay on top her of her again and fumbled with something inside his sweatpants. Then all at once, time slowed almost to a stand still. Alice could see dust particles hanging perfectly still in a shaft of sunlight from the open window. She looked at the face of her stepfather and could count the beads of sweat on his forehead. Then she felt it. It wasn't in yet but it was touching a part of her that no one else should have been allowed to touch. The blind panic and hysteria that had overtaken her gave way to unbridled rage and she pushed him with all her strength.
Alice couldn't believe what she was seeing. Still in slow motion, her fat blubbery disgusting pig of a step dad was flying through the air, still in slow motion. She watched in shock as he hit the far wall and smashed an outline of his body into the cheap plaster, knocking a framed picture onto his head.
Now time really did seem to stop as they both sat looking at each other, expressions of shock writ large on both of their faces. Then his face turned beet red and he ran at her screaming,
Alice stood up quickly, closed her eyes, and swung her fist out to offer some sort of weak resistance. She felt it hit something hard which broke and snapped beneath her fist and then her hand was touching something warm and wet and pulsating. With her eyes still closed, she grabbed at it and pulled.
When she opened her eyes her stepfather was standing in front of her, mouth ajar, staring at the hole in his chest. He looked like he was about to say something but instead he collapsed into the pool of blood already soaking into the cheap shag carpet.
Alice stood and looked at the thing in her hands as it stopped beating. Her last thought right before her mind went was that it wasn't shaped like a heart at all, it wasn't even pink. And then the whole world rang with her screams.
[Apparently Kurdt never finished putting Saviour Machines up on his blog after that.]


I remember it all so well, like it happened yesterday. Maybe it’s because lately I’ve been having nightmares about it, about him. It’s not something you would forget quickly though and I do still have these scars…but I’m getting a head of myself.
I grew up in a small town. We were small town people with small town values and everyone knew everyone else’s business, or thought they did. Everyone had their secrets too though. Ours was hidden away in the cellar. I remember how we’d be sitting down eating dinner, making small talk about how our days went when that noise would come up from down below, that low moaning cry that sent chills up my spine. I would look down at my plate and pretend I didn’t hear it but then Dad would glare at me tell me to go and feed it. Then I would slowly get up, taking as much time as I could and go into the kitchen to get it’s bucket of old potatoes and table scraps. What’s “it” you ask? Well I call it “it” since I don’t think it was quite human. My parents had named it Lawrence but I had nicknamed it sloth.
It didn’t look much like a sloth, in fact it didn’t look much like anything God in his wisdom had created on this earth, but that’s the closest thing I could compare it to. It had this nasty matted white fur and these long sharp claws, like sloths have but it wasn’t slow, in fact it was damn quick. It’s face was this horrible scrunched up mess of scraggly sharp teeth and it’s eyes were this horrible red color. That was the thing I hated the most about it, those damned eyes. It didn’t like the light so we kept it as dark as possible down there, and when I went down to feed it all I could see were its eyes glowing as it moved back and forth, scraping it’s claws on the ground, watching me.
It hated me and I knew that if it ever got loose it would kill me. Dad told me that was nonsense, that the thing was harmless and he would go down with me to pet it. It always played nice when Dad was around, it would innocently sniff at my hand and let me pet its horrible matted fur but when I tried to grab its scrap bucket away it would snarl and snap at me. One I got too close and it swiped my forehead. I had to get 5 stitches. Dad acted like it was my fault, like I had been teasing the horrible thing. I tried to tell him what really happened but Dad never listened to me. He loved Lawrence more than me and I never could understand it. Even after it got loose and…well, I’ll tell you what happened.
I had horrible stomach cramps that night and couldn’t fall asleep at all. I rolled around in bed holding my stomach till almost three am when it finally let up and I started to fall asleep. That’s when I heard it. That horrible scraping sound coming up the stairs. It would go up one stair and stop, like it was listening for something. It was so quiet that I could hear its breath, a slight pant, like a dog. I sat straight up in bed. There wasn’t going to be enough time to turn on a light, I rolled out of bed quick and grabbed a baseball bat that was leaning on the wall. Then I stood and waited and listened as that scraping noise got closer and closer till it was right outside my door.
It was hot that summer and I hadn’t closed the door tight so once it got up the stairs all it had to do was push it open. In my nightmares I can still see those eyes floating in the darkness, those damn red eyes staring right at me. Then it came for me and before I could react it was on top of me, scratching at my body, trying to get at my face. I screamed and above the its awful slobbering breath and throaty snarls I could hear my parents come running. My Dad slammed the door open and flicked on the light, the thing didn’t like light so he was able to pull it off me easily, dragging it back down to the basement.
Crying and in hysterics I yelled at my Mom, “Why don’t we just kill it? It’s horrible and I hate it, why don’t we just kill it?”
My mom just stood in the doorway and looked at me, her 12 year old daughter sitting on the floor covered in white foamy spit and blood and said “because your father loves it that’s why. Now go get cleaned up and get back in bed.” Then she walked off, probably to go smoke a cigarette outside.
I didn’t sleep for three whole nights after that.
I told my Dad that I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t sleep at night, I was scared that he was going to get me. My Dad just smiled and said that he had put a stronger chain in, that he couldn’t break this one. He even said I didn’t have to feed Lawrence anymore. This wasn’t very heartening to me. I had to get rid of the thing and I had to do it soon…
I waited till a few days later when Dad was at work and Mom was at the grocery store , then I grabbed Dad’s 12 gauge shot gun and headed down the dark cellar steps. I think it knew what I was doing, it seemed restless, pacing back and forth and snarling at me. I pointed the gun at its head and it ran at me, hitting the end length of its chain and choking itself. Suddenly I didn’t want to kill it. It didn’t seem fair, it was like shooting a dog in a cage. Then the chain broke and it hit me full force, knocking me to the floor. I was screaming and it my head, I could feel its teeth trying to rip away flesh as its claws tore and scratched. I still had the gun in my had but I couldn’t get in position to fire. That’s when I heard my Dad yell and come running down the stairs.
“Don’t hurt him, Oh God don’t hurt him please!”
Then he came running and he started kicking me in the head. He was kicking me because I was punching it in its ugly face trying to get it off of me. I got my legs up under it and give it a hard push, landing it on its back and giving me time to get the gun back in position before it jumped on me again. It jumped and I pulled the trigger.
I heard Dad scream as the gun went off blowing a large hole in the thing’s midsection, spraying blood and flesh and bits of spinal cord out its backside. Sloth lay on the ground trying to get up, trying to get back at me. Before my Dad could get over to it I had put the gun to its head and pulled the trigger, turning its ugly face into a mass of brain and blood and skull fragments. Then I stood over it, breathing hard, blood running in my eyes.
“I hate you,” I whispered, “I hate you you stupid ugly thing.”
Then I felt a hand on my shoulder turning me around and then someone hit me full on in the face knocking me down. It turned out to be my dad, tears streaming down his face.
“You stupid girl!” he screamed “You stupid small minded girl do you know what you just did? Do you have any idea?”
I yelled back “Yeah, I saved my own life no thanks to you, you and your stupid fucking thing!” It was the first time I had ever cursed at anybody and I didn’t even realize it.
“You stupid girl, you killed your brother! Lawrence was your brother, Oh God!” Then he threw up on the floor.
A week later I went to live with my Aunt out in the country. I asked her why Dad had loved Sloth so much. She said she didn’t know but she thought it might have had something to do with a puppy he had when he was a little boy that had a messed up leg. That didn’t seem like a very satisfactory answer to me.
Oh I remember, I remember alright. Some things you can’t forget no matter how hard you try. And I still have these scars…


Open on title:
Cue scary crashing piano chords that go on way too long till a song kicks in over pictures of the cast all giving goofy smiles and thumbs up. Song cuts off with scare chord and opens on:

Our cast: Matt, Scott, and James are sitting on Matt's porch staring at the sky.
Scott: (Suddenly happy) I've got it you guys! (All look at Scott)
Matt: No Scott we are not going to put on masks to scare people in the old folks home.
James: Yeah, we had to get out of there pretty quickly last time. We should wait awhile before we go back.
Scott: I was going to say we should go throw firecrackers at Matt's dad while he's taking a nap.
Matt: We did that too, thats why we're out here trying to think of stuff to do instead of inside playing video games.
Scott: (thoughtful) Oh yeah. (suddenly bright again) Hey how about we take a bunch of laxatives and see how long we can go before...
Matt: For the fifth time, I am not doing that, ever!
James: I've got an idea for something to do.
Matt: Aren't we the crafty one today.
James: Shut up and listen. You know my Uncle died a few weeks ago right?
Scott: That smelly old guy that used to buy all the pepper from the grocery store every Tuesday and no one could figure out what he did with it?
James: No, that was my Grandfather. My Uncle was the one that wore thongs to the beach and offered mustache rides to old ladies at the flea market.
Matt: Oh, him. Right, go on.
James: Well, he died and we haven't sold his house yet or even cleaned all the stuff out of it. We could go dig through all his junk! There's probably lots of old people crap we could smash or run over with the lawnmower!
Matt: Well, it's better than any of Scott's ideas, lets go. (Everyone gets up and walks off camera.)
Scott: Aw, I wanted to see poop...
End Scene

Open on old house with scare chords telling us to be scared. Pan over to our heroes.
Matt: Yup, that is a house.
Scott: Sure is, did your uncle die inside there James?
James: No, he got his hand stuck in the mailbox and got eaten by a bear.
Matt: Harsh. Lets go.
Cut to inside of house, SJM walking down stairs to basement.
James: I bet theres lots of breakable stuff down here!
Matt: I call dibs on plaster figurines!
All rooting around in basement junk.
Scott: Man, there's nothing good here. Let's go downtown and shoot water balloons at cars on the highway.
James: We did that last week, we almost got beat up, remember?
Scott: Oh yeah..
Matt: Holy crap, guys come look at this!
He moves some junk aside and we see a girl lying on the floor, her face is covered in blood. She is very dead looking. There is a book in her hands. Matt picks it up and reads:
Matt: Uncle Larry's zombie control for dummies, version 2.0 (opens book) Hmmm...
James: Ummm, isn't this something we maybe shouldn't be messing with?
Matt: This is the most interesting thing we've done all day, I'm not taking Scott's laxatives! (reads) "To make your zombie girl come to life, simply read this passage: Arise mort fată arise!"
The zombie girl stands up and stares with her mouth open.
Matt: What should I make her do now?
Scott: Make her take her shirt off! (All look at Scott)
James: Dude, she's dead!
Scott: (embarrassed) Well, its know...
Matt: (reading) "Mort fată , a lovi cu piciorul Scott în balet"
Zombie girl walks over and kicks Scott very hard in the groin. He rolls around on the ground in pain.
Matt: Ha ha, this is awesome!
James: What should we make her do now?
Matt: Oh I've got an idea, a very good idea if you catch my drift. (rubs hand together) Heh heh heh..

Open on outside, lawn.
Zombie girl is standing with a baseball bat in her hands. A ball comes flying and hits her in the stomach. She looks at it and keeps on staring at nothing.
Pan around to SJM. Matt has a baseball glove on.
James: Baseball? Thats what you had in mind? God you're so lame. Give me that book, I've got a much better idea. (Takes book and reads...)

Cut to inside of Matt's house. Zombie girl is sitting at counter with party hat on her head and cake in front of her. It even has a candle lit.
James: Happy Birthday!
Matt: How do you know it's her birthday?
James: It says so right here (points to passage in book)
Matt rolls eyes. Zombie girl throws up blood onto cake.
Scott: well, that was kind of cool. I got her a present. (Holds up dead rat)
Matt: Where did you get that?
Scott: Mousetrap.
Matt: Of course.
Scott: Here you go, happy birthday!
Zombie girl takes rat and eats it. only the tail is sticking out of her mouth when she starts choking and falls face first into her cake.
James: Ummm, what just happened.
Matt: I have no idea, anyone have a copy of the script? (Scott pulls out script and starts reading.)
Scott: It says she died of rat poisoning.
James: That doesn't make any sense at all! Who wrote this crap?
Me from behind camera: Sorry guys, I wrote myself into a corner.
James: How much are we getting paid to do this again?
Me: Ummm, lots of money. Just as soon as we finish, yup. Not lying to you one bit.
Matt: Okay lets get this over with. (in fake shock) Whatever shall we do?
Pan over to Matt's dad which is just Scott with a fake beard.
Dad: What's going on here you hoodlums?
All look at each other.
James: We were just having a party for...Suzy here and she got crazy and drank too much and passed out. We have to take her home now.
Dad: (Looks at Scott) Aren't you the one that talked my son into farting into a jar and mailing it to the school principal?
Matt: Umm, no he's not. Gotta go now, bye!
All drag zombie girl out.
Dad looks around, sits down and quickly devours cake.

Our heroes sit forlornly on a couch with zombie girl in middle. All look sad.
James: This sucks. You and your stupid rats Scott. What is it with you and dead rodents anyways?
Scott: Well, uh...your mom...smells real bad.
Matt: (reading book) Hey! Look at this you guys! "To bring dead girl back to life after accidental re-killing, just say these words."
James: Huh, that seems way too easy, doesn't it Kurdt?
Me: Fine if you want to finish this movie, then do it yourself! I quit!
(camera tilts and falls down on floor. When we come back its only Matt and Scott on couch.)
Matt: (Reading) "I'm supărat mort fată , a face pe plac la a ierta meu tîmpit şi a veni spate la spre viaţă , tu eşti so foarte drăguţ."
Cue heavenly music and dead girl is alive again.
Everyone shouts hooray! Cue All Summer long by The Beach Boys over end montage.

Picture montage:
Guys riding around in car with zombie girl.
Zombie girl trying to play DDR, guys pointing and laughing.
Zombie girl scaring little girl, guys pointing and laughing
Scott with Zombie girl, smiling, thumbs up
Caption: Zombie girl and Scott got married later that summer. They were very happy together...
Picture of zombie girl biting Scott's neck as he looks on in horror.
Caption: ...till she ate off his face.


Sam and Andrea are friends. They are very good friends. They are both in Jr. high school and want to be rock stars someday. Andrea plays guitar and piano and violin. Sam sings and plays a bit of guitar and harmonica but says that she'll never be as good as Andrea on guitar and that is alright with her.
Sam has dark hair that she hates and thinks she is fat, even though Andrea keeps telling her that she is not.
Andrea is skinny and blonde and none of the boys look at her because she has no boobs. This makes her sad but Sam tells her that any guy that would like her just for that isn't worth her time anyways.
Sam likes Bob Dylan but Andrea likes John Lennon better. They both like to sit and listen to records for hours and talk and play guitar and sing songs. Someday they will start a band and have lots of fans and maybe even get on TV. They don't care about being famous though, they just want to sing and play and have people listen to them sing and play.
Sam's dad was a musician who ran away when she was very young. Her mother is fat and sits on the couch all day watching TV.
Andrea never had a dad but her mom is an abusive old witch who forced her to learn violin and piano. She was home schooled till she hit Jr. High. Sam is her only friend as being sheltered from the outside world all her life has made her incredibly shy and quiet.
Together they struggle through the day to day drudgery of high school life, knowing that someday they will escape the crap sack little town they live in.


Take the left fork to the left side of the road and hit the apple tree on the third branch. A man will fall and tell you were you need to turn next. Don't listen to him though, go the opposite way and you will reach the rusted out factory where the manic depressive elves live. Don't go there. Go to the broken down pizza hut next to it and order a large baloney sandwich with three kinds of cheese. A stairway will appear and you will be magically carried away by a pink and purple horse. His name is Hal. Do not ride him. Kick him in the balls and he will vomit magical stomach acid. Take some of this and give it to the dead dog thats rotting outside. He will revive and bite off your hand. Don't worry, you don't need it anyways. Follow him down to the mill by the park where the gay faeries dance and charter a riverboat to the seventh level of Hell. Hell is where your mother lives, don't you remember when she told you to eat her vegetables and you told her you wished she was dead? That wasn't very nice.
Tell the faeries to piss off and they will attack you and bite out your spleen. You will need this later so kill the pamby bastard that did it and get it back. Now board the fershulugin ship and sail away to the dark red waters of Hell. Throw your spleen at Satan and he will surrender his ship and his many many barrels of whores. This was your mission all along, you see. Now you have enough skanky sluts to last a lifetime! You congratulate yourself and get VD. The end.


Jimmy was a dork. You know the kind, they're in high school but still get dressed by their moms. Jimmy was such a dork this his mom also brushed his teeth and combed his hair. Sometimes she even bathed him. This of course got out somehow and Jimmy's one friend (a fat smelly kid that picked his nose and wiped it in his pockets) stopped hanging out with him. Well, they had stood around in the hallway by the art room and now the fat smelly kid stood five feet away but to Jimmy it was like he wasn't even there anymore. The thought ran through his mind that he couldn't even remember the kids name anymore and a single tear ran down his cheek. A group of jocks walked by and laughed and the captain of the football team punched him in the stomach. At least they didn't stuff him in the trashcan like they usually did. Jimmy stood up and walked to homeroom class.

Sitting right in front of Jimmy in Mr. Dergstrom's morning borefest was Melthea Dorbinson. She never talked to Jimmy but he liked to sit behind her and smell her hair. It smelled like strawberry's today. He inhaled deeply and she turned around and gave him a strange look. Then she moved to an empty desk at the front of the room. Another tear ran down his cheek and the beefy jock next to him smacked him in the back of the head with a hefty science book. Jimmy's head flew forward and smashed into his desk. Everything went black and when he woke up....

There was no one else in the room. As he stared in awe at the empty and oddly bright and sunny classroom he heard a voice behind him. Melthea was sitting on the teacher's desk.
"Hey big boy," she said and squeezed her boobs. "How'd you like me to teach you something useful?" Then she pulled off her shirt...

Back in the classroom, Mr. Dergstrom hadn't come in yet. All the kids in the classroom were gathered around Jimmy's unconscious form. Most of his body was blacked out but his hand sure wasn't. Melthea and her friend Almetha laughed and pointed as he furiously jerked himself. Everyone else was silent at this grand spectacle of hideous self love. Suddenly Jimmy groaned and it was all over. As he sat up and screamed the room burst with laughter and poor Jimmy cried and ran out of the classroom into the bathroom.

He weeped as he washed off his hands. As he thought about how many more hours he had before he could be home in the warm loving arms of his mother, he heard a small noise. It was coming from the bathroom stall. Cautiously he walked over and opened it. There was the fat smelly kid sitting on the toilet, his pants pulled down around his ankles, his hands covered in poop. He was crying softly.
"What happened?" Said Jimmy.
"I POOPED MAHSELF!" Said the smelly kid.
"That sucks for you," Said Jimmy "Here let me help you clean up."
As he wiped the stinky shit off the kids hands Jimmy knew that he had found true love. Later they would have sex in the back of the band room till Mr. Nebbish walked in on them and went blind.
The moral of the story is: Love sucks, take it where you can find it. Even if it involves poop and public humiliation.

Harpy valenteens day you hosers!

FILL IN THE _________:

Once up time in the land of ______ there lived a poor _______ by the name of Bargengoogle. He lived in a small __________ by a ________ and was very happy. One day the king of this great land called upon all of its citizens to attend a party at his castle where they would __________ all the _________ in gratitude for all the great things they had done for the kingdom. Bargengoogle was so happy that he _________ his _________ with glee. He dropped his plow, put on his best peasant covering and made his way to the party.
Along the way he met a stinky old hermit by the name of Forgorban the old and stinky. Forgorban pointed an ominous finger in Bargengoogle's nose and warned him not to go the party for there he would _________ and be forced to __________ till his ________ fell out his ___________. Bargengoogle laughed at the old man and told him to run along and _________ with his ___________. Then he continued on his way to the castle.
When he got there the party was already in full swing. All the lords and ladies were already ___________ their ___________ and ____________ the king as he sat on his mighty throne. Bargengoogle had never seen such fun and merriment since he was but a poor peasant farmer. He went to the food table and grabbed a turkey leg chewing it noisily. Suddenly the music stopped. Everyone turned and looked at Bargengoogle. The king __________ and ___________ and ___________ as he ran over and pulled the leg out of the poor man's mouth.
"You stupid fool!" That turkey was for _____________! How are we going to _________ it now? Get out! Leave this land and never return!"
Bargengoogle ran out of the castle crying his poor little eyes out. Before he left for the great wastlelands beyond he vowed to _________ the king in his __________ and ___________ his daughter too. And he did too. But that is a story for another time....


I was working late when I killed my boss. It was just us handling the "up late" shift at Chicken Shack, which wasn't a shack at all, I don't know why it was called that. My job that night was to cut the chicken up for the Healthy chicken Crunch Wrap menu special item bullshit that were popular because of an annoying jingle they put in their ads. Just about everyone that came in ordered one. So there I was cutting up chicken to make these damn things. The thing is there's a certain way they have to be cut. Everything has to be done by the regulations in Chicken Shack Inc.'s company hand book that they give you when you get hired. I dropped the damn thing on my foot one time. That shit hurt let me tell you.
But anyways, the chicken for the Healthy Chicken Crunch Wrap menu special item has to be cut diagonally in exact equal portions. Every chicken patty that comes frozen in large packs to Chicken Shack kitchens across the world looks exactly the same since its really ground up chicken parts mashed into a spherical shape by a machine. There's even lines burned into it where you have to cut. This is all explained in the hand book by the way, you should really track down a copy on Ebay, very interesting reading. Or to hurl through your neighbors window.
That night my boss, having nothing else to do, contented himself with being a prick. He always was a prick but at least when other people were on shift he could spread it around. And at least when Rachael was there he'd hit on her and the blowjobs she gave him for extra money kept him away for a little bit. That night she was home with her sick kid. At least thats what she said. I think she had some personal business to take care of at the Ballard club downtown. Thats what I think.
Alright, I keep going off on tangents. The boss was looking over my shoulder the whole time I was trying to cut and he telling me I was doing it wrong. And he kept jabbing me in the shoulder. I don't like to be touched and I really don't like to be jabbed with a long bony finger thats been God knows where. So...uh...yeah, I got pissed off and I stabbed him in the eye. Thats about it. It wasn't an accident or anything if thats what you're wondering. I got pissed off and took the fucker's eye out.
The bit with the cooler? I didn't do that. Well, you're not going to believe me if I tell you. Alright. After I stabbed his eye out he was fumblin' around screamin' knockin' pots off the racks, making a damn mess in the kitchen. The reg book would have something to say about that let me tell you, ha ha. You probably saw his hand, he put it in the deep friar. It wasn't in very long but he burnt the shit out of it. Jesus, he was screamin' loud. Then the fucking chicken attacked him. I swear on my mother's grave! He kept dancing around, screaming, making a mess, so I opened the cooler and shoved him in. Then the chicken patties jumped on him, fucking covered up his face so he couldn't breath. You found one down his throat didn't you? Yeah, it crawled in there. Weirdest damn thing I've ever seen and I've seen some weird shit. What's that? Nah, I wasn't on drugs. Not that night anyways.
Yeah yeah, thats my story. Back to my cell right? I hear we're having fried chicken for lunch, you better watch your back officer, ah ha ha!


"Arrrgh, what the Hell are you thinking?" I said as I punched my best friend in the face, dislodging several teeth.
"Yanni is the best new age musician ever, not your hack John Tesh! Teshy boy isn't worthy enough to lick Yanni's sandaled feet!"
The he came at me, swinging his meaty fists and cursing every dog I had ever owned.
"Yeh son of a hore, yeh Miffy had ta mange and yeh Rover was a queero!" He hit me hard on the side of the head, popping my left eyeball out of its socket. He reared back to smuck me again and stopped. He looked sad.
"I dinna mean to knock ye glassy out a its home." He said and put his head down while I grabbed it gingerly and tried to set it back in.
"It's alright," I said and winced. "The pains not too bad I guess."
I got it back in place and we both laughed. The Starbucks was busting with people that day and the couple next to our table laughed along with us. I guess they had been following our conversation. I smirked and sipped my coffee.
"Yanni's still the best though." I said into my cup.
Angus looked pissed again. "What ya say ya daft pansy? I dunna think I heard ya right."
I put my coffee down and looked him right in his bulgy eye balls.
"I said, you red haired, no showering excuse for a Scotsman, that..."
Then I threw my coffee in his face. He screamed and rolled around on the ground cursing all of my 13 cats.
So basically, I won. Yanni is the best that ever was and even hard headed Angus had to agree. He'd better, or I'll fucking cut his head off and piss down his neck.


The man on the ground was dead. The fact that he wasn't moving and the large stick stuck in his forehead proved this, at least to George. Richard (Big Dick to his friends) wasn't so sure and gave him a swift kick to the side. Annie screamed and hit him in the face. George laughed and side stepped as Dick came running at him in a rage, putting his foot out so the big dummy would trip and fall, which of course he did, falling face first onto the sand. Then he got up and ran back up the beach to the little cabin in the woods. He was crying. George picked at his teeth and laughed again. Big fucking dummy, he thought, big fucking crybaby dummy. Annie sat looking at the patterns on her faded yellow dress.

The man on the ground in the cheap grey suit did not comment on if the situation was funny or not and lay looking up at the sky the same as before. A single housefly landed on his eyeball and he did not blink. Soon there would be many flies, and maggots, and rotting flesh. But for now he was content to just lay on the sand and enjoy the sun. It wasn't like he could get up anyways. He decided that even though being dead wasn't a whole lot of fun, at least he didn't have to pull himself out of bed to go to work in the early morning or try to patch things up with his wife anymore. He had an excuse to just lay and do nothing. He was living the American dream.
George decided a walk down the beach was in order and started to stroll off in a random direction. Annie just sat and said nothing. Normally she would have run after him, but he guessed the dead man changed everything. No big loss. He was tired of looking at the skinny bitch anyways. He was glad the man had come begging for food. At least it changed things. George couldn't stand things growing stale. He sat on a rock and watched the waves lap at the shore. He was alive and that was all that mattered. He was alive while almost everyone in the world was dead. The other two crybaby retards up the beach could all go fuck themselves for all he cared. George picked up a stick and threw it, watching it land on the water, making ripples that spread out before vanishing into nothingness. They could all go fuck themselves except that they had food, lots and lots of food. He supposed he could take some of it and run but Dick wouldn't let him. George thought he could take the big stupid dolt in a fight, but they'd both probably both get injured or killed. It was best that they all stuck together anyways. For now. He sighed and ran a hand through his greasy black hair. A seagull landed on a rotted fish and proceeded to pluck out its eye. George smiled and lit up a blunt, enjoying the dizzy feeling that immediately overtook his brain. The man's name had been Jack...

Annie was thinking about killing herself. She thought about that a lot, ever since the mist came and took everyone away. She looked at her skinny wrists, examining the veins and tendons. Would it be that hard to just slice them all with a razor? There was no hospital anymore that would save her life, no counselors that she would have to see afterwards, she could just lay down somewhere and die. George kept saying that being alive was all that mattered, that they were lucky. Richard said they were God's chosen people. To Annie it all seemed so pointless, the three of them living here in this rundown shack, what kind of a life was this? She looked at the man again. What was his name? He had said it was Rosy something. Rosy John? He had clearly been insane. When they had said they couldn't spare any food he had flown into a rage. George took care of that pretty quickly. She wasn't in love with him anymore. She had thought she was but the look in in his eyes when he had stabbed the man in the head and smashed his ribs with his boots had changed everything. He had enjoyed it, the sick son of a bitch. She looked down at her wrists again. It would would be so easy to do. So fucking easy. She sighed and decided to go check on Rich. If she didn't go calm him down he might do something stupid. She brushed the sand off her dress and walked up the beach.

Rosy Jack Johnson stared up at the sun and the sun stared back down at Rosy Jack Johnson, killed by a group of Jr. high schoolers just because he was starving and wanted some food. It really wasn't fair but he was dead and it was hard to be angry. A few more flies buzzed by his scarred face. It wouldn't be long now...


Mean Joe Anderson didn't like the current style of music. Actually, Mean Joe Anderson didn't like anything in the current style not the music, the clothes, or the attitude. Mean Joe Anderson would have been called an "old soul" if he had had one, which he most certainly did not. No one could quite figure out why he dressed like a 1940s gangster but no one really dared to ask. The last guy that made fun of his fedora hat had gotten his nose smashed into his brain. Needless to say, Mean Joe Anderson didn't have many friends either. He wasn't in the right line of work for that. The bouncer who's fingers he had just broken sure wasn't going to invite him out to the movies on Saturday night...

Chicago's had only opened up about a week ago but it had already earned a reputation as a "rough joint." You really had to watch yourself or risk getting a knife in your back...or worse.
Mean Joe sat down at the bar and ordered a whiskey on the rocks. A slutty young bartender with a tramp stamp above her thong underwear tried to talk him up while he poured it. Mean Joe ignored her and she went to the other side of the bar. He was thinking about how much the young people grinding up against each other on the dance floor and the vulgar music make him ill when two young males in wife-beaters sat down on either side of him. Mean Joe lit up a cigarette.
"Hey man, whats with the crazy outfit? Where the fuck you think you is?" Said the one on the left.
Mean Joe pulled on his coffin nail and looked down at his shitty drink.
"Hey man, didn't you hear what my friend is saying to you? Is you retarded or somefin?"
Mean Joe looked at the guy on his right. He was wearing a large black hat with a white G embroidered on the front, canted off to the side. This amused Mean Joe quite a bit, but he didn't smile. Mean Joe never smiled. Maybe he had once after a particularly satisfying hit on a well paying job, but just that once and never again. Mean Joe took another drag on his cigarette. The punk on his left leaned in close to Mean Joe's face.
"You chicken shit motherfucker, you're going to get out of here, you hear me? Or you is gonna be in some serious trouble."
His friend pulled out a knife. Mean Joe took the cigarette out of mouth and said in his low gravelly voice:
"No, you're going to leave or I'm going to break your neck."
The punk on his left laughed and looked over at his friend.
"Hey man, you hear dat shit? Thats funny, do you know who we is? We's wanted in five states. We bad ass niggas, we ain't never scared of no clown ass pieces of shit like you. What the fuck you think you doin' walkin' in her wearing that shit? Don't make me tell you again, get the fuck out of my club."
Mean Joe put his cigarette out in the plastic ashtray and lit another.
"Did you hear me motherfucker? I said..."
He didn't get to finish. With one swift motion Mean Joe put his cigarette out in the kids eye and smacked the knife out of his friends hand, caught it, and sliced his throat open. The boy's screams were louder than the music and the DJ cut it. Everyone in the silent gloomy club stood looking at the dapper man in the gray suit with the scar down the left side of his face and at the young man writhing around on the floor in pain. As they watched, Mean Joe leaned over and whispered in the young man's ear.
"I told you I would."
Then he snapped his neck.
Mean Joe picked up his drink and walked back to the private room the owner of the club had reserved for him. Fun time was over, now it was time to get down to business...


The walls of the private back rooms in Chicago's were soundproofed so you could come in and have a private conversation. Regardless, you could still feel the music's beat and the bass made the walls buzz. The rooms were very small, lit by a single dim overhead lamp and containing nothing but a low table surrounded by booth chairs. Mean Joe sat smoking, waiting for the club's owner to show up. It didn't take long. The door opened and in walked Bob Chicago surrounded by three goons in muscle shirts. He pointed and one of them posted at the door. The other two sat on either side of him as he took his seat across from Mean Joe. Inside his head Mean Joe laughed. Despite the size of his bodyguards, Joe knew he could take them all. He supposed Bob Chicago knew this too as he could sense fear coming off of him in waves and could even see sweat forming on his forehead in the dim light. Joe leaned back out of the light's range so only the glow from his cigarette could be seen.
"Nice scarf Bob," he said, "Which of your faggot friends gave you that?"
Mean Joe had nothing against homosexuals, he hated them as equally as he hated anyone else. He had just said it to piss Fat Bob off. And it worked like a charm, Fat Bob was practically shaking and his face was beat red.
"Now, now you listen to me! You can't just walk into my club and start making messes for me to clean up! My best bouncer had to go to the hospital and..."
Mean Joe interrupted him.
"Shit happens."
"Well, well, shit only seems to happen when you come around. On top of that I've got two bodies out there to get rid of before the cops show up and and and I want you out of here now!"
Mean Joe leaned back into the light.
"Shut your fairy mouth and listen. You owe me big time and I'm calling in my favor."
"I don't owe you jack shit!" Said Fat Bob, his jowls shaking in rage, spit flying from his mouth.
"I suppose you forgot how I spared your life last year. Without me you'd be lying in a swamp right now with a nice size hole in your head and your dick stuffed in your mouth. You'd be alligator food. Is that what you want? I could still make it happen."
Fat Bob's eyes went wide.
"You bastard, you unimaginable bastard. Tell me what you want and get the Hell out of here!"
Mean Joe leaned back in his chair again. He was enjoying this, enjoying it a lot. He pulled the last bit of tobacco from his cigarette and put it out on the table top.
"I need a place to hide away for awhile. You're going to get me one."
Fat Bob sighed in relief. He laughed.
"Is that all? Jesus, I thought you were going to make do some awful errand for you."
Fat Bob wiped the sweat away from his forehead. Mean Joe said nothing.
"Yeah, yeah I got a place. It's a ways out of town. I bought this run down cabin last year just in case I needed a place to go. Its got electricity and running water and not much else. I've been stockpiling food since I bought it....why do you need it anyways if you don't mind me asking?"
"You let your goons fuck you in the ass? I bet that feels real good. Bet you could shit standing up."
One of the guards started to get up and Fat Bob restrained him.
"I'll have a car ready to take you out there tomorrow..."
"Tonight at midnight...."
"Eleven thirty."
"Eleven thirty at Seabird's Bridge..."
"Green River Tunnel."
"Green River Tunnel, they'll take you out to the cabin and drop you off. Now you listen to me buster, I don't ever, ever want to see you in here again, you hear me?"
Mean Joe laughed without smiling. It was a low rumbling sort of laugh that made Fat Bob's blood turn to ice and his face go pale. Mean Joe got up to leave. It looked like he was going to walk out but he turned and leaned in close to Bob's fat sweaty face and whispered,
"If you double cross me you candy ass piece of shit, you'll regret it more than you can even imagine. You got lucky that night I let you live, don't think I'll be so generous again."
Then he pushed past the bouncer blocking the door and walked out. Fat Bob sat for a minute, trying to get his nerves back. Then he ordered one of the goons to get the car ready and they all left. The room sat silent and empty except for the pounding of the drumbeat and the buzzing of the bass from the music outside.


Mean Joe did not feel good. He stood in the shadows of the old arcade, watching Fat Bob's goons mill around by the entrance to the disused river tunnel and pondered what it meant. He thought back to all the times he had felt this way before, sick to his guts. Something bad always happened. It was a warning and ignoring it had always had consequences. He couldn't back out now though. If he wasn't out of town soon something even worse would probably happen. Cut the probably, he would be dead. So how to proceed? Well, Fat Bob had sent four guys down, he thought, lets start with that...

Slick Jimmy was thinking of getting the job over with and going home to play World of Warcraft. He was thinking about how he was going to miss a very important raid when he caught something moving out of the corner of his eye and turned. Too late. A fist covered in brass knuckles came out of the darkness and planted itself in his face. Before he could react there was a foot in his stomach and a large man with a funny hat on took out a very large pistol and quickly shot all three of his coworkers before they could move to draw. How could a man so large move so fast? And what was with that suit? Slick Jimmy decided it was a good idea not to move from his current position. He spit out a tooth and watched as the man walked up to his boy Thug-Z who had a side wound and was struggling to get up. The man in the gray suit knelt down. He whispered something close to his face that seemed to reassure the young man who laid back down. Then the man punched Thug-Z's face in. Slick Jimmy proceeded to wet his pants.
The man stood over his now dead associate and stared down at him for what seemed like a very long time. The he got up, re-holstered his pistol, and stood over Slick Jimmy looking down at him. The thing that Jimmy noticed the most was the waves on the pier. It was such a nice normal calming sound, grounded in reality. Everything else seemed like a very bad dream. The man knelt down.
"Get up. You're going to drive." He said and stood back up.
Slick Jimmy, despite his bruised face and stomach had never moved so fast in his whole life.

The drive to the old cabin was unexceptional. It was quite a ways out of the city and the man did not make a sound the whole way. Every once in awhile Jimmy glanced at him in the rear view mirror. There was something in that face that frightened him a lot. Maybe it was those eyes or that hideous scar. Something about him smacked Jimmy as not entirely human. But that was stupid right? As the buildings gave way to trees and the pavement gave way to dirt, Jimmy tried to tell himself again that it was all a bad dream...

He almost missed the turn into the cabin's long driveway. It was easy to miss in the dark. Hell, it was easy to miss in the daytime. What would the man have done if he had missed it and had to turn around? He shivered as he turned into the slash in the trees.
It was always so dark in here, even during the day. All he could see now was the already overgrown dirt drive about a foot in front of his headlights. Jeez, they had just torn that up two weeks ago how was that possible...
Something ran out in front of the car and Jimmy slammed on the breaks. He turned his head quickly to catch a glimpse of whatever it was as it ran off into the thick woods. Before he could ponder what kind of an animal had a tail with a forked end, he felt a gun shove up against the back of his head and a voice that scared him much more than the weird old woods spoke up.
"Drive." It said.
That was enough for Jimmy. If I get out of this alive, he thought, I promise to god I won't use hacks in Counterstike again. Oh god please just let me live to see my computer again...

It seemed to take forever but when they finally pulled up to the front of the cabin, Jimmy stopped the car and turned it off. Then he sat as the man got out and came around to his side of the car and opened the door. He was pointing a gun at his head.
"Get out. You're going in first. You better pray to God your boss didn't set up an ambush inside that door or you're getting the first shots."
Jimmy wet himself again as they walked up to the entrance....

Something screamed deep in the woods and Mean Joe felt sick again. Something was very wrong here. He pushed the barrel of his 44 harder against the kids head as he turned the handle and pulled the door open....


Mean Joe sat eating a shitty TV dinner type breakfast meal. He didn't like it but that was pretty much all that was in the cabin and in the storage shed out back. At least now he knew how fat Bob got so fat. He shoveled another fork full of shitty processed eggs into his mouth and thought over the days events.
All in all it had been a pretty productive day. Killing those goons would put more fear into Fat Bob which was defiantly a good thing. Plus if he sent anyone over to take him out, Mean Joe knew he could take any number of them easily. He almost wished they would try and take him down. As for the reasons he was hiding out, well that was a bit more complicated. Mean Joe told himself it was the smart thing to do as he choked down a few pieces of sausage and looked at the kitchen clock. 3:00 AM. Time for bed. He pushed open the entryway door and threw the horrible slop onto the grass outside. Tomorrow he would go find some real food. Lots of things to do tomorrow...

The upstairs loft was the roomiest in the cabin. It was one large space that spanned the whole upstairs. It contained one large bed, a small dresser, and a wardrobe closet, and a small table with a lamp. Mean Joe sat down at the table, took off his overcoat, and cleaned his pistol. It was one of the only things in the world that he loved as it never let him down. He took care of it and it took care of him. As he cleaned the bore and oiled the cylinders, he let his mind wander again...

With the gun to the goons head, he had searched every room in the place. It wasn't hard since there was only two rooms downstairs. The bulb in the second room, which turned out to be a living area with a few small couches and a coffee table, was burnt out. He had ordered the kid to turn on one of the desk lamps but before he could move there was a noise behind them. Mean Joe turned and fired at the sound. After they had gotten a light on they looked at the splotch of blood, fur, and guts, against the wall that had recently been a mouse. The kid had turned pale. Then they had searched the upstairs and all around the outside. When they had gotten to the outhouse Mean Joe had grabbed the kid and dangled him over the hole, head first.
"You like shit kid?" He had said and dropped his head a little lower towards the fetid pool of human waste.
"Tell your boss if fucks with me he's going to be in a lot of it." Then he had dunked the kids head in, pulled him out, and sent him on his way with a hearty kick to the rear. There was really no point in doing this but fun was fun, you had to get it while you could...

Mean Joe finished cleaning his 44 and climbed into bed. He put his gun on the nightstand, turned off the light, and sat listening to the darkness. The quiet unsettled him. The city was always noisy but here all he could hear was the crickets outside and the creaking of the cabin as it settled. Maybe that was what was bugging him, he wasn't used to the silence. No, no. It was something else. Something was picking at the back of his brain. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. It was another hour and a half before he finally fell asleep...

Mean Joe was 8 years old again. He knew this because of where he was, which was the shithole apartment he shared with his mother till he had run away a year later. He looked at the dingy walls, the shitty junk pile furniture. He could even smell the stench of utter poverty, a heady mix of dirty clothes and rancid garbage. He looked down at his hands. He had been reading a comic book. Donald Duck was getting beat up by a punching bag on the cover. Now where had that come from? Suddenly his stomach felt sick. He thought he knew what day it was...
Suddenly the front door slammed open and a woman stumbled into the room. She had a bottle of gin in one hand. The other was wrapped up with dirty bandages. His mother. With mounting horror he noted how her makeup was smeared all over her face, making her look like a clown, but not a funny one. This wasn't funny at all. Her dress was torn open and he could see her breasts. She came right for him and he tried to make himself run away but he was stuck to the floor. She stumbled over and picked him up, roughly, putting her face right next to his.
"You little shit." She whispered and he could smell the booze on her breath. Then she threw him against the wall.
"You little shit, this is all your fault! You stupid little shit, you ruined everything!" She screamed and stumbled over with her fist raised to hit him. Suddenly she stopped. Something had caught her eye. She leaned over and picked up the comic book he had been reading. She waved it in his face.
"Where did you get this? WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?"
"M-M-Mr. Blakeston gave it me mom, I..."
"No he didn't. You stole it. You little liar."
"M-M-Mom I..."
Then she hit him with the book. Over and over and over. And he could feel it. He could feel the sting of every blow. She hit him till the book was nothing but rags, then she threw it in his face and stumbled off into the kitchen.
Mean Joe desperately tried to remember what had happened next but he kept drawing a blank. He knew it was something bad but what...
Suddenly he knew, even before his mother came out of the kitchen with a carving knife in her hand.
"Gotta, go-gotta teach you a lesson boy. Can't have you stealin' anymore, didn't raise you that way. No son of mine..."
Then she was on top of him, holding his mouth shut with one hand and cutting his face with the other...

Mean Joe sat up in bed and stared out into the darkness. He fingered the long scars on the side of his face. To his surprise, they felt numb, the whole left side of his face did. Before he could think of what that meant or why he had had that particular dream, there was a loud crashing noise downstairs. Mean Joe grabbed his pistol and slowly climbed out of bed...


"Marmaduke, you left your bones on the chair again!" Screamed the poorly drawn owner lady.
"Thats the last goddamn time!"
From the hall closet she pulled out a 40. Calibur shotgun.
"Oh you big stupid dog, you're getting it now!" She mumbled as she wandered through the poorly drawn house. But where was Marmaduke?
He wasn't in the kitchen. He wasn't in the den. He wasn't in the yard. Where...
Suddenly a scream broke out from upstairs, a bloodcurdling scream that seemed to last forever and then was suddenly cut short.
Poorly drawn owner lady rushed up stairs and threw open the bedroom door. The smell of fresh blood hit her before her brain could process what her eyes were seeing and she vomited all over herself. There were blood and body parts all over the poorly drawn room. It was like it had gotten a new coat of paint. And in the middle of all the horrible gore was the big stupid dog himself, happily gnawing on a sneakered leg.
Poorly drawn owner lady aimed her shotgun and steeled herself...
Suddenly the door to the bathroom and out ran...Billy from Family Circus? Oh shit, owner lady knew she was in trouble. Billy was covered from head to toe in hand grenades and plastic explosive.
"You touch my eternal lover and we all die." Shouted Billy in the most annoying voice ever.
They all looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. Poorly drawn owner lady threw down her shotgun and ran as fast as she could to Ziggy's house. There she could rest up and think about her next step. And also make sweet sweet love to Ziggy's nose.

Next time: Billy hits his head and we flashback to just what really happened the rest of the Circus. It ain't pretty...


It all started the night mother made soup for dinner instead of the usual evening meal of whatever she could scrape off the road that day. I was excited to get to eat something without gravel or maggots, or at least with cooked gravel or maggots in it. I looked that steaming pot sitting on our splintery table and my mouth filled with saliva. Then she plopped it down on my hubcap plate. I stared at it as the wind whistled through the chinks in our tar paper shack and mother stared at me.
"Well, what ya waiting fer boy? Eat it!" She yelled and smacked me on the head.
"I had to blow that old fishmonger for an hour to get that, now eat it!" Then she smacked me again.
I picked up my rusty fork and poked at the salmon's head in front of me. Suddenly my heart started to race and I felt dizzy. How could I cut up and eat such a beautiful thing? I stared at it's slimy gills, its glassy eyes, and wide fishy lips. I wanted it, I wanted it so bad.
Mother smacked me again and I got hard in my bad area.
"Well," she said and crossed her arms.
I knew what I had to do. I knocked the hubcap onto the floor.
Mother screamed, "You miserable little brat, howa you gonna eat it now? It's filthy!"
She picked me up and threw me into a pile of rotting beef carcasses in the corner. She came at me, but I ducked past her and ran outside, into the maze of the junkyard. I hid in the trunk of an old Beetle and fell asleep.

I awoke several hours later and carefully slunk back to our shack. Mother was sneaky and she could have waited for me to come out but tonight the gas light was off and everything was quiet. By the light of the full moon I found my love sitting on our rot-pile.
"Hello Billy." She said in a sultry ladies voice.
"W-Whats your name?" I stuttered.
"Elizabeth. You want me don't you Billy?"
"Oh god yes."
"Then lets find a quiet spot, away from her."
I looked back at the shack, at the window in the corner where mother slept. It was still dark. I picked Elizabeth up and ran.

My happy quiet spot was in the very middle of the junk yard, a clearing in a pile of rusting cars. I sat down and looked into her beautiful glassy eyes. I ran my hands across her slimy scales.
"Oh, take me Billy!" She yelled.
No matter how many fish heads I've loved, I never forgot my first. I never forgot how good it felt to push past those lips into the slimy innards. I never forgot the smell or the way she felt in my hands. I thrusted again and again, heaving and pushing, till finally it was all over.
I lay down in the dirt with Elizabeth on my chest.
"Was it good for you?" I whispered to her softly.
"Oh yes," She replied.
"Do you love me?
"Oh Billy, I'll love you till the day I rot away."
Then we kissed, slowly at first, but then full tongue. I got hard again. We were making sweet sweet love for the third time when I heard a noise behind me and turned.
There was mother standing at the far end of the clearing with the punishment bat in her hand. I never forgot the look on her face. Then the hitting started.

I woke up in the well. Mother had put the cover on this time and the only light was coming from a shrine of St. Andrew in front of me that I was supposed to pray to for forgiveness. All I could do was cry for my lost love.


When the first explosions hit, knocking everyone in the convention hall down, I shit in my fur-suit. I'd eaten nothing but Taco Bell during the whole fur-convention week and the resultant mess ran down my legs into my fur-boots. Thus when everyone else ran outside to watch the sky split apart, I ran into the bathroom. From what I heard later it was quite a show, all weird colors and jaggedy lightening but I was too busy cleaning the shit off of me to care about anything else. I still wanted to get with that sexy fox-vixen I had been talking to before the first explosion hit. I didn't care if it was a guy or girl in there. For us furries, it's all about the fantasy. And I wanted to get laid by a giant fox. I put my wolf suit back on and ran out just in time for another explosion to send everyone running back inside. I ducked under a booth as three more explosions rocked the air, showering pieces of ceiling down. Then everything was quiet.
When I saw everyone else getting up I got up too and we all walked outside. The sky was a deep shade of pulsating neon purple and we stood, transfixed. And then it split open, and the mist came pouring down. I watched as my animal brethren were engulfed in it, one by one. Suddenly someone screamed and we all ran back inside as fast as we could. I sat down on the floor and took my wolf head off. Then I looked around and realized that no one else had, and put it back on. Despite all the weird things that had happened that day, I was still a Wolf goddammit! I spotted that sexy vixen again and was walking over when a guy in a cheap rabbit suit yelled and pointed at the glass door at the front of the hall. Something was moving around in the mist just outside the doors, pacing back and forth.
Suddenly it turned and smashed through the glass, a huge snarling tiger, now bloody from the glass...and wearing a convention button. We all screamed and started to run to the back rooms but the Tiger jumped on a cat-girl that had tripped on her own tail and proceed to tear her to shreds. The slimmest of us got in and locked the doors but we left the larger furs behind. We listened to them scream to be let in as they were mutilated, but it we all agreed that it was us or them. Then we all sat around and listened to the tiger try to break the door down. A hot looking squirrel spoke up.
"I'm bored. Lets find something to do."
"Well," I said, "lets do what furries always do in situations like this..."
"Yiff!" We all yelled. And yiff we did. Till the mist seeped under the door and turned a mouse and bear into real giant mouse and bears who then proceeded to tear each other apart. Then we decided it was best to find another place to hide out and have indiscriminate sex. We ran into the store room's meat locker. It didn't seem to make sense that there would be one there, but it was pretty lucky for us.
"So," said a male wolf, "Should we yiff first, or pig out on this frozen meat?"
"I'm a cow," said a cow, "I can't eat that."
"Alright then," said the wolf as he pulled out his human member, "lets do this thing!"
Three days later the power shut down and we ate as much meat as we could before it started to rot. A good portion of us got some bad ham though and got pretty sick, throwing up all over the place. Some of us thought that was pretty hot, but I had never been into that stuff. We were able to survive for about a month by eating the one's who died until it was just me and the other wolf.
"Alright, I think we should fight each other to the death." He said.
"Shouldn't we yiff one last time?" I proposed.
"I supposed we could...hey, whats that noise?"
Suddenly the door flew open and there stood...zombies? In superhero costumes? The wolf pushed me out the door and shut it behind him. The zombies stood looking at me.
"Wolf man?" Superman growled. "What kind of superhero is wolf man?"
"He not superhero." Growled Thor "He just furry. Stinky furry too. Me no like eat furries, me get bad stomach."
The other zombies agreed and shuffled away. I walked back into the convention hall. At least the mist was gone, but what kind of world was left in it's wake? I yearned for someone to Yiff with. Suddenly, across the street, I saw her in front of a grocery store: A giant cut out of Speedy Alka Seltzer. I had found my true love. We got married in a broken down church with a toilet serving as a minister. Later I would publish the memoirs of his amazing life after he died in a strange plumbing accident. The Life and Times of a Toilet became a best-seller in Zombie Superhero America and in human pork pie Europe. It was banned in Don Knotts clone Antarctica, however.


When his alarm clock went off Charlie Brown was dreaming about a little red haired girl he had known when he was a child. He was dreaming about the day her family had moved. He was standing on the street by her house watching the movers pack up the van, trying to get one last glimpse of her when suddenly there was this annoying buzzing sound and the world went dark.
Charlie Brown opened his eyes and blearily looked at the cheap clock by his bed side. Noon, great. Why had he set it? It's not like he had a job to go to since the toothpaste factory fired him yesterday. He supposed he had set it as a habit. After twenty damn years of doing the same things over and over it's hard to stop doing them unless you really stop to think. Thinking was not something Charlie Brown wanted to do much lately, not since Lucy had left him and taken the kids anyways. He rolled out of bed and greeted the world by slipping on a beer can and almost hitting his head on the bedside table. Luckily he missed and ended up on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
Good grief, he thought, what if I just lay here and don't get up? Who'll miss me? He started to drowse back to sleep when he was roused by his cell phone going off. Hadn't they canceled his service? Where was it coming from anyways? Bathroom. Great.
Charlie Brown got up and walked the small way through his dingy apartment, stepping over beer bottles and dirty magazines. He head still hurt from the massive amounts of whiskey he had ingested the night before and now his back hurt from landing on the floor. He half hoped the phone would stop before he got to it. No good news ever came by phone anymore. He got to the bathroom and stopped, letting out a forlorn sigh before pushing the door open and stepping into its smelly confined depths....

"Where the Hell have you been big brother? I've been trying to call you all week! Why didn't you come to my college graduation?"
Sally sounded angry, angrier than Charlie Brown had ever heard her.
"I'm sorry Sally. I just got fired from my job and Lucy has been taking all my money and..."
"That's no excuse! I told you I'd pay for you to come, I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU! NEVER EVER EVER EVER..."
Thats when it hit him, that horrible rolling in his guts he knew all too well. This was not turning out to be a particularly enjoyable day. Charlie Brown leaned over the toilet and let loose. He dropped the phone on the floor but could still hear it as he heaved.
"NEVER EVER...big brother are you alright? Hello?"
He looked down at the bowl. Hmmm, didn't remember eating that.
"Yeah I'm fine Sally, look. I'll come down for your birthday I promise...when is it again?"
"Sally, sally wait...."
Then she hung up. Charlie Brown looked sadly at the phone for a bit and then dropped it in the toilet. Then he walked out of the bathroom without flushing. He'd deal with it later. Right now a breakfast of Jack Daniels and cold pizza was calling to him. Hopefully his stomach could handle it. Charlie Brown reasoned that his day couldn't possibly get any worse. As he ate his king's meal a memory flashed through his mind almost randomly. He remembered the last date he had had with Peppermint Patty before he had broken it off to marry Lucy. As he thought of the tears that had welled up in her eyes and the hurt on her face, the pizza didn't taste so good anymore. Why had he done that? They had a good thing going, he supposed Lucy's will was just stronger.
"Now Patty's a lesbian." He said out loud to no one at all. He sighed again and threw his pizza on the floor. He'd clean it up later. He picked up the bottle of Jack and drank the little bit that was left. Almost out of booze, he thought. Better go for a run. I wonder if Shermy's up yet? Maybe I can get a few bucks out of him.
Charlie Brown walked out of his apartment and down the hallway. Through the window on the end he could see that the sky was gray and it looked like rain. Charlie Brown's loud knocking on his door brought no one. Shermy must have been at Patty's house again. Or maybe Violet. Or maybe even Charlotte. He had so many girls it was hard to keep track of them sometimes. He sighed and took the stairs down to the ground floor....

In the empty lobby he stopped and looked out the glass doors. It was starting to rain. What a perfect day. A perfect day to be Charlie Brown. As he walked to the Liquor Store in the rain to spend his last few dollars he cursed a god that would let such things like his life happen. Then he calmed down and realized that it was pretty much all his fault. He had never been good at making decisions....

I'll stop myself here. I could try and shoehorn Schroeder and Re-run and a host of other obscure characters in but I already don't like what I've created. There's a special place in Hell for me I just know it...


Patty stepped out her front door into the cold grey November day. It was colder than she had thought and she was glad to have bundled up as much as she did. It hadn’t snowed yet so all the chill hung in the air making it colder than it should have been. She hugged her arms around her chest and watched her breath float in the air. Roger was late as usual. Roger was always late. As she stared down the street to see if she could see his car, her mind started to wander, first to her upcoming sixteenth birthday party, then to the big math test she had that day, and finally her thoughts came back, like they always did, to Doug. Goddamn Doug…
When they had first started dating he was alright. He took her to the movies and the Honkaburger, the usual stuff. She wasn’t really into him but she figured as a first boyfriend, he was alright. She was planning on dumping him when she found someone better, but then it started to get weird. He had started calling her late at night until her dad had ordered him to stop. Then one night he came over at 3 AM and pelted her window with rocks till she woke up. Stupidly she had met him at the back door and asked him what he wanted. He said that he had had a dream about her and had wanted to see her face. She told him not to do it again. Then one night she woke up and he was standing at her beside, staring at her. She had freaked out and kicked him a good one in the face. He had fallen down and made this weird howling noise, it was so loud it made her ears ring. She had clamped her hand over his mouth to shut him up and listened as her dad got out of bed and into his wheelchair. That always took awhile and she had time to hiss in his ear to leave and go home. He had just lain there, crying his eyes out. She told him that if he didn’t leave she’d never be seen with him again, and that got him moving and out the window. She had told her dad that she had a bad dream and that was that. Doug apologized the next day and she had forgiven him. He had gotten down on his knees in front of the whole school and begged for forgiveness. Accepting his apology was the only way to get him to stop.
She still went out with him, now completely out of pity. The poor guy had no friends left. Even that huge stoner Skeeter, who had tolerated him in the past, wouldn’t talk to him at all anymore. Patti had heard a half rumor that Doug had suggested they play some sick game involving a cracker and masturbation and that was why they weren’t friends anymore, but she didn’t believe it at first. But she did later…
Other than coming over to her house at night, Doug seemed rather boring at first. But then he started to tell her all the things that occupied his head. He said sometimes he imagined he was a superhero or a top secret agent. He said he would blank out and actually become those people. He showed her really bad drawings he had made of him torturing Roger Klatt with the James Bond crotch laser. It wasn’t normal at all. All she could do was nod and fake a smile. Then one day they were doing math homework at her house and she was pretty sure he was touching himself under the table, but she couldn’t catch him doing it. He started coming over at night again, this time serenading her with stupid songs on his banjo. He stopped doing that when her dad came out with a shotgun. He left notes in her locker saying that she was all he thought about, a perfect angel, they were meant to be together, he needed to be around her all the time. He left at least three a day. It freaked her out and she started avoiding him, which made things worse. One day he came over and cried about how he was going to kill himself if she didn’t love him and got snot and tears all over her blouse. She really did feel bad for him though, that was the problem. He was such a loser but he was so pathetic that she couldn’t tell him off. The last straw was at the Bluffington Beet Festival when he proposed to her in front of everyone…
She came out of her head and back to the cold. Damn, still no Roger. She was going to rip him a good one this time. She was about to sit down on the curb when something across the street caught her eye. It wasn’t far away but she couldn’t quite make out what it was, then a truck went by and when it passed, there was Doug. Was he wearing underwear outside his pants and a belt on his head? What the Hell? Seeing him turn up so suddenly shocked her and for a few seconds she couldn’t move, then he started to run across the street and she bolted for the house.
She had forgotten she had locked the door. In a panic she knelt down and started to rummage in her backpack for the front door keys but Doug was already standing in front of her. He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her up. What the fuck was wrong with is eyes?
“Jesus Christ Doug let go of me, what the fuck are you doing? You’re hurting me! LET GO OF ME!” She screamed and tried to lash out but he held her arms tightly. Kicking him in the shins did nothing at all.
“I’m not Doug,” he said in an eerie monotone voice, “I’m Quail-man. You will take off your clothes Patty Mayonnaise. You will take off your clothes and dance for me. Dance!”
“OH FUCK OH JESUS SOMEBODY HELP ME PLEASE!” She screamed and kicked with her legs, but he didn’t move at all. Neither of them noticed the beat up car that pulled up to the curb, or the person who got out wearing shit-kicker boots and a leather jacket…

Roger was late again. He knew he was late, but he didn’t mean to be. He had gotten ready to pick Patty up but had gotten distracted by a Mr. Swirly ad on TV. After it was over he had watched a bunch of music videos before he had remembered where he had to be. Then he had ran out the door cursing at himself. If you keep letting her down, he told himself, how are you ever going to get any? He was still thinking about how stupid he was when he came around the corner. He couldn’t figure out what was going on right away but he knew something was wrong….

Getting the goon off of her was easy, Roger just grabbed him by the shoulder, turned him around, and socked him across the mouth. To his surprise though, Doug didn’t go down, he barley moved even though is mouth was bleeding pretty good. Jesus, what was going on with his eyes? And his clothes?
“Roger Klatt, Quail-man commands you to take off your clothes, take them off and dance for Quail-man, Roger…”
It was too much weirdness for Roger to take and he solved the situation the only way he knew how…
Doug went down like a ton of bricks, holding his crotch, a grimace of pain across his face.
“What did I tell you about Patty, Doug? I fucking told you to stay away from her! You even look at her again and I’ll kill you, you understand me?” He took out his switchblade for emphasis. Then Doug started to cry.
“Oh Jesus Christ Funny, what the fuck is wrong with you? Goddman it. Let’s get out of here Patty, you’re already late for class.”
As they drove away she turned and watched the figure lying by her front door recede into the distance. She closed her eyes but she could still hear him sobbing, sobbing and softly calling out her name…


Mrs. Oldcrotch was skullfucking Suzy Noname when she spotted Billy McCree drawing in his notebook. She pulled her huge pulsating cock out of Suzy's eye-socket with a pop and stomped over to his desk. She grabbed the notebook and slammed the picture against her huge bulging eyeballs, rubbing it up and down. Billy didn't protest. The last time he did he had gotten sent to the principals office and had to eat fermented sour-cream off the old man's hairy nut sack.
"What the Hell is this shit?" Oldcrotch screamed and ripped the notebook to shreds. "This is obscene! Horrible! You fucking stupid retarded monkey fuck stick! Your parents are going to hear about this, after I tie them to a tree and rape them with tire irons."
Then she shoved the paper into her mouth, chewed, and spit it in Billy's face. She pulled an ax out of the zero-space of her vagina and cleaved his head in two.
"I've had enough of your bullshit. Art has no place in the civilized world. We need worker drones to do work for the rich people. Don't you know that's what school is for? Did you think this was all a game?" She screamed as she ripped out pieces of brain. Then she took her gigantic cock and leaned it up against his face, pissing directly into his skull till it filled the cavity and flooded the tiles.
Out of the massive mounds of wax that clung to the inside of her ears she pulled a handful of advertisements, slogans, and false history and shoved them into the piss that now occupied Billy's head. They floated for a bit, then soaked up the vile liquid and expanded till they took up every bit of space.
Billy smiled. It was all so clear now. Creativity was for fags. Billy saw his future as a bright shining beacon of hope: he would get a factory job to support the companies that gave him fast food to eat and a shitty over-priced apartment to live in while his wife popped out kids to eat up the resources of an already over-populated world.
Mrs. Oldcrotch farted loudly and then went back to her skullfucking. Later she would vomit wonderful lies about Mexican immigrants and Native Americans and they would all eat of it happily. The world was a safe place to live.


He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply just once before putting it out in the ashtray on the table. Then the words tumbled out of him like puke from a light-weight drinker with a bad stomach.
"Yeah, I shot her. I'm not going to lie or sugar coat it. I put the gun against her head while she was sleeping and pulled the trigger and if you think I deserve to be punished then by all means, punish me. To tell you the truth I really wouldn't give a rat's ass if one of you fucking pigs came up and slit my throat right now. You could do it you know. Just put my body in a cell and claim it was suicide. But you're too fucking chicken shit to do it. Fucking cops. You think you're all a bunch of big men dontcha? Well fuck you! Fuck all of you!"
He stood up suddenly and belted the nearest officer across the face. The others immediately jumped him and tried to hold him down while he ranted and raved and kicked. For a skinny guy, he could sure take a beating though. With six fat cops on top of him he could almost stand up.
Sgt. Kawalchik sat and watched the fight, not moving from his place at the head of the table. In the dim light of the interrogation room the fat folds on his face cast weird shadows and made him look more than a little creepy, to me anyways. Me, the special guest at this crazy party.
When they had knocked the the life out of him they stood him up. One officer made the mistake of getting too close and the guy spit a wad of blood in his face. The result was quite comical with the fat slob pawing at his own face, trying to keep it out of his eyes. The convicted murder smiled and mumbled something under his breath. The officer, who apparently didn't think the gag was funny, belted him across the face, knocking him out cold. The Sgt. and I watched as he was dragged away, possibly to the hospital, but solitary confinement was a more likely choice.
The Sgt. turned to me with that blank look he always had. He'd make a great poker player, you could never tell what he was thinking.
"So Mitch," He said in that low gravely voice of his, "What do you think?"
I smiled. "I think the pope still shits in the woods."
The Sgt. frowned. "You think this is a fucking joke?"
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my hands behind my head. "Jeez Sarge, relax. He's just some psycho that killed his bitch wife thats all. He fucking admits it himself for crying out loud."
Sarge went back to staring at the grimy wall at the other end of the table. He sighed. "Yeah, but somethin' don't add up. There weren't any fingerprints on that gun for one thing..."
"Why the Hell are you so interested in this anyways? You could have him sent to the chair right now if you wanted too."
"That 'bitch' happened to be my daughter. Now she's dead and something don't add up right." Still no emotion from the guy. He was like a statue. A fat dumpy statue.
It felt like I'd been hit in the stomach with a shovel however. I lit a cigarette and shoved all my snarky comments down in my guts to dissolve in acid.
I was about to say something when the next witness was escorted in, probably saving me a good deal of grief caused by my big mouth...
[Stated to be continued in published book format.]


"Hello Kiddies and welcome back to channel 666's Children's afternoon matinée with
me, your old pal Uncle Bob!"

(Uncle Bob is a shabbily dressed middle aged man with dimestore ghoul makeup poorly applied to his face. He sits at what looks like two card tables put together, covered with a black cloth. You have the sneaking suspicion that he's not wearing pants. The set looks like it's someone's basement.)

(Uncle Bob belches loudly and laughs) "If you're just joining us the movie you missed was Cannibal Ferox. Oh boy was that a corker! (He slams his hand on the table) Those Italians sure could make a great movie, I tell ya! What'd you think of it Pooty?"

(The camera swerves to the left side of the basement and we see another middle aged man wearing a filthy sweat stained clown costume, holding a bottle of Thunderbird. He takes a swig of it and coughs before looking blearly across the room)
"It was fucking awful." (He takes another swig and the camera switches back to Uncle Bob.)

"Oh, you're just mad because you caught your wife with your dog."

(Some undecipherable yelling comes from off camera, followed by more loud coughing)

"Well kids, it seems like Pooty the Clown isn't feeling well today but I'm as chipper as a fucking fiddle, ha HA! (Slams the table again) Before we get to the next movie lets read some fan mail! Ha ha ha ha HA!"
(He pulls a box out from under the table and digs out a letter)
(Reads) "Dear sick-fuck. I caught my little Andy watching The Driller Killer last week and after I smacked him good upside the head and chained him back up in his basement cage, I watched the rest of the movie myself. It was awful! How dare you show such junk on TV! To top it all off Andy brought a power drill to school yesterday and took a chunk out of his teacher's spine! It's all your fault! You should be shot! Eat shit and die!
Mary from Michigan

(Uncle Bob laughs and shoves the letter into his mouth. He chews it up and spits it into his hand, then throws it off camera. We cut to Pooty wiping it off his face.
He puts his head down and sobs.)

Camera switch back to Uncle Bob: "Awww, my mean trick made Pooty sad! (He puts on a thinking expression and then smiles) I know how to make him better! Lets all yell as loud as we can at the TV: 'LIGHTEN THE FUCK UP POOTY!' Remember to yell it as loud as you can! 1-2-3!"
(He pauses for a second with his hand to his ear.)
"I can't hear you! Scream louder!"
(Suddenly there's an ear-piercing shriek and Uncle Bob gets a worried expression on his face.)
"Uh-oh! You know what that means kids! It's..."
(A raggedy squirrel puppet pops up from under the table. It's missing one eye and we can clearly see a hand inside of it."
Puppet: "That's right fuckers! It's Billy Beaver!"
(He smacks Uncle Bob in the face)
Puppet: "Ha ha ha! You fat cock-knocker!"
(He knocks over the box of letters onto the floor)
"What are ya going to do huh? You can't do anything can you? I can do anything I want! Ha Ha! Hey Poot-stain, how's your wife? Oh thats right...she left you didn't she? Well at least everyone had a go at her before she took off, right Uncle Blob?"
(Pooty runs in from off camera)
"Why you stupid little..."
He starts strangling the puppet, which of course does nothing but make it laugh more.)
(Uncle Bob looks mad) "Pooty, get back to your corner, NOW!"
(Pooty shuffles back off camera. The camera switches and we see him take another swig of T-Bird before it switches back to Uncle Bob)
"And as for you, you poor excuse for a splooge sock, I know how to get rid of you!" (He looks at the camera) "And I think you kids at home do too! Remember to yell as loud as you can! 1-2-3! GO BACK TO HELL FUCKY BEAVER!"
(Bucky spasms around on the table)
"You haven't won yet Bob! I'm not leaving until I'm good and ready!"
"Quick kids, again! 1-2-3!"
(Bucky rolls around on the table and screams in pain)
"Alright, I'll go. But I'll get you back Bob! I'll knock up your daughter and then run out on her! Ha ha ha!"
(Uncle Bob looks sad)
"Too late, her cousin Elmer already did that..."
"Oh well, then...goodbye!"
(He zips back under the table)
"Well kids. It looks like we're running out of time for today, and I bet you're really going to like the next movie!"
Pooty: (From off camera) "Oh god, please let me die!"
Uncle Bob: It's a nice quiet family film called Salo: The 120 Days of Sodom. Sit your Grandma down for it, I'm sure she'll love it too! Ha HA! (Slams table again)
But first, a cartoon by Ricky Garduno called, Lil' Kimbo's First Day at School. Don't miss it or your parents will get eaten by wolves while you sleep tonight!"


You just don't know man, you just don't know. If you haven't been to one of the sundown clubs, you really haven't lived. Of course you have to be un-dead, or a werewolf, or a demon on vacation from Hell to get in. I wouldn't suggest just walking in unless you know you fit in, if you know what I mean. I've seen people try to do it though. Oh man, it's never pretty. They get lured in by the loud music and hot girls out front, the idiots. Usually those same girls take them to a back room and drain all their blood out. Or they get torn apart in the pit in front of the stage. Me though, they know me. I'm not one of them, but they respect me. Well, maybe respect isn't the greatest word for it. Fear is a much better word. I've got a reputation, and thats pretty much what keeps my ass from getting killed when I go to these dives. That and I'm very good at what I do. What do I do exactly? I'm a tracker. But not like in the olden days when all of the damn scum were tracked down and killed like they deserved to be. Nah, now that the laws are in place that say any creature has a right to a fair trial, like they're actually human, you have to be selective. Plus, now that they can multiply as much as they want, there's too damn many of them. Nah, I'm a bounty hunter. Vampires killed your dog? Your sister get turned into a werewolf? Got the money to pay? Then I'm your man. I've got centuries of tracker blood in my veins and I'm not going to waste it like my father did. No no, I make a good living off of what I do. Plus, It's a Hell of a lot of fun....

My favorite dive is a little place off of Fifth Avenue. There's a back alley way entrance by Rob's Pawn Shop, that's really hard to spot but if you squeeze in and walk till you see a pair of steps leading to a basement door, you've found it. They've got the best band around playing there every night from dusk till the sun comes up. They're called Horrorshow and they tear the roof off the place every time.
It's a good place to get information, usually just from listening to bar talk, but I have my contacts too. I'm working on a pretty high profile case right now. High profile for me anyways. See, the town's got a new mayor and he decided to start cracking down on all the crime the scum have been committing since the dive bars became legal. That wasn't a very smart idea. A lot of the clubs he closed down were operated by vampire and Hell demon Mafia's. They make a very good living off these places and weren't very happy when they got shut down. A few weeks after a high profile bust, his teenage daughter vanished from her bedroom. The way her bedroom window was torn apart, they suspect a werewolf. But werewolves are terrible climbers. It's obvious some creature did it, and thats why they hired me. Cause I'm the best.
So I was sitting at the bar, listening to the band warm up last night right? It was early yet and there were a few demons drinking god knows what at the bar, and a few people that smelled like werewolves milling around in the corner booths. I ordered a beer with no blood, you have to ask for it specifically, and was nursing it when she walked in. Goddamn. If I didn't know she was a vampire and basically dead from the neck down, I'd have been all over her. She was the lead singer of Horrorshow and her name was Riham: Six foot two inches of pale un-dead gorgeousness. She saw me and walked over.
"Hello Tracker," She purred in the thick Russian accent that made my heart pound. "You come just to get information for case? Or maybe just to hear us play? Or did you come just to see me?"
She put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed and I could feel her sharp nails dig into my skin. I had to keep reminding myself not to look her in the eyes.
"Oh Riham, you should know you're not going to get me in one of those back rooms."
"Oh come on baby," She cooed and put her arms around me. "Just one leetle kiss?"
"Get your fangs away from my neck and I'll buy you a drink." I said, pushing her away.
She sat down. "Silly boy, you can't resist me, no man can. It's just a matter of time..."
"Well, if I ever want to commit suicide, I'll come find you..."
We talked for a bit as she sipped her drink of rum and cow's blood. It's supposed to be cow's anyways. You never can tell in those places.
She excused herself and walked across the pit to where her band was noodling around. A skinny, well-horned demon walked through the door with two vamps on his arms, followed by a group of drunk young werewolves and a nasty looking river creature. This was going to be an interesting night, yes indeed...

Like I said, If you've never been to a Sundown club, you haven't lived. Or maybe I should have said, "You ain't seen crazy shit till you've seen 200 or so creatures of the night tearing each other apart in a mosh pit." It's mostly just the young ones that get into it. The old ones, the A vampires and scarred up old werewolves, they know better. They know that if you're going to live a couple hundred years, you should try to take care of your body at least a little bit. Of course, the demons don't give a shit since they can regenerate whatever they want.

I suppose I should talk a bit about the music scene in these clubs. It's the most underground music there can possibly be, since only trackers and insane thrill seekers ever get to hear it. You can buy bootlegs of the shows, but they're expensive and hard to come by. Plus, it's not the same as actually being there: hearing the screams of the mutilated above the shriek of guitars, the fetid stench of so many un-dead in one place, and the feeling of danger that comes rolling off the crowd. It's really something let me tell you...

The place filled up quickly that night, like it usually does, and I ordered another beer and took it to one of the booths on the side of the pit. The band hadn't started yet, even though the crowd was already looking restless and particularly angry that night. Full moons will do that.
Rec saw me and climbed down from the stage. Rec, the bands bassist and only human I know that's crazy enough to hang around with a bunch of un-dead freaks, is an old friend of mine. He used to be a tracker himself, but got a little too close to getting his throat ripped out one time and called it quits. I asked him once how hanging out with a vampire, a changeling, and a demon were any less dangerous than tracking, and he replied that he thought that by making friends instead of enemies in the night-world, he'd live longer. Rec's a nice guy, but not very bright.
He sat down in my booth and stole a slug from my beer.
"You're lucky you're my friend," I said and smiled, "If anyone else did that, I'd cut their head in half."
Rec laughed. "Someone did do that to you and you did cut their head in half remember? That stupid werewolf with the funny looking scar on his forehead?"
"Yeah well, that scar was an from an initiation into a rather nasty werewolf gang. I didn't have a very fun coupla months after that."
I pulled the sleeve of my leather jacket down and showed him the long jagged scars on my forearm.
"I had to kill every single one of those motherfuckers before they'd leave me alone, and didn't get a damn cent for it."
"It's gonna catch up with you man. You should get into the music me!" He smiled and pointed at himself like a two year old.
I laughed. "Can I ask you a question Rec?"
"No, I haven't seen Riham naked..."
"I was gonna ask how you can stand up there on that stage with no shirt on when you're about 3 feet away from a writhing mass of claws and fangs."
He laughed and got up to go back on stage. "I get hot up there! I'll see ya around man."
He started to go and stopped.
"Hey check it out, over in the corner. A vampires. Word must be spreading around about us eh? Welp, see ya around!"
He climbed back on stage and the band started on one last sound check. I looked slightly in the direction he had indicated. It was odd seeing A vampires in a dive club like this. They usually held their own private parties where they stood around drinking blood martinis and talking about the "good old days" when their powers were at their peak and they didn't have to survive on animal blood. I've crashed a few of those parties, they're rather pathetic.
It was mostly B and C vampires that came to these places and mostly Cs that went in the pit.
C vampires. The absolute scum of the earth. They're like insects, no matter how many you kill there's always more and no one's quite sure where they come from.
The brainless defilers of everything the new laws were set up for. If someone's found dead in an alleyway, it's almost always a C that did it. They're so much trouble that it's actually legal to kill them on sight.
One good thing about them though, they're easy to kill. A few good hacks with a machete and their heads come right off. They know they're safe in these clubs though, surrounded by their brothers of the night, as long as they don't try and interact with anyone outside of the pit. I saw a changeling turn into a panther and tear one apart one time for trying to seduce her into becoming his next meal. It was funny shit.

The band launched into it's first song and the place went wild, like it usually did. A scream rang out and I watched an arm fly up above the crowd, silhouetted by the low lights of the stage, before falling back down into the mass. Odd since it was kind of early for that sort of thing to happen. I guess the moon really did get to them that night. I sipped my drink and watched the chaos.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the group of A vampires. They didn't seem to be talking at all, they just sat and sipped their drinks. Finally one got up and walked over to my table. She was an alright looking vamp except for the fact that she only had one eye. I wondered how many years she'd been "alive." 300? 1000? It was hard to tell.
A voice spoke up from inside my head.
"Is this seat taken?"
It startled me. I had forgotten some of them had that power. It was a good thing too, I wouldn't have been able to hear her over the screaming guitar and pounding Hell drums.
I pushed a thought back.
"Well it was, but the guy can go to Hell."
An icy laugh and then:
"I've heard people say this world is Hell on earth."
"Depends on how you live. Sit down..."
"Thanks. You're a tracker aren't you?"
"How could you tell?"
"Well, the leather jacket is a dead giveaway. That and the fact that you're not dead."
"Maybe I'm just a random thrill seeker looking for kicks?"
"Maybe. How'd you like to go to a real party?"
"An A vampire party? No thanks, I've been to a few, not a lot of fun."
"Oh I know, but we're different. We know how to have a good time."
This was intriguing. Common sense said it was a bad idea, but I'd handled large crowds of vampires before. If they jumped me, I had my defenses. I pushed a thought back:
"Seems kinda dangerous for me to be walking into a vampires den isn't it?"
She gave me a coy look. "I thought you were a thrill seeker?"
Something flashed in her one good eye, that thing that all vampires do to lure in their prey. It was a dead giveaway that something was defiantly wrong with the whole thing, but I didn't care. It'd been so boring lately, I needed a challenge.
"Well, my lady, when are we going?"
"Right after this song. I love this one. I think it's called Lover's End."
All of Riham's shrieking sounded the same to me but I nodded.
"It's lovely."
After the song was over she introduced me to her group. A male and a female named Seroth and Sefer. Vampires always had the stupidest names. Hers was Kerren though, which I didn't mind so much. We walked out of the club into the cold late summer night. As we walked back down the alleyway, the music faded and was replaced with the mechanical chirping of crickets. I knew I might not live to see the sun rise but I felt more alive than I had in months....


We open on a suburban middle class house, clean, well furnished. The camera shows us several well kept rooms all with afternoon sunlight coming through the windows, all empty. It's all so perfect...
We cut to a shot of the front door looking down from the front hallway. After what sounds like someone fiddling with the lock, the door opens and a teen girl steps through. She's very young, about 14 or 15. She walks in, throws her book bag on the couch and goes into the kitchen.
We cut to the kitchen where the girl has a sandwich, chips, and a glass of milk.
We hear the door open and someone says
(Offscreen): Hello, anybody home?
Girl: I'm in the kitchen mom!
The door to the kitchen opens and a the "mom" comes in with several bags in her arms. She sets them down on the table.
Mom: How was your day honey?
Mom sits down at the table and steals a chip from the girls plate.
Girl: Oh, it was alright.
Mom: Just alright?"
Girl: Yeah, well, you know...
Mom: What'd you learn today?
Girl: (Through a mouthful of sandwich.) Stuff.
Mom: (With fake exasperation) Oh, you kids! (Laughs)
She reaches over and grabs one of the paper bags.
Mom: You'll like this. I know how much you like dolls and I saw this the flea market today and I just couldn't pass it up...
She reaches into the bag and pulls out a china doll. It's filthy, has one eye, and a large crack runs down the front of it's face.
Girl: Ew, mom! Why'd you buy that?
Mom: Don't you know? This is a Megan Ann doll, these are really hard to find! Even in this condition, It's still a collector's item!
Girl: I think it's kind of...creepy.
Mom: I think you need to stop reading all those horror books young lady!
Girl: I'm not keeping that in my room...
Mom: Of course not, it's going in the Doll room with the others.
The girl looks at her half eaten sandwich and pushes it away.
Mom: What's wrong?
Girl: I'm not as hungry as I thought I was.
Mom: Alright, I'll finish it. Waste not want not I always say! (Laughs)
The girl rolls her eyes and leaves the table.

We cut to the doll room, which is, of course, filled with dolls. The camera cuts to several close ups of various dolls around the room. A clock can be heard ticking. The door opens and the mother walks in. She sets the doll on an empty display stand and stands looking at it. The sun is starting to go down and the room is a bit dark. Mom looks a bit unnerved.
Mom (Quietly and a bit nervously): Alright, here's your new home Megan Ann. Now play nice with your new friends.
Close up on Megan Ann, shadows covering her face.
Mom leaves and closes the door. We stay in the room for a bit looking at the window and then cut to Megan Ann's cracked face. Then we cut too...

The Girl in pajamas brushing her teeth in the upstairs bathroom. She spits in the sink.
Mom (From behind): I'm going to bed honey. Don't stay up too late reading those spooky books. They're not good for you, you know!
Girl: I won't mom.
Mom: Well you.
Girl: Love you too mom.
Mom: Goodnight.
Girl: Night.
Mom: Don't let the bed bugs bite...
Girl: Oh mom, I'm not 5 anymore!
Mom: But you'll always be my little girl.
They hug. End scene. Open on...

An empty playground under a gray sky. The ground is covered in leaves. We cut to the slide and the swings moving in the breeze. The girl walks on screen, still wearing her pajamas. She seems to be in trance. She slowly walks up to the slide and puts her hand down on it. She lifts it looks at her hand. It's covered in blood. A voice calls out, sing-songy:
Voice: Jenifer (Giggly laugh.) Look behind you Jenifer...
The girl turns. We see a horrible lump of flesh supporting itself on the jungle gym. It looks sort of human but it has no eyes and it looks like it's joints are all unhinged. It lets go and walks/shuffles, with it's arms out towards the girl. She screams and...

Wakes up in bed, covered in sweat. For a second we see relief on her face but then we hear a door creak and a shuffling sound coming from outside her room. She throws the blankets aside and gets out of bed. Very slowly she opens the door and looks out into the hallway. It's empty. We can see a bit downstairs where a dim light is on as a night light. The girl pushes the door open and walks into the hallway.
She pushes open a door on the right side of the hall.
Girl (Softly): Mom?
We see the inside of the room, but it's too dark to make anything out.
Girl (Softly): Mom? I had a nightmare...
No answer. She flips on a light and her face turns pale.
We get a shot looking at the bed in the middle of the room. There's blood everywhere. Then we get consecutive fast cut close-ups that reveal that the mother has no head.
Cut back to the girl who screams loudly...

We're back in the doll room. It's dark but the moon is out and we can see a little bit. The camera slowly pans onto the doll stand we left earlier. It's empty. Fast cut to black.

The End


Who are we? We are employed by the Maldavian government. What do we do? We collect money for the Maldavian government. How do we do it? With extreme violence. I can't even count the number of legs I've broken or the teeth I've pulled and I'm the nice one. Vinny likes to burn things. and by things I mean testicles. It's his specialty.
Mark loves his acid. Not the kind you eat, the kind you pour on things to make them dissolve. He employs it quite effectively.
Needless to say, we are quite good at getting the governments money. At least we used to be. A wrench has been kind of thrown in the works. We're hiding out right now in a cave in the lower mountains. When you receive this dear Mary, please read it and burn the letter. Then eat the ashes.

So we were at this one guys house, out in the shit-heel barrens. Well, it wasn't really a house, it was more of a shack type of thing. The walls were tar-paper so we didn't knock on the door, we just lifted the whole thing up and threw it into the air. The guy was hunched over a pail doing his dirty business. We all laughed. The guy tried to get up to run but I got him around the neck with a bolo and he fell on the ground trying to get it off so he could breathe. We all just stood over him laughing as his face turned blue. We all laughed again.
"Heereffhalgaf!" Was his reply.
"What'd he say?" Said Vinny, looking at me, like I'd know.
I Stepped forward, put my foot on the poor sod's chest and pulled the bolo off.
"Hergeffen bastards!" He said, a volley of spittle flying from his mouth. "Look what yeh did to me home!"
"That wasn't your home old man," I said, "You were hiding out weren't you? You owe the government some money don't you?"
Mark, who got bored easily, was digging through some boxes in what used to be the south corner of the house.
The man strangely didn't look scared. "I don't have any money you stupid ijots! I don't have any! God fershuluggin murfegindin..."
I smiled. "Well, you must have something of value right? and besides, you were very late on your payments so you have to be punished. Now we'll read you your charges."
I snapped my fingers and Vinny produced a scroll from his side pouch. He unrolled it and read while I pressed down harder on the dirty old man's chest with my foot.
"You are hear-by charged with the crimes of not paying the government what you owe if for living on it's land. And evading capture. And insulting the King's wife in public. And exposing your genitals to school-children. And eating of the wrong kinds of plants in the forests outside of...
"I NEVER EXPOSED MESELF TO DEM KIDS! ME BATHROBE HAS HOLES IN IT..." The man yelled. I gave him swift kick to the face.
"Add interrupting a government official to that list Vinny." I said.
Vinny quickly scribbled it on the scroll and continued.
"And writing poetry of an unsavory character and dancing with the devil in the cold moonlight and..."
Mark yelled out "Ah, stop it already! Lets just get to the fun part! Look what I found!"
From behind a moldy old box he brought out a large metal club, full of nasty looking sharp spikes.
"You think the bastard was planning on using this on us?" Said Mark, marveling at the thing.
"You sons of bitches were supposed to knock on the door first! Dontcha have any manners atall?" Said the old man.
"Well, I guess we're supposed to..."
I gave Vinny a sharp look and he shut up.
I pulled the smelly old fart up by his beard and looked him right in the face. "So old man. Whats it going to be? Are you going to give us some compensation, or are we going to beat you to a bloody pulp?"
"I...I...I...I" He stuttered.
"Out with it!" I shouted, purposefully spitting in his face.
"I have something very valuable! In a cage in the north woods! If you let me go, I'll show you were it is!"
Mark came up behind him and smacked him in the back with the club. "Stupid old man. You'll lead us to it now or I'll dissolve your groin to nothing!"
"Fershinky save me!" Was the old man's reply...

So that was how we found the thing, sitting in a crude metal cage out in the woods behind the old man's shack, mewling like it wanted to be fed.
"Blimey!" Said Vinny, "Thats a baby Danker isn't it?"
"So it is," Said I, "where did you find this old man?"
"I uh, I got it at a garage sale!"
Mark hit the old man in the back with the club again and laughed. A strange look came into his eyes.
"I've got an idea! Lets feed the old man to the creature! It'll be jolly good fun."
The old man groaned from the ground in protest.
I shrugged my shoulders. "Eh, why not? We'll say the thing ate him before we got here."
Vinny looked depressed. "Aw, I wanted to burn something!"
"Well, you'll get your chance at the next house Vinny! Don't worry!"
Vinny looked happy again. "Hooray!" He jumped up and down and clapped his hands. Vinny was a rather large man, but he was a man of simple pleasures. make a long story short we fed the old man to the baby. First we knocked him out with the club then we threw him in the cage.
Dankers are fascinating creatures. They're very large, even as infants, very red, and they're always hungry. They mostly live on a diet of Hogswaths in the Maldonian plains in the South Hemisphere. It was very strange to find one here. It was a lot of fun to watch it eat, with it's three rows of grinding teeth and knife-like tongue. It made quick work of the stringy old man. When it was done, it lay on the ground and flicked it's three arms in front of it's compound eyes and squealed contentedly.
"What are we going to do with it boss?" Said Vinny.
"Well, we have to bring something back as compensation, right? These things are very valuable and hard to catch...."
Mark spoke up. "I don't like this, there's something strange about all of it..."
"Ah, shut up Mark, you talk too much. Help me lift up this cage. It's a long walk back to the truck..."

We were doing alright till we hit the first bump in the road. Mark was in the back, holding the cage because we didn't have any straps to tie it down with. We hit the bump, the front end of the truck flew up in the air, and we heard mark scream.
I pulled the truck over and we got out. I couldn't help but notice what a nice day out it was. We were parked by a grassy field, the birds were singing, the crickets were chirping merrily, and Mark now had one less hand.
"Holy lizard Jesus!" Said Vinny.
The Danker was rolling around in it's cage, and it sounded like it was laughing. Mark was crying.
"What am I going to do now? I'm a freak! GIVE ME BACK ME HAND!" He screamed at the cage. I slapped him hard across the face.
"Get a hold of yourself man! Nows no time to panic!"
"It's the perfect time to panic! Do you know what happens when you get bit by a Danker and live? I...oh God, it's starting!"
Suddenly Mark jumped off the truck and ran screaming down the road. We stood looking down the road for a bit. Vinny broke the silence.
"Well, don't that beat all..."

We didn't want to risk either one of us getting bit, so we carefully rolled the thing into the ditch and drove away. We drove along in silence for a long while.
"What..." Vinny started.
"It's a long drive back to headquarters Vin, we'll think up something to tell the bosses."
We didn't make it halfway back...

This cave is cold but at least it's easy to block the entrance. It's hard for a normal person to get through, it'll be even harder for the bloated thing that Mark became. The first time we saw it, we had camped out in this old run down house for the night. Right before sundown Vinny saw it lurching down the road, a hideous blob of muscle and teeth, supported by two legs still wearing Mark's shoes and the bottom of his pants. It stopped and smelled the air and screamed. Then it ran lurching towards the house and we booked it, not even bothering with the truck. We ran through the woods and found this cave. We know it's out there. We also know that eventually we're going to need food. I suppose we'll just have to draw straws to decide which one of us gets to eat the other one....
I love you Mary. Please take care of little Johnny and if the Hal next door starts hitting on you, tell him my ghost will kick his ass. Oh God, it's right outside! It's trying to force its way in! ARRRGGGH!!!!

"He actually wrote ARRRGGGH?" Biddy Marcelen sipped her tea and showed no emotion, as was usual. Mary sighed.
"Yes, my husband was always one for dramatics." Wendy spoke up in a timid voice.
" you think any of it is true?" She took a delicate bite of cookie.
"Well, the police did find a good lot of blood in the cave. Strangely, there's none on the note...."
"I bet the creature has an enormous you know what..." Said Maggie McGee and everyone of the women in the drawing room laughed.
"I hope it comes over soon, I'm dying for some action." Said Mary, causing Biddy to snort Earl Gray out of her nose.
Birds chirped outside and the sun shone brightly. Down the road, at the end of Suburban drive, about a mile away, a skateboard and a bloody baseball cap sat in the ditch. And in the woods lurked something distinctly inhuman, heading towards the house where the women sat and gossiped...


"So...uh Bill?"
"Yeh Jeb?
"So tell me again why you bought this camera?"
"Why's you think Jeb? We's a-gonna make a movie!"
"Oh, okay..."
They were standing in front of Bill's trailer. His wife had just left him and had taken all thirteen of the kids and they both had no jobs. They had been sitting around drinking beer and trying to think of something to do when Bill had just gotten up and they had driven to Wal-mart and bought the cheapest camera they could find.
Jeb stood picking his nose while Bill tried to get the tripod set up.
"So, uh...Bill?"
"Yeah Jeb?"
"What is we going to make a movie of?"
"Well Jeb, ya know dem porno movies?"
Jeb looked scared.
"I ain't a gonna have sex with..."
"No no, you ijit! If you'd let me finish, I was gonna say 'you know dem porno's right? Well, they have sex, all real like right? Well, we're gonna do something else all real like. Just a second, all be right back."
And with that he ducked into the trailer.
It seemed like he was gone a long time. Jeb stood and picked his nose and shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was about to go over and mess with the camera when Bill came barging out of the trailer door and almost fell down the steps.
"Yee-ha! I found it!"
"Found whut?" Jeb said, suspicious.
"Now, now don't you worry bout that, just stand in front of the camera and do what I tells you to do."
"What if I don't want to?"
Bill but his hand on his head and scowled.
"Jeb, remember when we was at that bar last week and you insulted Jeff Gordon?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Do you remember what I did?"
Jeb looked scared.
"Uh, yeah, sure Bill, I'll do whatever you want. I'm you're friend right?"
Bill smiled. "You sure are Jeb, You sure are..."

It was night when they finished filming. Bill had thought his wife would come back to get some things, but she never did. That was fine, Bill thought he could sell some of it and make a quick buck. It was all junk anyways. It took him a bit to figure out how to get the camera hooked up to the TV, but he wasn't so dumb, and he got it eventually. Then he settled down in his recliner with a beer and watched...

The first pistol shot had dropped Jeb to the ground pretty quickly. It had hit him in the upper thigh, even though Bill had meant to hit him in the shin. It was still a great moment though. Bill rewound it and paused so he could savor the look of surprise on Jeb's face. He laughed and started the movie again.
He hadn't thought Jeb would have so much blood in him. He was pretty scrawny and Bill was amazed by how quickly it pooled on the ground. As he watched himself on the TV, cutting Jeb's fingers off, he lamented the fact that he didn't have another person to work the camera. He had been trying to work quickly and didn't have a lot of time to set the shot up properly. At least you could see it though, even if the shot was static. Bill's hunting knife had cut through the meat pretty well, but he had to break the bones. It was hard work, but it was worth it. The film was beautiful. Award winning even. Bill smiled as the zoom-in showed the ragged ends of flesh and bone on Jeb's hand. Jeb was still alive at that point, but he didn't have much fight left. Must have been all that blood that leaked out of him. It also might have been the ribs that had cracked while Bill held him down with a boot on his chest. Bill smiled wider. The best part was coming up! Bill had ran inside to grab his shot gun quickly. He had wanted Jeb to still be alive for this...

The first thing that Becky noticed when she pulled up to the trailer and got out of the truck was the smell. It was an odd coppery sort of smell and not very pleasant. The second thing she noticed was the odd stain on the ground, a dark black under the single light above the door. Oh well, she thought. Whatever Bill did with his free-time now was none of her business. She just wanted to get a few toys the kids couldn't live without, and scoot. She walked up the steps and opened the door...

The shotgun blast had obliterated Jeb's head in one single shot. It was beautiful. Bill rewound it over and over. He laughed and snorted his beer. What a shot! What a movie! The snake inside of his jeans pushed against his zipper and he let it out, rubbing it with one hand, and rewinding the movie with the other. He reached over and got some lube from the seat next to him...

At first Becky's mind couldn't fix on what she was seeing. There was Bill sitting in front of the TV, like usual. And he was jerking it to something on the TV, like usual. But he was covered in an odd red-black substance. And the trailer was full of that odd coppery smell that she had smelled outside. And what was that in the other chair? Suddenly it all snapped together and Becky knelt over and threw up.

Bill heard her come in, throw up, and leave. He didn't care. He heard her truck back down the drive and he came into his hand.
"Hey, Jeb old buddy? You want some of this?"
He reached over offered it to the corpse in the seat next to him.
"Oh, thats right. You ain't got no head!" Bill laughed until his stomach hurt. On the TV, he was having sex with Jeb's neck-hole. He frowned. Damn, if only he had had a second camera person. The angle was all wrong again...


Jimmy Pushover sat at his desk inputting data into the companies computer system. That was his entire job, ten hours a day, six days a week, typing numbers off pieces of paper into the computer system. Jimmy didn't like it much, but it paid the bills. It also gave him money to pursue his hobby: masturbating to violent morally reprehensible porn. But that has nothing to do with the story. It's called character development, it doesn't have to have anything do with the main plot, give me a break! Sheesh...
Well, anyways, one day Jimmy was inputting data into the computer like any other day when he suddenly felt strange. His head felt like it was floating near the ceiling and his hands were suddenly miles away from his body. He walked out of his cubicle down to the unisex bathroom down the hall. As he stared into the mirror and rubbed his hands over his face trying to feel something, anything, Mary from accounting walked out of one of the bathroom stalls. Jimmy wanted to do horrible things to her body, even though she was built like a linebacker and wore a horrible business suit with large shoulder pads. Jimmy liked his women large and in charge.
She looked at him strangely, then shook her head and walked out. Jimmy was filled with rage and inhibited lust! He screamed:
"Get back here you fire breathing whore!"
And to his surprise, she did. She stood in front of him like a zombie, slightly swaying back and forth.
Holy shit! Thought Jimmy. Am I dreaming?
"What is thy bidding my master?" Said Mary in her husky, almost man's voice.
"Ummm...ummm...take your clothes off!" Jimmy screamed.
"As you wish." Was her unemotional reply.
Jimmy had never seen such large thighs in his life, and such wide hips! He quivered with delight and went to grab her large but very firm breasts.
"Oh mama!" He said as he groped her.
"Mama?" Said Mary, "Is that my name? It is strange..."
"Oh no! I didn't mean that, shit!"
"As you wish..."
Mary squatted down and did her dirty business on the floor. Jimmy was repulsed, but slightly turned on.
Just then the big boss, Robert Bigman, burst through the bathroom door, his eyes going wide at the strange sight before him.
"What in the holy name of Hell is going on here?" Was all he could stammer out, his large mustache bristling.
Jimmy tried to think quick, but thinking really wasn't his strong point.
"Fuck you!" Was all he that came to mind to say.
"Who shall fuck me?" Said his now submissive boss.
"Who cares? Just get out of here!" Yelled Jimmy.
"I shall find someone to fuck me..." Said Bigman, and turned and walked out the door.
"Now, where were we?" Said Jimmy, rubbing his hand together.
"I was defecating on the floor like you told me too." Said Mary.
"Well, stop that. Now I want you too..."
Jimmy's evil schemes were interrupted by loud screaming coming from down the hall. He ignored it.
"Now, as I was saying, I want you to..."
Suddenly Finkleman from distribution burst in the door.
"Run for your life! The boss has gone crazy he's trying too..."
"Go fuck yourself Finkleman!" Shouted Jimmy, something he'd always wanted to say.
"Yes, my master..."
Jimmy covered his eyes but could not block out the horrible sounds as Finkleman carried out his orders...

Jimmy woke up under his desk. He could see a pair of neatly pressed trouser legs from where he was laying. He stood up.
"Sleeping again, eh Pushover? Thats the third time this week! Tell me why I shouldn't fire you?"
"Go fuck yourself!" Shouted Jimmy.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Shouted his boss so loudly that the cubicle walls shook.
"I, uh, I said good luck yourself..."
Bigman fumed, his face red, steam shooting out of his ears.
"I want you out of this office now! Get out before I kill you!"
Jimmy ran down the hall and down the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him.

That night at home he didn't even have the heart to put on his new Brazilian horse show video. He sat all alone in his closet and cried till he eventually died of starvation.
The End.

On the TV a group of poorly drawn cartoon animals were riding bikes and skateboards down a roller coaster ramp. I guess the ad guys were trying to make them cool and "extreme" to appeal to our age demographic, but nobody I knew wore fucking shoulder pads and helmets. The poorly drawn cartoon monkey flew off a ramp and landed in front of a poorly drawn elephant who squeezed a packet of yogurt onto his face, which the monkey then licked off. The hidden implications of this action were not lost on me, I assure you. Then the news switched back on, hosted by some Asian lady and a black guy who was trying way too hard to be white. Everyday we have to watch this junk, a few past relevant news items sandwiched between loud commercials for candy and soda. It's called Channel Uno. I call it Channel Bullshit. Sometimes we even have to write papers about it, which pisses me off to no end.
I looked around the room. Everyone was staring at the screen, eyes transfixed with almost frightening intensity at this obvious and insulting marketing ploy. It made me feel a little sick so I went back to sketching in my notebook.
I drew a picture of the monkey from the ad, but instead of a yogurt squirting elephant's trunk, I drew a penis shooting splooge. Then I started drawing monsters and deformed babies, my two favorite subjects. I got a pretty good creature started, with huge teeth dripping with slime and segmented bug's eyes when my notebook was pulled out from under my hands, leaving a large pencil gash across the page. I looked up into the face of Mrs. Friedman, our homeroom slave-master. I made a pissed off face, which I hoped meant "You better give me back my notebook before I get mad" but I guess she didn't get the signal. She pointed towards the TV.
"No drawing. Watch Channel Uno."
Then she walked up to the board and put another mark next to my name. I had three already, two more and I'd get a detention. Detention at our school is actually pretty strict. You sit in a room and stare straight ahead and you're barley allowed to move at all. I skipped out on my last two though with no consequences. I don't think they even take attendance.
I watched as she walked back to her desk with my notebook and threw it next to a stack of papers.
"I said watch the TV!" She yelled at me. "Don't make me put another mark next to your name!" Then she sat down and opened a romance novel.
I leaned back in my chair and daydreamed that I had a baseball bat and was smashing the TV to little pieces...

Rob was waiting for me by my locker, like usual. Rob was weird as shit and I didn't trust him all that much but I didn't really have any other friends at that point, and I don't think he did either, so we were kind of pity friends I guess.
"The fuck's the matter with you?" Was his greeting. Rob liked to swear a lot, even around teachers. He really didn't give a shit.
"What?" I grabbed my Sociology book and notepad and rooted around for a pen in the junk at the bottom of my locker.
"What do you mean what? You're fucking scowling, thats what."
"Don't I always scowl?"
"Yeah, but this is a deeper scowl. Plus you look like you want to kill small furry woodland animals."
"That bitch took my notebook. Fucking stuck up whore." I stood up and slammed my locker shut.
Rob laughed that annoying high pitched laugh of his.
"Friedman? You shouldn't be mad about that. You can just go in and get it back yourself. She doesn't lock the door when she goes to lunch, everyone knows that."
"I didn't."
"That's because you're a fucking moron."
"Yeah well your mom's a whore."
"Well your dad's a whore and he likes it sideways!"
That made me laugh, like it always did. At least Rob was good for something. The bell was about to ring.
"I tell you what." Rob said, "I'll skip PE Class and go with you at lunch to get your notebook back, sound good?"
Knowing Rob, it wasn't going to be good at all, but I nodded.
Rob smiled. "Kewl, see ya around, clown!" And took off for whatever class he had. I wasn't even really sure Rob went to class at all. I swore one time I saw him walking down the street one day at four in the afternoon on a Tuesday...

I met Rob in the lunchroom. He already had a tray of food which was miraculous since lunch had just started about five minuets ago and the line was already long.
"Where the Hell'd you get that?" I said, pointing at his tray.
"Blew the lunchlady." He said and popped a handful of tater-tots into his mouth.
"Waff fiss!" He said through a mouthful fried potato and hucked a tater-tot over my head. I turned quick and watched as it sailed through the air and hit a nerdy freshman sitting at the far table on the top of the head. He gave a rather loud yelp and dropped his grilled cheese into his soup. I shouldn't have laughed since it was so damn mean, but the kid's reaction was priceless. Rob was in hysterics, laughing his head off and spitting chunks of chewed potato all over his plate.
"How the Hell can you do that man? The principal is standing right by the door."
"Simple my dear Watson!" He said in a mock serious voice. "I just don't give a fuck!" Then he laughed and then proceeded to stuff the rest of his food into his soup.
"Let's get the fuck out of this rat hole" Rob said and stood up. The principal was eyeing us we walked out. His bald head gleamed and I had a vision of stuffing it into a toilet and flushing. It made me smile...

Our school is small, just two floors and no one is supposed to be on the second floor between classes, so we had to be quiet. Mrs. Friedman's classroom is at the end of the hallway, so we didn't have to pass any other rooms. Right across from it is a supply closet. Just like Rob said, the door was unlocked.
With the light off and the blinds closed, the room was dim, but we could still see fine. I always like how the light filters through the cheap cloth blinds on all the classroom windows. In fact, I like it better than the cold soul killing fluorescent lights the teacher's usually insist stay on all the time.
I found my notebook in the garbage. The bitch had dumped her coffee on it and there was a wad of gum stuck to the back. I riffled through it. It might have been a cheap notebook, but the cover had saved most of my drawings from ruin.
Rob was standing over by Mrs. Friedman's desk.
"Lets see what we got in here!" Said Rob, a bit too loudly.
"I got my notebook, lets get out of here!" I whispered.
Rob answered by opening a drawer and riffling through it. He tried the one under it but it was locked. I walked over to where he was standing.
"Watch this shit, I learned this off the Internet!"
He opened up the drawer directly beneath Mrs. Friedman's chair and pulled out a paper-clip. He unbent it, stuck it in the lock, and started wiggling it up and down.
"Are you fucking crazy? Do you know how much trouble we could get in, lets get out of here!" I whispered.
"Shhhh!" Was his reply, with his finger on his mouth like I was a little kid.
I didn't think he could do it, but sure enough, he got it open. We stared in disbelief at the drawers contents.
Rob laughed and smiled so wide I thought his face was going to split open.
"Holy friggin' shit!" He said and pulled the huge package of tampons out of the drawer.
"Extra wide for extra heavy flow..." Rob read and muffled a laugh by putting his hand over his mouth.
I laughed a bit too. "Alright, put it back and lets get..."
"Lets see what else is in here..." Rob knelt down and started rummaging though the papers at the bottom of the drawer."
"Rob," I said agitated and genuinely nervous, "She's going to come back any time now..."
"Holy jumping banana Christ on a corndog, look what I found!" He stood up and held the object in front of his face. In the dim light I couldn't quite make out what it was. At first I thought it was a dildo, which didn't make a whole lot of sense, but then Rob flipped a switch and a blade flicked out of the handle. My jaw just about hit the floor.
"Why the Hell would Mrs. Friedman have that?" I asked and took the switchblade to inspect it.
Rob shrugged his shoulders. "Heck if I know, she probably took it from some kid."
"Yeah, but wouldn't she have called the police?"
Rob shrugged his shoulders again and grabbed it back. "Before we go, there's one more thing I want to do..."
He walked back over to the desk and before I even heard his zipper open I knew what he was going to do. My stomach flew up into my throat.
"Rob you fucking idiot, you stupid fucking..." I whispered, rage filling up my head till I couldn't see straight.
Rob smiled and laughed a quiet lunatics laugh. When he was done pissing in the drawer he stuffed the tampons back and locked it back up with the paperclip. Then we got the Hell out, not even looking to see if any teacher's were coming down the hall. Stupid, so fucking stupid. I was scared and angry though, and Rob just really didn't care....

I met Rob out on the football field bleachers after school. I sat and stared at the ground while Rob laughed like a loon.
"You fucking idiot.." Was all I could get out.
"Would an idiot have gotten this?" He laughed and pulled the switchblade out of his pocket.
"You fucking moron," I yelled "Put that damn thing away before you get us both expelled!"
Rob laughed again and I struggled with my urge to punch him out. "You're too uptight man, you've got to learn to relax. High school's a fucking joke, It's just that no one seems to realize it but me."
"You're a real Einstein Rob."
Fall was just starting and it was still a little warm out, but just starting to get cold. The wind was icy and it blew right though my thin jacket. I shivered and pulled my hands into my sleeves.

They never did find out who pissed in Mrs. Friedman's desk, even with all the threats the principal gave over the schools speaker system and Tiffany, the head cheerleader's pleas for whoever did it to come forward at various assemblies. Homeroom moved into the library till they got the room sanitized and Mrs. Friedman's new desk came in. I'm not a huge fan of the school library, but it was better than sitting in a classroom. For one thing, there was no TV to stare at. For another, I could sit at one of the back tables and draw and generally no one bothered me. Then we moved back in and it was brain-washing time all over again.
Rob moved away that summer but before he did he came over to my house and we had Mario Kart battles in the basement. It was strange since he came out of the blue and we hadn't been seeing much of each other since Christmas break.
After we got tired of Nintendo we sat and made fun of the stupid junk on MTV. After awhile our riffs got fewer and fewer and an awkward silence settled. Rob broke it, but he didn't sound like his usual crazy self. I could be wrong, trying to look back on it and all, but to me he sounded scared. I had never heard him like that and it unnerved me.
"I wanna give you somethin' man. Here."
He pulled the switchblade out of his pocket and handed it to me across the couch. I looked at it, a dark black handle with grips on one side. It was heavier than I remembered.
"The switch is on the bottom, keep the blade side away from your hand."
I hit the switch and the blade swung out.
"Look at the blade man. Look at it real close." Rob said in that strange half strangled voice.
"Jesus Rob, did you cut yourself with this?"
"No, that ain't my blood man. When I got home that day, and I could really look at the thing, that's when I noticed it."
There was quite a bit of darkish dried blood stuck to the edge of the knife, I wondered why neither of us had noticed it before. It was down in the knife dock too. And something else...
I pulled out a long blonde hair that was stuck at the bottom. Rob didn't seem to notice. He just sat and stared at the TV. I swear he looked pale, but that might just be my imagination distorting things. After awhile neither of us said anything and he just got up and left with a half-hearted "See ya around man." I listened to him walk up the steps and heard the door close. I've never felt so alone as I did at that moment. It was a feeling like everyone in the world had suddenly vanished and I was the only one left. I turned off the TV and the lights and walked up stairs to make a sandwich and wait for Mom to come home. I put the knife in the trash, stuffed it way down at the bottom and sat at the table, looking out the window into the backyard. The sun was just starting to go down and the crickets chirped their songs to the coming night.
I never saw Rob again.


Rob hated winter. He hated it with every ounce of his being. He stamped his feet and rubbed his gloved hands together and stared up at the dim gray sky. He looked at his watch. It was two in the afternoon already, where the Hell was she?
Oh Angie, he thought, you're always late for everything, even things you set up yourself. Despite being frozen solid already, having trekked almost three miles through the woods to get here, he really wasn't mad at her. He never could be, even when she did the dumbest shit. Like that time they were at the movies and she dumped her soda on his lap. Or the time they had snuck into a bar and she almost got him killed after she said something to a group of guys in dirty trucker hats. Nah, it just made him love her more. Sweet Angie, he had missed her a lot latley. Rob rubbed his hands together again and paced around the lot...
The place Angie had agreed to meet him at was right off the highway. It was a popular meeting/makeout place commonly known as The Cheese Factory, since it was the parking lot of an old abandoned building who's original purpose it was said, was to make cheese. No one was really sure if that was true, but that's what everyone called it. It was a good place to meet up since it was just a bit off the highway, but still far enough down a dirt road and to give some privacy. It also helped that it was surrounded by woods on all sides.
Rob had walked here simply because he had no vehicle. His parents were too poor to afford to buy him one and he was never one for working his fingers to the bone at some minimum wage job to afford one. He never really regretted it, except for times like these. He looked at his watch again. Two fifteen. The wind tore at his thin jacket and he wondered how long he could hold out. He sighed. Time to take shelter in the factory. It probably wouldn't be any warmer, but at least there wouldn't be any wind....
The Cheese Factory was a medium size one room building which had survived the ravages of time by way of it's being brick. Lots of people came in here to make out (and do other things), but Rob really didn't understand how they could since it smelled like every old person's house he'd ever been in. There were several pieces of heavy old machinery scattered around, and Rob sat on what looked like a conveyor belt. From his vantage point he could see a moldy mattress someone had thrown in the far corner, surrounded by used condoms and beer cans. He frowned. Dammit Ang, whatever you wanted to get me out here to tell me, it had better be worth it, he thought and turned to face the window to watch for her car...
Rob was deep inside his head when she pulled up, fighting demons in a story he made up to amuse himself when he got bored. When she honked her horn he jumped up and met her outside. His heart almost skipped a beat when he saw her. He always forgot how pretty she was, the blonde hair she could never keep out of her face and those green eyes that seemed to look right through him. He did still love her, despite what she did to him.
"Hi Rob, I'm sorry I'm late. I really didn't think you'd show up. Where's your truck?"
"Don't have it anymore, remember?" He put his hands in his pockets and tried not to look at her face.
"Oh jeez, you didn't walk here did you?
"That's almost three miles!"
"Yeah, I know."
"Get in the car, friggin' crazy..."
Neither one of them said anything for what seemed like an eternity. Rob took off his gloves and warmed his hands on the heater air coming out of the dashboard. It felt like a million pins were being stuck in them at once. Angie broke the silence like she always did.
"Rob, I really wanted to say that that I'm sorry. I know this is kind of a weird place to meet up, but if I went over to your house you'd just shut the door in my face. And don't say you wouldn't, you know you would. And you wouldn't answer my damn phone calls!" Rob stared out the window.
"Is that all you wanted say?"
"I just...I just want to apologize and hear you say that you forgive me..."
Angie sounded like she was going to cry. Rob still couldn't turn to look at her.
"You know you put me through Hell right? Do you know how much it fucking hurt me to see you...I don't want to go back to it Ang. I don't want to re-live that."
Angie was in tears now.
"Well I'm fucking sorry alright? It was just turned into a completely different person, what I was supposed to do?"
Rob finally turned and looked at her.
"I still loved you Ang, I told you that! And you ripped my heart out and you think just because you say you're sorry, that makes it all better? Well fuck you! I'm not a damn pushover..."
"And I told you not to call me Robert. My mother calls me Robert..."
For awhile neither one spoke and the only sound was Angie's sobs and the wind blowing outside the car. Finally she turned, her face streaked with tears.
"Get out." She whispered. "GET OUT! GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!" She yelled and pounded on the steering wheel. Rob didn't say a word, just climbed out of the car, back into the frigid winter afternoon.
For awhile nothing moved. Rob stood outside the car and it stayed parked. Even the wind seemed to die down, it was like time was suddenly frozen. Then Rob closed his eyes and when he opened them, the car was gone. He laughed and looked down at his hands. The fact that they were covered in blood didn't phase him like it used to. The first time it had happened it had scared the shit out of him, but now it was just an everyday thing. He closed his eyes again and when he opened them it was gone. He laughed again and jumped up and down. He put his hands in his pocket and grabbed the switchblade inside, feeling it's weight. This object that had come into his hands by fate, this simple thing had changed the course of his life, and he reveled in it. He ran around the lot till he was hot and tired and then calmly walked into the woods. There was a certain spot he had to visit before he went home, but he could take his time. It wasn't like anyone was waiting for him.
As he walked he sang: "With no loving in our souls and no money in our coats, you cant say we're satisfied..."


"Goddamn it Ethel, I'm tired!"
Ethel looked up from her tarot cards but didn't say anything. She gathered up the cards she had on the table and reshuffled them, this time laying them in a diamond pattern. She mumbled to herself as she flipped cards over and set other cards on top from the deck in her hand. Fred shook his head and got up and went to the kitchen to get a beer. He was about to go back into the dining room but decided against it and shuffled to the living room to watch Wheel of Fortune. He gulped his beer, scratched his gut, farted, and settled in like on a usual weekday night, but he couldn't concentrate. Not even the usually arousing sight of Vanna in a dress could take his mind off his wife, sitting alone in the kitchen with her weird cards and magic medallions. Ever since she had bought that crap off the Home Shopping Channel, it was all she did. Her friends were into it too. The old bags came over on Friday night and instead of canasta or bridge, they traded prophecies and messed around with that damn board. What was it called again? Fred could never quite remember. Veegee? What ever it was, it sounded foreign, which made him like it even less, if that were possible. He was damn tired of it. One of these days, he thought, one of these days I'll just throw that stuff in the old oil drum out back and watch it burn. Pat Sajak smiled as if in agreement and urged an Air Force Sargent to spin the wheel. Fred chugged the rest of his beer and drifted off to sleep.

He woke from a horrible dream in which his head was in a vice and someone was trying to handsaw it off and got up and walked over to the clock on top of the TV. 9:00 AM, it informed him. Shit, he thought, good thing I don't have a job to get to anymore. His stomach rumbled.
"ETHEL!" He yelled. "ETHEL! Where's my damn breakfast!"
No one answered. Fred shuffled into the kitchen and steadied himself by holding onto the fridge. Just walking around the house was getting to be a chore. He looked down at the gut hanging out of the bottom of his stained wife-beater. Time to stop eating at Charlie's, he thought and pushed it out of his mind. Where the Hell is my damn wife? He thought.
"ETHEL, GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE NOW I NEED..." That was when he noticed the note on the kitchen counter, a yellow triangle situated on top of an empty plate. He shuffled over to it, grabbed it with a meaty paw and read:
"Gone to book club meeting and shopping with the girls. Be gone most of the day. Hotdogs are in the fridge, you should know how to cook those. If not there's cereal and milk in the fridge to hold you over till I get back.

PS. I took the car. Sorry, Linda's was broken down again."
Fred stared down at the not in disbelief. Gone all day? Took the car? Hot dogs? COLD CEREAL? His mind whirled. Ethel had never done anything like this before. It wasn't how a wife as supposed to act. He crumpled the note in his hand and dropped it on the floor. He grimaced and wrung his hand together. When she gets back, he thought, when she gets back she's going to get it, oh is she ever going to get it.
He had only ever hit her twice back when they were just married and she tried to smoke in his car. He hated cigarettes and he told her right out that he wasn't going to live in house full of smoke. A few days later he had caught her smoking outside and knocked her to the ground. She had cried and but otherwise kept quiet and in a few minuets she was fine. She certainly hadn't ever smoked again, at least not that he knew of. She was a good wife, a bit daft in the head, but subservient just like she was supposed to be. Well at least till she had ordered those damn cards off the TV...
Fred smiled. She was going to be gone the entire day eh? That was perfect. It was all the time he needed to find where she hide her freaky fortune-telling garbage and get rid of it. With fire. Fred liked fire. He liked burning things, but never got a chance to do much of it, especially not latley. He rummaged a kitchen mess drawer till he found an ancient looking book of matches and stuffed them in his sweat-pants pocket. Now where could those cards be?
The first place he looked was the kitchen, not only because it was where he was currently located, but it was also the last place she'd think he'd look. As he knelt down and rummaged underneath the sink, ignoring the pain in his back, the thought came to him that maybe she could have taken them with her. He stood up too fast and almost fainted from lightheadedness. Maybe, but it still could be worth it to look. He shuffled off to the living room...
Not under the couch or loveseat or any of the chairs. Not underneath the TV stand. He even tested a few bricks in the fireplace to see if they'd move, even though he knew it was a stupid thing to do. When he was sure they weren't in the living room he trekked up-stairs...
She could have hid them in Don's old room but he was pretty sure she wouldn't. Neither of them had been in there since the letter had come in the mail from the Government about Don being a hero and bravely serving his country. Nah, going in there would ruin her. The guest bedroom maybe? He'd save that for last. Lightly leaning his weight on the wall he shuffled to their bedroom at the end of the hall...

The bedroom looked like a storm had hit it. Fred had taken everything out of the closet and thrown it onto the floor. The contents of both of their dressers were scattered everywhere. Then he had ripped the bed apart and looked for a slit in the mattress where she could have been putting them. Nothing. Nothing in the whole damn room. He sighed and sat down on the floor. At least cleaning up the mess would keep her occupied and would let her know that he meant business. His eye fell on something sticking out from under the bed. He leaned over and pulled out a wooden back-scratcher. His eyes lit up. Of course! How could he be so stupid? The most obvious place to hide something! He got down on his stomach and look into the darkness...

The only other thing besides dust bunnies and an old pair of Fred's underwear residing in the dusty confines was an oblong box. He pulled it out, and sat up with the box in his lap. The cover wasn't dusty at all. He tried to read the name out loud. "O-ujeejah." "Oujee-a fuck this shit." The sound of his voice in the empty house startled him for reasons he couldn't comprehend. It was just suddenly too quite, he could even hear the grandfather clock ticking in the downstairs living room. He took the top off the box and pulled out the board. Just a bunch of numbers and letters on it. How the fuck were you supposed to play a board game with no squares on it? He looked in the box for some dice and pulled out an oddly shaped piece of plastic that had three legs and a hole in the top. He frowned. "This shit that Ethel's into is weirder than I thought." He said out loud again, more unnerved by the silence than ever. Oh well, the board would burn very nicely, yes indeed. He threw the board off his lap and tried to stand up, using the bed for support he managed to get almost fully upright before a twinge up pain ran up spine and radiated all through his body. It was the worst pain he had ever felt in his life, worse than when he had been in that bar fight when he was 20 and had gotten hit on the head with a whiskey bottle that refused to break. This was a crippling pain, one that announced itself whenever he tried to move. Fred slumped to the floor in agony...

To Fred it seemed like he had lain on the floor for an eternity waiting for Ethel to come home. He watched a beam of sunlight from the window as it moved across the ceiling. It took him back to when he was a kid and he used to just lie on the floor when no one was home and watch the day go by. It was a peaceful comforting memory and he slipped into it like it was a warm bath. He was almost asleep when a noise woke him and he sat up too quickly and his back screamed in pain. When he was sure he wasn't going to pass out, he opened his eyes and saw that the weird plastic thing had moved. It was on the left side of the board, now it was on top of it. Very carefully he moved his body around so he was lying on his stomach, facing the board. He propped himself up on one elbow and stared at the pale yellow board.
The plastic thing was resting on the middle of the board between the letters and numbers. Slowly, testing to see how his back would re-act, he got into a sitting position so he could see the thing better. "What the Hell," He thought and reached out to grab the plastic thing. As his fingers brushed it, it did a half spin and ended up pointing towards the number six. Fred laughed despite the pain. Damn crazy thing, he thought, must be magnets in it or something. Before it could move again he grabbed the plastic piece and held it with both hands like he had seen his wife do the few times he had crashed her " crazy old biddies" party to get to the kitchen for more beer. He remembered her asking it questions...
"What is my wife doing right now?" He asked out loud.
The piece started to move while Fred stared wide-eyed.
C-A-R-D-S. It spelled out.
"Well I'll be goddamned." He said softly and laughed.
"Are you alive?"
The piece moved first from "yes" and then to "no" before stopping.
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
D-E-A-D. The board replied.
Fred took his hands off the piece and stared at the board, suddenly shaken. This wasn't right, what kind of board game did...then he mentally slapped himself. It's a stupid board game, he thought and picked up the box. It's made by Parker Brother's for Christs sake. He threw the box into the far corner and put his hands back on the piece.
"When is Ethel coming back?" He asked.
N-E-V-E-R. The board spelled out.
Fred took his hands off the board but steeled himself again and grabbed the piece with his fingers.
"Why?" He asked angrily.
C-A-R C-R-A-S-H.
Fred's mind reeled. What the fuck was going on? How was this possible?
"How do you know this?" He asked.
The piece didn't move.
"How goddammit? ANSWER ME!" His hands were shaking as the piece moved under his fingers.
H-E-R-E W-I-T-H M-E.
"Who are you?" He whispered, his voice suddenly chocked off.
The board didn't reply and Fred was too shaken to ask it again. The piece moved on it's own without being asked and pointed towards a large "goodbye" in the center of the board.
"No." Fred whispered. "NO, come back! I need to know..." The piece flew out from under his fingers and stopped on "Yes" at the top of the board.
"Are you still here?" The piece spun around again and pointed towards no. Then it spelled out, without Fred touching it:
N-E-W S-P-I-R-I-T.
H-E-L-P Y-O-U O-U-T.
Fred laughed a nervous laugh. "Yes, yes...I...I want to know how to get my wife back. can I bring..." The piece moved again.
3-R-D S-T-A-I-R O-P-E-N.
"What...what does that mean?"
The board didn't answer.
"Goddammit! What the fuck does that mean?"
Angrily he threw the board across the room where it landed by it's box.
"Stupid old man," He cursed himself. "You're losing your fucking mind, that's what's happening."
He was tired of the bedroom, it was a summer afternoon and it was getting too hot. He decided to crawl downstairs and try and get to a phone. Or at least a beer. On his hands and knees he slowly made his way out the door and down the hallway...
It wasn't until his face was right on it did he understand what the board had meant. When he tried to pull on the third stair for leverage in his face first crawl down the stairs it gave gave a bit under his hand and something popped in his head. Ignoring the incredible pain in his back he used the stair-rail to pull himself up and propped himself on his knees. The stair pulled up easily and just like he thought there would be, there was a space underneath. With trembling hands he pulled the box out of its dusty confines and shuffled down the stairs clutching it in his hands...

Settled in his favorite armchair he opened the box and pulled out the thick book inside. There was nothing on the faded red front cover and no title on the first page. He took his reading glasses from the lamp table and read what was on the first page...
When he had gotten all the way through the book it was almost dark outside. Fred felt happy. In fact he felt happier than he ever had in his entire life. The pain in his back was almost gone and he felt at least fifteen years younger. He jumped out of the chair and ran to the kitchen.
Opening the knife drawer, he puzzled over it's contents. Which one would work best?, he thought. After careful consideration he took out a medium size Ginsu knife that Ethel had bought off the nice smiling man on the TV. If it was good enough to cut chunks of marble, it would certainly serve his current purposes. Fred laughed and shambled down the hallway and out the door....

When Fred got back home, it was well after dark. His wife beater was soaked through with blood which also covered a good part of the rest of his body. He wore a large grin that seemed to take up the whole of his face. In his left hand was a bucket that had he had previously used to collect trimmings when he had mowed the lawn. Breathing heavily he shuffled into the living room and set the bucket down in the center. Steeling himself he smashed the glass coffee-table top with his bare fist and took a chunk of it in his hand. Never losing his mad-man's grin he slammed the glass into the palm of his hand, grunting as he cut through skin and tendons. Then he held his hand over the bucket and watched the blood drip into it.
After he felt enough of himself had been shed, like the book had said, he dipped his hand into the bucked and brought it out covered in blood and gore.
Following the books instructions he made a circle in blood on the carpet and drew a pentagram in the middle of it. Then he stepped out of the circle and dumped the bucket on his head, laughing as he drenched himself. Crawling back into the circle, he slumped into a praying position, his eyes closed in reverence. When he felt the spirits of the old ones filling his body he opened his eyes and put his hands up in the air.
"Oh old ones, great and powerful beings from beyond the stars. I beseech you this night. Come to my aid. I am a loyal follower and have done your duty well. I ask but one thing in return. I am truly not worthy and it is your right as divine creatures of darkness to deny it to me, but I ask you humbly to bring my Earth wife Ethel back to me. My soul will be yours forever if you do this one thing for me. I beseech you come on to me. COME ON TO ME NOW!"
The noise that accompanied his plea wasn't what he had expected. The book had said that the skies would open up and poor rain and thunder down upon the world. It had said that a portal to the underworld would open and Ethel would come back as if nothing had ever happened. Instead there was a slight scratching noise like a key fiddling in the door lock and a slight crack of pressure as the door opened. In stepped his wife with several bags from the local mall in her hands.
"Fred? Fred honey I'm home! I brought Charley's! Your favorite sandwich even! I..."
That was when she saw him: sitting in the middle of the living room floor drenched in blood. Then he stood up and ran towards her, arms outstretched.
"Darling!" He said and reached to embrace her...


Chubsy-Wubsy the fluffy bunny lived in a sunny meadow full of flowers. Everyday was sunny and even though it never rained the flowers still grew and there was always plenty of clover for Chubsy-Wubsy to eat. Everyday at noon Chubsy-Wubsy would awaken from her dreamless sleep and climb out of her cozy little hole in the ground to greet the day. Then she would frolic and play and eat clover till she was tired and then she would take a nap. After a bit she would wake up and frolic and play and eat clover till it was dark at which point she would crawl back into her cozy little hole and go to sleep. It was the same everyday and everyday was exactly the same.
One day Chubsy-Wubsy climbed out her hole to find another bunny standing outside waiting for her, his whiskers all in a-twitch. This bunny was black. Chubsy-Wubsy had never seen a black bunny before and it scared her.
"W-W-What do you want?" She asked in her little bunny voice.
"You must hurry!" Replied the black bunny, "Bun-bun castle is being attacked by the mean old Grumpuses and they're stealing all our carrots! If they get to the main holding chamber, we shall all surely starve!"
"But what do I care?" Replied Chubsy Wubsy "I have all the food I need right here. Why should I risk my life for the likes of you?"
The black bunny looked angry.
"If you don't they'll eventually come for your land too! You can't stay closed off forever!"
"Pah!" Replied Chubsy Wubsy "What nonsense! Once they take your carrots they'll have enough to live and they'll leave me alone. No get out of my field black thing you!"
"I was sent here to warn you. Come join us and fight or you shall surely perish." Said the black bunny, and with that he turned and hopped away.
Chubsy Wubsy watched till he was out of sight and then continued her frolicking and eating of clover.
Days past into months and months passed into years and Chubsy Wubsy grew old and eventually died of old age. Her meadow was plowed over and turned into a suburban housing development. One day a small child tripped over her hole and broke his ankle and the city filled it up with cement. Chubsy Wubsy's bones were frozen at the bottom for all eternity till eventually the universe collapsed in on itself and there was nothing left but the cold void of space.
The End

"If we turned the table upside down and sailed around the bed,
Clamped knives between our teeth and tied bandannas round our heads,
With the wainscot our horizon and the ceiling as the sky,
You'd not expect that anyone would go and fucking die..."
The Pogues - Drunken Boat

I remember that I was late and that I was in a rush to get to wherever it was that I needed to be. I don't remember why I was late, or where I had to be, or why I was in such a rush to get there. When you've been dead for a long enough time, memories tend to get fuzzy. I suppose I should have written it down sooner but, well, I'll start at the beginning...
So all I really remember was that I was in a rush to get someplace. I had a lunch meeting with someone or another, I really can't recall who, and it had gone on long. I remember running out the door and being blinded by the sun, apparently the place had been pretty dark inside. I must have ran into the street before my eyes adjusted because the next thing I remembered was a blaring car horn and suddenly I was up in the air looking up at the blue sky. As I slowly turned downward, I could see the buildings reaching up high into air, skyscrapers that I had seen my whole life. With a sudden sadness I realized that this was probably the last time I was going to see them. If had had the time, I probably would have cried, but as it was they were already slipping away. The last thing I remember is the pavement coming up at me. I thought it was strange that I could see every pebble and bit of filth in-bedded in the tar with perfect clarity. The last thing I heard was my neck snapping as it hit the ground, and then everything went black...

When I opened my eyes all I could see was blinding white light. It was so bright I had to shut my eyes. I realized I was laying on something soft, but every time I tried to open my eyes to see what it was, I had to close them again. When they finally adjusted enough to where I could see, I rolled off of what I had been lying on and squinted my eyes and looked at it. It was a bed. A large four poster one to be exact, painted bright white like everything else, covered in perfectly white sheets. I looked down at myself. I was wearing the same suit I had died in. I even still had the briefcase I was carrying in my hand.
As I stood in the center of this otherwise featurless perfectly white room I tried to put together what exactly had happened, I remembered the car, and the sky, and the buildings, and realized that I was dead. I punched myself on the arm. I could still feel pain, how was that possible? Wasn't there a bible verse that said something about no more pain after death? Maybe this was Hell. It certainly seemed that way, since there was nothing in this room except a bed. Maybe I was supposed to go insane from boredom...
I was thinking about maybe trying to kill myself again to see where else I would end up as I walked along and looked at the walls, looking for a clue as to why I was in my current situation. I was about to give up and rip my throat open with the pen in my briefcase when I found a door. Well, it was a suggestion of a door, more of an outline really, with no knob or handle on it. I tried getting my fingers around the edges but to no avail. After a time I gave up again and sat down to open my briefcase. I sat with my back against the door and I pushed against it, something clicked and the door opened inward.

It was another small room but a normal one. It looked a bit like my father's study when I was a small child, before we moved away. The walls were covered with bookshelves all around except for under the window, which contained a small desk covered in paper. As I stepped into this room, the door behind me shut and became a wall that contained a small pendulum clock that ticked quietly away to itself. It was all very peaceful and I smiled. So this must be heaven, I thought. I walked over to the desk and picked up a piece of paper from the nearest stack and looked at it. There was writing on it, but the writing was a strange mess of wavy lines and dots that I couldn't make heads or tails of. The rest of the papers were the same, except some contained what appeared to be technical drawings or odd blueprints which I couldn't make sense of either. I gave up and looked out the window. All I could see was the sun shining over the tops of some kind of palm trees and a bit of blue sky. I deduced that this was the top floor of whatever building I was in. Turning to the books on the shelves I was disappointed to find that they were in the same weird writing as the papers on the desk. After pulling out several and trying to make sense of them with no luck I sighed and sat down on a chair and listened to the clock tick away. After staring at the thing for a good while, I began to realize that something wasn't quite right about it. Then I realized that even thought I had been sitting in the chair staring at it for quite some time, the hands hadn't moved at all. The pendulum was swinging, but it was stuck at five after twelve. I looked at my watch, which I suddenly remembered that I still had on. It had the same time. Suddenly I didn't like this room much and opened a door and walked out...

I was at the end of a hallway of some sort, which ran down to what I could see was a flight of stairs. There were doors on either side of the hall and I opened the one on my immediate left which was a bedroom. As I looked at the large bed in the middle all made up nicely, with even a corner turned down at the head, I felt a deep sadness wash over me. This bed wasn't made up for me. This house wasn't meant for me either. I am a trespasser, I thought, and pretty soon the owners are going to come home and find me here and I'm going be arrested. But somehow I knew that wasn't true. Maybe it was the unnatural silence or just a feeling at the back of my head that I knew to be true. I shut the door and started to walk down the rest of the hallway. I stopped before I got to the stairs and turned to face a door set opposite the staircase. I don't know why it intrigued me, but I walked over to it and tried the knob. Surprisingly, it was locked. I don't know how long I stood and stared at it but I became aware of a small noise that I realized was coming from behind the door. I put to my ear to it and heard a small creaking noise, like an old rocking chair. Curious, I put my eye to the keyhole. It was a babies room, all decked out in white lace. I could see a crib off to one side and an open window with lace curtains blowing in the breeze. Underneath the window was a small rocking chair, slowly rocking back and forth even though no one was sitting in it. This frightened me very much for reasons I still can't put together. I turned and ran down the stairs...

Before I hit the bottom I slipped on the last step and fell, my legs kicking out from under me. My briefcase flew into the air and knocked over a potted plant that had been sitting on a pedestal. It fell to the floor and smashed into pieces. I got up and ran over to it, trying in vain to put it back together. That it should be broken was the saddest thing in the world to me and I cried as I held the plant in my hands and let the soil run though my fingers. After a time I composed myself and looked around. To my right was an open door that looked like it lead to a music room. From where I was standing I could see a piano with a violin sitting on top. Right in front of me was a door that lead outside and behind me was a closed door that I had no desire to open. I wanted very badly to be out of the house and I quickly opened the door and ran outside...

I was in a jungle, thick trees grew on all sides and birds cried off in the distance. As soon as I stepped outside, I turned and looked back at the house, trying to see where the babies room might be. To my surprise, the house was gone and there was only a trail leading through the trees. With no other alternative, I headed down the path...

It seemed like an eternity of walking with nothing but trees on all sides of me, when I came out on a white sandy beach. Waves lapped against the shore and seagulls dove for fish. Again, it all seemed so peaceful, but wrong for some reason. It was like I had slipped into an old photograph, a glimpse of a past that didn't exist anymore. I Took off my shoes and socks and threw them away, and walked down the beach. Coming around a bend, I observed a dark spot off in the distance. As I got closer, I realized that it was a picnic table, with someone sitting on it. I walked up and sat down on the opposite side of the table and looked at the person, who seemed to be frozen with his head on his fist. It was a young man, about seventeen or eighteen with sandy brown hair and freckles. He was wearing overalls and a stupid looking straw hat. I coughed.
"Um...hullo?" I said out loud, surprised at the sound of my own voice.
The man responded by taking his head off of his fist, turning, and spitting a stream of tobacco onto the sand.
"What you want?" He said with very thick southern accent.
"" I really didn't know how to respond.
"You want to know why you're here doncha?"
"Well, yeah."
"Well, you're not really here exactly. This is just something your mind made up because it couldn't handle the thought of being dead."
"I'm...I'm not following you."
"Right now you're lying in the street in a pool of blood. Your heart's just stopped pumping blood to your brain and now your brain is dying. In the few seconds before it shuts off completely, It's projecting this. Even though it seems like you've been here for a long time now, you really haven't been." He turned and spit again.
"So...whats going to happen?"
"Hell if I know. You might just stay here for all eternity or you might ldka slkfsf jlskl..." The boys face melted off and puddled on the table.
I looked down and my suit was covered in blood. When I looked up, the whole world was tearing apart into fragments. Large jagged chunks of reality ripped apart and fell into a dark black void, floating away forever. Pretty soon there was nothing left but the void and me floating around in nothingness. I found that I could write words in strange colors on the darkness, but I had to catch them before they floated away. I have a whole collection of them that I've stored in my briefcase which I found floating around. Someday if I can find another reality to latch onto, I'll put them onto paper, or whatever passes for paper there. For now, I'm just floating in darkness. It's cold here, so very very cold. I don't much like being dead...


Josephine was sad. She didn't feel like crying but she was sad all the same. It was a strange empty feeling that was new to her and thus it was much stronger by way of it's being new. All the other kids at school seemed so happy. No one liked her because they said she never smiled and sat by herself during playtime. Josephine thought it was stupid to smile when you didn't feel like it, and she never felt like smiling much.
Downstairs mom and dad were washing the dishes after supper. That was a bad time to be downstairs and so Josephine was upstairs in her room having a tea party with her dolls, even though there were monsters that lived in the dark spaces under her dresser and bed. They only really came out at night though and were only really dangerous if you let a part of your body hang over the sides of the bed. Her mom said they didn't exist when Josephine tried to explain it one day but she knew they did. She could hear them shuffling around on the floor and whispering to themselves in the dark, probably trying to think up ways to get at her, and watching to see if her arm would fall over the side so they could snatch it.
Josephine sighed. It was Saturday afternoon and the sun was just starting to sink in the sky. The birds were still chirping away in the tree outsider her window. Josephine liked birds. She had found one dead underneath the tree once, a baby one that had probably tried to fly too early. It had made her sad and she had buried it out past the backyard, just inside the woods by the creek. She told her doll Penny about it as she poured tea.
"Poor bird, it didn't even have all of it's feathers yet. Don't you think that's sad Penny?"
Penny's black button eyes stared back at her.
"Me too. Do you think it went to heaven? Oh Froggy, don't say that! There too is a heaven for animals! Just for that you don't get any cookies!"
She pulled a plate away from the small stuffed frog and frowned at it.
"I'd like to apologize to everyone for my friend Frogy, he can be a bit rude sometimes..."
Downstairs there was a large crash like several plates being dropped.
The emptiness in Josephine's insides got larger and she felt tears welling up in her eyes.
There was another smaller crash.
Then her mother screamed and started to sob. Josephine turned away from her friends and quietly cried into her hands. After a bit she was able to grab onto the emptiness and push it way down into her stomach. It made her feel sick but she hated crying in front of her friends.
Shakily she poured more imaginary tea for Penny and Froggy and Mr. Brown Bear.
"Are you guys having fun at my party?" She asked and wiped the the tears from her face.
"I'm glad. What's that Mr. Bear? Oh, the cakes not done yet. You'll have to wait, would you like some more tea while you wait?"
Downstairs a TV turned on and the opening theme song for America's Funniest Home Videos could be heard.

At school on Monday Josephine sat by herself during playtime again and made a three piece family out of build-a-blocks. She had set them up around a table made of blocks and was trying to think of a name for them when Joey came over and kicked the whole thing to pieces. Josephine got mad and pushed him and he fell and hit his head and started to cry. Then she had to sit in time out. Mrs. Dempsey said that it was wrong to push people and Josephine should feel bad about what she had done. She didn't feel bad at all though. Later during coloring time, Francine told her that nobody liked her because her family was poor and her clothes were old. Josephine had never thought of that before. I guess they don't care if I smile or not, she thought as she painted a happy letter 'A' a nice shade of dark black, obliterating his face.

That night she lay in bed and talked quietly to Penny, telling her what had happened that day. Penny promised never to tell anyone, Penny was a good friend. She told her about what had happened with Joey and Penny agreed that he had deserved what he had gotten. Froggy thought that pushing him was mean but Josephine told him to be quiet or she'd feed him to the floor monsters. Mr. Brown Bear sang a funny song and Josephine went to sleep well before the floor creatures began their nightly prowl.

On Saturday morning Josephine got up like usual to watch cartoons. Walking quietly past her parents bedroom, she paused for a bit and tried to hear them breathing and then tiptoed down the stairs.
There wasn't much cereal left in the cupboards but she found a quarter full bag of Captain Loops hiding behind some large bowls. Not much milk in the fridge either, just enough so that she didn't have to eat dry cereal.
In front of the Josephine had set up Penny and Mr. Brown Bear on either side of her, because they liked cartoons too. Froggy was upstairs still asleep because he didn't like cartoons at all.
On the TV Bugs Bunny was tricking Yosemite Sam into blowing himself up with a rigged piano. Josephine laughed as she ate her cereal.
Outside past the old tree, a truck slowly pulled up into the driveway, swerving wildly into onto the yard and funny coming to rest after slamming into a telephone pole. Josephine grabbed her friends and ran to the window. Her dad climbed out of the truck, knelt over, and threw up on the lawn. Then he staggered up to the house. Josephine sat back down and watched cartoons, pretending that she didn't see anything.
The door slammed open hard enough to make her jump but Josephine kept her eyes glued to the TV. She could hear him run the some water in the sink and drink noisily.
"Josephine?" Came his voice from behind her. "Josephine, your daddies talking to you."
Josephine didn't move. She contemplated running upstairs quickly, even though there was no lock on her bedroom door but before she could act she was being lifted up in the air. Her father held her face close to his.
"Didn't you hear me girl?" She could smell alcohol on his breath and it made her feel sick. "When I tell you to come, you come!" Then he slapped her hard across the face.
Josephine could feel that empty feeling rising from her stomach, bringing tears with it but she shoved it back down and stared into her father's face impassively.
"Well what have you got to say for yourself girl?" Josephine said nothing, opening her mouth would risk letting the sadness come up.
"I said answer me!" He slapped her again.
She said nothing and her father threw her roughly onto the couch and then walked into the kitchen to look for food. It should have been a soft landing but she hit her head on a wooden part buried deep within the couches innards. Pain flowed from her head all through her body and broke the barrier that was keeping it in her stomach. Before he could see her cry she grabbed her friends and ran quickly to the side door and opened it.
"Hey!" Her father yelled. "Where do you think you're going!"
Josephine said the first thing that came to her mind.
"I hope you die." Her father stood still in shock. It was so cold sounding, it broke through his drunken haze.
"What did you say?"
"I hope you DIE!" Then Josephine burst into tears and ran out the door.

She spent all day in the woods talking to Penny and Mr. Brown Bear. She would have ran to her cousin's house but Mr. Brown Bear convinced her that she should head back home. Mr. Brown Bear was always the smart one.
When she got back, the house was empty and dark and quiet. Her bowl of cereal was still sitting by the TV, now all bloated and soggy and gross.
"What are we going to do now guys?" She asked her friends.
For once they were silent. She held them close to her body as she sat on a dining room chair. It was past dark and the floor monsters would be out already, so there was no going upstairs. Josephine sat and stared out the living room window and waited for headlights to pull up the drive. And tried not to cry.


"The scream of the ambulance is sounding in my ears,
Tell me, sister morphine, how long have I been lying here?
What am I doing in this place?
Why does the doctor have no face?"
Marianne Faithfull - Sister Morphine

Jesus is standing by my bedside. He has a rubber band around his arm and the blood from his eyes drips down his cheeks. I keep asking him if he'll pray for me but all he does is scream and he won't let me sleep.
My head is full of incests with legs covered in broken glass. They crawl around and eat my brain, digging tunnels and dragging up memories I'd like to forget. People I've hurt, girls I fucked and left. Every horrible thing I've ever seen or done plays out on the tiled ceiling. Jesus won't turn and look. I wish I could get up and push him over, I'm sick of looking at him. I can't move. Sometimes it panics me, the fact that I can't move my arms or legs, but you can only panic so much before you just go numb.
On TV is some game show where happy people spin a wheel for money and prizes. I can't hear what they're saying over the screaming and the constant noise from the ceiling but it looks like they're happy. I hope they're happy. I didn't ask for this. They don't realize that it could happen to them too. They're living on borrowed time.
There are house flies on the window. There's thousands of them, all buzzing in unison, trying to get back out. They don't realize there's a pane of glass separating them from the outside world. One of them lands on my foot and crawls around, spitting up stomach acid, looking for food. I can't feel it. Suddenly Jesus is gone, in his place is an angel with a flaming sword. I don't know if this is good or bad. Hopefully it means that I'll be dead soon and I can end this. On the ceiling I am five years old, standing on a freeway overpass, throwing rocks at the cars below....
Sleep. Am I asleep? Sometimes I drift out into other planes of existence. Most of the time I'm standing on a beach by a blood red sea, the sky pulsating in shades of black and rotted green. Other times I wander through dusty old houses, going from room to room, floating over the rotted boards. I think this is sleep, or maybe I actually go to these places. One time I opened a door and there was a room full of cats, all nailed to the walls, but still alive. When I came back the doctor was standing over me and I could hear his thoughts as they poured through a hole in my head. He was wondering if he still had time to make his golf game. I want to kill him and take his soul with me to the beach. I want to show him the bodies floating in the water. Maybe he'd understand then. But I can't move.
When I was fifteen my dog got hit by a car right outside our house. My dad wasn't home and I had to put it down myself. I keep seeing this playing out over and over on the ceiling. Sometimes I can feel the dog's pain as it lies there dying in the roadway. Then I can feel the bullet entering it's brain, the sweet release of pain as my life ebbs away. Other times I can feel the gun in my hands again and the pain as it kicks into my shoulder. It's always pain. What have I done to deserve this?
The angel is looking at the drip in my arm. Sometimes I think he's going to pull it out but he just stands looking at it. He came with me to the beach last time I went. He showed me a trail that led up through a wood full of black trees. He pointed the way into a clearing that contained a shack made of human flesh, the wall pulsating like it was alive and breathing. When I walked inside it enveloped me and for brief while my pain was gone. Then I came back to the hospital and the angel was there, staring at my drip.
I can't find the clearing or the house again. I've looked all over and all there is is the blood red sea and the black woods full of rotting trees. I can still feel the pain, but at least I can move, I can run even though the rocks in the sand cut my feet. I've been trying to stay here as much as possible, but I always come back to the hospital and the doctor with his putrid thoughts, the TV, the ceiling, and the dirty buzzing flies. My angel is gone. He hasn't taken me with him....
I'm glad the ceiling has stopped broadcasting. I think the insects have run out of things to eat. I can't remember anything anymore. Who am I? Was I married? I seem to remember a girl with red hair and green eyes but I can't seem to grasp what she meant to me. I can't find her on the beach or in any of the rooms either. I don't like searching in the rooms anymore, all I find is blood and pain. I like the beach because it's dark. I've been trying to grasp at the darkness and pull it down, but it's so far away....
They took my legs away today. I was taken from my room and there people standing over me. I went to the beach for a long time and when I woke up my legs were gone. The pain is so much worse, It radiates from my head out to the rest of what used to be my body. The doctor pities me, his thoughts say so. I told him to fuck off. I think looked surprised. Or did I just imagine it? Can I still speak? I tried screaming today but I found that I couldn't open my mouth. There are cartoons on the TV and they talk to me. The little brown skinned girl wanted to know if I'd seen the map. I told her no and asked if she's seen the beach, if they bodies meant anything to her. She didn't answer and skipped away through a green forest with her friend the fox. I laughed. This startled me. I hadn't laughed for a long time. It didn't make the pain any less though.
The angel is back again, only know he's covered with blood and the flame on his sword has gone out. I wanted to know what he'd been doing but he didn't answer. Angels are very useless creatures.
I think my arms are gone, even though I can't see them. The angel is leaking blood from it's eyes. The TV is screaming and the flies are buzzing in a cloud around my head. I'm trying to get to the beach, if I could only get there and stay there, everything would be fine....

"I couldn't stand to see him laying there with no arms or legs, just staring at the ceiling. The doctor's said he was still alive so they had to try and keep him alive or it'd be murder. When no one was looking I pulled the plug on his respirator, and waited till the machine flat-lined. Then I plugged it back in and calmly walked out of the hospital. On the way home I pulled over and cried till my stomach hurt and I opened the door and threw up. None of the passing cars stopped...."

The beach and the sky are mine forever. If only I could find that damn hut again...


"Argle Bargle!" Jimmy said as he bit the head off of his teacher, blood spurting in lovely streams from her neck. She tasted like old perfume and Elmer's glue and he spit her head out onto the desk, right as the school principal walked in.
"Oh my gawd!" He shouted in horror, "You've killed Mrs. Robinson!"
Then he looked behind him nervously.
"Er...Jimmy? Before we call the police, do you think I can get a look at her boobs quick?"


You wake up in a dungeon made of crude stones. You are wearing a simple cloak made of cheap itchy wool. To your left is an empty food pan. To your right is a pile of filthy straw that you guess must serve as a bed. In front of you is a window high up in the wall. Behind you is a wooden door that contains a barred window. You have no recollection of how you got here. Must have been a wild night.
> Pick up pan.
The pan is in your hand Stan.
> Look at pan.
It's your standard prisoner feeding pan, pounded out of thin metal and coated with a thin film of grease. Pretty nasty if you ask me.
> Pound on door.
"Hey!" A loud angry voice yells from behind the door. "Keep it down in there or you'll be sorry!"
> Pound on door.
A large man wearing heavy looking leather armor barges through the doorway. "What did I just tell you!" He yells and clefts your head in twain with his giant battle ax. Now you're dead. Congratulations.

You wake up in a dungeon made of crude stones. You are wearing a simple cloak made of cheap itchy wool. To your left is an empty food pan. To your right is a pile of filthy straw that you guess must serve as a bed. In front of you is a window high up in the wall. Behind you is a wooden door that contains a barred window. You have no recollection of how you got here. Must have been a wild night.
> Pick up pan.
The pan is in your hand Stan.
> Look out window on door.
You can see a part of a hallway that looks like it goes to a stairs, but the view is mostly blocked by a wall which a large man in heavy looking leather armor is leaning against. My that battle ax looks nasty, wouldn't want to piss him off!
> Look at straw.
It's a pile of straw, filthy and crawling with chiggers, lice, and several other nasty looking things you'd rather not look too closely at.
> Look at window.
The window is high above your head. Light streams through the bars and you can faintly hear birds chirping.
> Climb up to window.
You try to climb up the rocks but succeed in doing nothing but severely hurting your fingers before falling back down to the dirty floor. Nice going Einstein.
> Scream.
You let out a girlish shriek. "Hey!" Says the man behind the door. "Don't make me have to come in there!"
> Poop.
You squat down and push with all your might. Soon a steaming lump of feces is your new cell mate. You muse on when the last time it was that you ate corn.
> Eat poop.
You pick up the steaming pile and shove it in your mouth. It tastes like shit, go figure. The door swings open. "Hey," Says the large scary man, "We've decided that we were wrong to throw you in here, and we're going to let you go you're free to..."
He pauses, and a look of horror and disgust uglifies his already ugly face.
"You sick bastard!" He swings his ax and cuts your head clean off. Now you're dead. Congratulations.

You wake up in a dungeon made of crude stones. You are wearing a simple cloak made of cheap itchy wool. To your left is an empty food pan. To your right is a pile of filthy straw that you guess must serve as a bed. In front of you is a window high up in the wall. Behind you is a wooden door that contains a barred window. You have no recollection of how you got here. Must have been a wild night.
> Pick up pan.
The pan is in your hand Stan.
> Hit self on head with pan.
TWANG! That didn't accomplish much. And now your head hurts.
> Sing and dance.
You dance a merry jig and sing Ace of Base till you're depressed and sit down on the floor and cry.
> Kill self.
Kill self with what?
> Kill self with pan.
Despite the excruciating pain, you use the jagged edge of the pan to cut your own throat open. Before you fade away completely, the rats come out of their hiding places and start gnawing on your body. You are dead. Congratulations.

You wake up in a dungeon made of crude stones. You are wearing a simple cloak made of cheap itchy wool. To your left is an empty food pan. To your right is a pile of filthy straw that you guess must serve as a bed. In front of you is a window high up in the wall. Behind you is a wooden door that contains a barred window. You have no recollection of how you got here. Must have been a wild night.
> Pick up pan.
The pan is in your hand Stan.
> Look under pile of straw.
You fling the straw aside ignoring the nasty little creatures that scatter for cover. You see a book where there once was straw.
> Pick up book.
You have the book in hand man.
> Read book.
You can't very well read it if it's closed now can you? Stupid.
> Open book.
You would be able to open it but it has a lock on it. Did you really think it would be that easy?
> Break lock.
Break lock with what?
> Break lock with pan.
TWANG! TWANG! TWANG! TWANG! It doesn't seem to be working very well. "Hey!" A voice shouts from behind the door. "Keep it quiet in there! If I have to come in, you'll be sorry!" You'd better stop!
> Curse at lock.
The lock remains steadfast despite your dirty mouth.
> Take off cloak.
Now you're cold and naked. That accomplished a lot.
> Look on ground for key.
You sift through the dirt with your fingers. Your hands are now filthy with filth, but still no key. You find a rat hole in the floor.
> Stick hand down rat hole.
Ouch! Something bit you! You pull your hand out and look at your bleeding wound. As you watch, it turns black and so does your whole hand! It runs up your arm till your whole body is diseased. You slump on the floor and wish for death, which eventually comes. You are dead. Congratulations.


> Take off cloak.
Now you're cold and naked. That accomplished a lot.
> Use cloak on pan.
You wipe the filthy rags you were wearing around the pan, covering it in sickening meat grease.
> Put cloak down rat hole.
You stuff the nasty rags down the hole. You feel a tug on the end of it!
> Take cloak.
You pull the cloak out of the hole to find several rats clinging to the bottom, gnawing away. One of them has a key around it's neck!
> Grab rat.
It looks rather plaguey, I wouldn't if I were you.
> Grab key.
Very carefully you pinch the key between your fingers and pull. The rat stops gnawing and falls to the ground, but the key is in your fingers! You throw the cloak as hard as you can against the wall and step on the rats as they try to scurry away, smashing their little furry bodies beneath your feet. That ought to show them! You think as their pathetic little squeaks fade away...
> Use key on book.
You insert the ky in the lock and turn and it snaps open!
> Open book.
You open the book expecting it be maybe be a Gideon's Bible or insurance seminar pamphlet, but there's no writing to be found! You open to the middle of the book. You see a small whistle in the hollowed out pages.
> Get whistle.
You have the whistle. What fun.
> Look whistle.
It's a small yellow whistle. Hooray?
> Blow whistle.
You put the whistle to your lips and blow with all your might...
Game save in progress....
Progress saved.
No sound emits out of the end of the whistle. You wait for something to happen. After what seems like forever, you get bored and sit on the ground. You're about to throw the whistle away when a large red demon appears in the middle of the room! Just look at his demonic red horns! And goat legs! And silk women's undergarments and pimp jacket? What kind of a demon is this?
> Talk to demon.
"I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL MEPHISTO" He starts, "YOU SHALL..." He interrupts himself with a fit of coughing.
"Sorry about that. Damn, I really need to quit smoking. Um, you blew the whistle right?
> Yes.
"Well what the Hell did you want man? I've got these ladies over and we've got all this wine to drink and we were gonna watch Twilight.
> Tell the demon that Twilight sucks.
He points a finger and suddenly the world goes dark. When you wake you are sitting in a movie theater. You are tied up and your eyes are being held open with pointy metal things. Guess what movie is playing? That's right, you get to watch Twilight for all eternity! You're not dead...but I bet you wish you were!

Restart from last save point...
No sound emits out of the end of the whistle. You wait for something to happen. After what seems like forever, you get bored and sit on the ground. You're about to throw the whistle away when a large red demon appears in the middle of the room! Just look at his demonic red horns! And goat legs! And silk women's undergarments and pimp jacket? What kind of a demon is this?
> Talk to demon.
"I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL MEPHISTO" He starts, "YOU SHALL..." He interrupts himself with a fit of coughing.
"Sorry about that. Damn, I really need to quit smoking. Um, you blew the whistle right?
> Yes.
"Well what the Hell did you want man? I've got these ladies over and we've got all this wine to drink and we were gonna watch Twilight.
> Ask the demon for help in escaping.
He points a finger and the world goes dark. When you wake you are strapped to a table. A man in a tweed coat walks around you reading from a large book which you eventually realize is your ninth grade math book! You're not dead, but I bet you wish you were!

Restart from last save point...
No sound emits out of the end of the whistle. You wait for something to happen. After what seems like forever, you get bored and sit on the ground. You're about to throw the whistle away when a large red demon appears in the middle of the room! Just look at his demonic red horns! And goat legs! And silk women's undergarments and pimp jacket? What kind of a demon is this?
> Talk to demon.
"I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL MEPHISTO" He starts, "YOU SHALL..." He interrupts himself with a fit of coughing.
"Sorry about that. Damn, I really need to quit smoking. Um, you blew the whistle right?
> Yes.
"Well what the Hell did you want man? I've got these ladies over and we've got all this wine to drink and we were gonna watch Twilight.
> Ask the demon to please help you escape.
"Well," He says, rubbing his goatee, "Since you were polite about it...ALAKAZAMMM!" He shouts and red lightening surges through the room! The demon laughs manically and then is interrupted by another coughing fit.
"Sorry," he says and the lightening stops. "Here.." He points towards the door, which quietly swings open. "The guard is asleep, try not to wake him up and...oh wait, do you think you can do something for me?"
> Yeah sure.
He pulls out a flask and offers it to you.
"There's a witch that lives in this dungeon, take this flask to her. She'll know who it's from. He winks and you suppress a shiver.
> Take flask.
"Well, TTFN! Ta Ta for Now!" He exclaims and suddenly the room is filled with red smoke! When it evaporates, the demon is still standing looking at you. He shrugs his shoulders and walks out the door.
> Look at flask.
It's your average everyday round flask. It's full of some weird clear liquid.
Save progress...
Progress saved.
Are you sure you want to quit?
Goodbye quitter!


Start game from last save point.
Game loaded.

You are standing in a small dungeon like cell. The door is wide open and you can see the guard who was previously guarding you, now asleep on his feet.
> Check inventory
You are currently holding: A metal pan, a hollowed out book, a small yellow whistle, a grease smeared tunic, and a flask of clear liquid.
> Put tunic on
How about no? That things pretty gross man. You'll have to stay naked for the time being.
> Play with self
Dude, what kind of a game do you think this is?
> Blow whistle
You give the tiny yellow thing a mighty blow but nothing happens.
> Blow whistle again
Something smacks you upside the head and knocks you out. When you awake, your whistle is gone. Nice going.
> Drink liquid
You quaff the clear liquid down in three greedy gulps. It tastes like bacon flavored vodka but doesn't seem to have any adverse effects.
> Walk out of dungeon
You try to but you find that your body is suddenly bloated and disgusting. It rapidly expands, occasionally growing nasty tentacles of loose flesh and muscle. You grab the guard with one of these and crush his body into pulp, which you then absorb. Your now sick bloated form fills the small room and crashes through the roof. As you look out over the landscape you realize that you now have unlimited power and can now eat the universe! You slog around the land, eating any trees and cows in your path till a farmer stabs you with his pitchfork and all of your fluids leak out, leaving you a nasty mess on the ground. You are cut up and your skin is used for clothing for several small farm families. At least you did some good before you died right? Sadly, it doesn't make your demise suck any less.

You are standing in a small dungeon like cell. The door is wide open and you can see the guard who was previously guarding you, now asleep on his feet.
> Walk out of cell
You are standing in front of the sleeping guard. To your left is an open door down a short passageway. Past the wall the guard is leaning against, is a set of stairs leading upward and a passageway leading to the right. To your immediate right is a passageway featuring a row of prison doors.
> Look at guard
Wow, he's an ugly mother isn't he? Good thing he's asleep. He is wearing rather heavy looking leather armor and a hat with horns sticking out the sides. Around his neck is a satchel. At his side is a heavy looking ax.
> Pick up ax
You try with all your might but the ax is too heavy for the puny likes of you.
> Take hat from guard
Deftly you pull the hat off the guards head waking him up in the process. Of course.
"Oi!" He shouts, "Whats all this then? A hat thief? Hey, aren't you supposed to be in your cell?"
He punches you hard and when you wake up you are strapped to a stretching rack and the guard is burning your feet with a hot iron.
"Teach you to steal hats from me!" Says the guard.

You are standing in a small dungeon like cell. The door is wide open and you can see the guard who was previously guarding you, now asleep on his feet.
> Walk out of cell
You are standing in front of the sleeping guard. To your left is an open door down a short passageway. Past the wall the guard is leaning against, is a set of stairs leading upward and a passageway leading to the right. To your immediate right is a passageway featuring a row of prison doors.
> Look at guards satchel
It's large and brown and looks like it has interesting things inside of it. Just like your sister!
> Take satchel
You deftly lift the satchel strap and bring it over the guards head, thankfully he doesn't wake up. Good thing you didn't try to take his hat! I hear he's very attached to it.
The satchel will now double as your inventory.
> Check inventory
You are holding: A metal pan, a hollowed out book, a small yellow whistle, a grease smeared tunic, a flask of clear liquid, a small brown bottle, and a small half eaten sandwich.
> Look at bottle
It's a small brown bottle.
> Open bottle
You pull out the stopper. Pee-u! It's smells like the groin area of a Garunther after a week of not bathing. (Not that you'd know anything about that, right?)
> Look at sandwich
It's a small half eaten sandwich. The meat looks pretty rotten and the cheese is way past stale. But maybe it will have a use later...HINT HINT!
> Move down right hallway
You are standing in front of what looks like a combination of torture chamber and armory. There's lots of nasty looking torture devises every where but also racks of swords and shields and armor. Sitting in the far corner next to the rack is a grumpy looking fat man in black robes.
> Save game
Game save in progress...
Game saved.
> Enter room
You enter and the man stands up.
"Hey you!" He shouts, "What are you doing here all naked like that? Are you an escaped prisoner?"
> Sing the man a song
The man's jaw drops open.
"That's the rebellion's national song! You are supposed to be a prisoner!"
Soon you find yourself in another cell but this time you are chained up to a wall with no chance of escape at all. Soon you die of starvation and the rats eat your body.

You are standing in front of what looks like a combination of torture chamber and armory. There's lots of nasty looking torture devises every where but also racks of swords and shields and armor. Sitting in the far corner next to the rack is a grumpy looking fat man in black robes.
> Enter room
You enter and the man stands up.
"Hey you!" He shouts, "What are you doing here all naked like that? Are you an escaped prisoner?"
> No
The man smiles. "Alright then! I'm gonna go get me a bite to eat. It's pretty boring around here with no one to torture! Could you watch the room for me while I'm gone? Make sure no one steals anything, thanks!"
And with that he waddles down the hallway and out of your sight, completely ignoring the sleeping guard.
> Look at swords
There's three different kinds: Sharp looking master swords, curved scimitars, and puny little daggers.
> Take master sword
Hooray, now you're armed! Now you can stab things!
> Take dagger
Hey, don't get greedy now! One sword is enough for the likes of you!
> Look at shields
There's three kinds: Fancy looking metal Hyrulian shields, strange looking small shields that are probably magic of some sort, and used shields that are full of holes.
> Take Hyrulian Shield
Good choice! Of course that will make the game easier but also more boring, but who am I to tell you how to play? *cough cough, wuss*
> Look at armor
There's only leather type armor. Take it or leave it.
> Take armor
Great, now you're not naked! Of course you still have no underwear on...
> save game
Game save in progress...
Game saved.
> Quit
Are you sure you want to quit? The game is just getting good!
> Yes
Fine, go have a real life while your character sits and waits for you to come back. We'll just play cards and talk about you behind your back...


You humans are scum. Do you hear me? You're nothing but greedy conniving wastes of God given life. You walk around and consume and destroy and take everything for granted until the day you lose it all to the eternal darkness and then you beg for it back. You're nothing but destructive vermin, a plague, a disease that needs to be eradicated. If I could, I'd make every last one of you suffer. I'd put you in cages and stab you with hooks, tearing apart your flesh, feeding off your screams and suffering. I'd keep you alive till every ounce of blood was gone from your bodies, every bone shattered, every nerve screaming in pain. Then I'd let you die, slowly. You'd beg for the quiet painless solace of the dark, but I'd keep you from it as long as possible. I'd show you suffering the likes of which you've never experienced. But I can't. Yet. I'm not strong enough. I'm not even strong enough to escape this underground prison. But it's coming. Soon. I can feel it building, growing, making me stronger with every passing day. I can push a little and tomorrow I'll be able to push a little more and one day the walls of this prison will break and you'll all get what you deserve. I can almost taste the blood...

"Lets skip this house." Megan whined, her halo bobbing up and down as we walked.
"Oh come on, she's your teacher! She's going to ask on Monday why you didn't stop at her house."
"But she only gives away pencils!"
"Well don't you need some new pencils?"
We ended up stopping at Mrs. Grieves's house anyways, and just like every other year, Megan got a pencil in her trick or treat bag. And not a very good one either.
As we walked back home in the dark, Megan pouted.
"I hardly got any candy this year! Almost no one had their lights on!"
"Yeah, well, people just aren't into Halloween like they used to be."
"Like Mom?"
"Mom never was into Halloween at all. I'm surprised she let you go this year. I used to have to sneak out..."
"Yeah, sneak out to throw eggs and toilet paper the school."
"Hey, you can't prove I did ever did that!"
We were passing old Mr. Lovering's creepy house. He had his porch light on, like usual, but hardly anyone stopped since he only gave out stale Circus Peanuts and Bit O Honeys and liked to take pictures of every kid for his "personal scrapbook." He waved to us from the porch where he was sitting with his camera and I pushed Megan to walk a little faster.
The block where we lived was down at the end of a cul de sac, and it was always a bit creepy at night. For some reason the trees never looked right in the dark, especially when there was a moon out, like tonight. And of course, we had to live in the house at the dead end of it.
Before we reached the end, Megan spoke up, breaking the eerie stillness that hung over everything like a could.
"Hey Mike?"
"Why don't we sneak out later tonight and egg Mrs. Grieves's house? To get her back for handing out such rotten junk?"
I laughed. "You'd like that wouldn't you? You should have worn the opposite of that angel costume tonight."
She pouted. "Mom wouldn't let me."
"I know, I know. Mom wants to spread the gospel of heaven even on this wicked night." I sighed. The house lights were dark. I guessed that Mom must be in bed already, even though it wasn't even 8:30 yet. She certainly wouldn't have gone out.
Killer started yapping his head off when we walked in and I calmed him down, thinking he'd wake her up. She never did come down though. Come to think of it, I never really did find out what happened to her...

After I had put Megan to bed (and after an edited for TV version of Friday the 13th Part 2 which she wouldn't go to bed without watching) and had locked Killer in his room, I snuck out. I didn't know what Matt had planned for that night, but then I never really did. It was always something crazy fun though, so I was excited. Matt's house was behind mine, about a mile through the woods and we were supposed to meet halfway. When I got to the large dead tree that marked the meeting place, no one was there. That didn't surprise me, they were probably hiding, waiting to jump out and scare me. Or maybe everyone was just late. It was cold though and I had stupidly grabbed the wrong jacket. The cold went right through it and I paced around with my hands in my armpits to keep warm, kicking dead leaves in annoyance. I was about to give up and walk the rest of the way to Matt's house when I spotted something on the tree. My flashlight revealed a piece of loose-leaf paper with Matt's girlish handwriting on it. Why hadn't I seen it sooner?

"Hey dude,
We switched meeting places, we tried to call you but your phone was dead. It's not far away though, here's directions on how to get there. It's a wicked creepy old house, you'll love it."

My phone was dead? That was weird, I wondered what happened to it. I sighed. I actually knew where the old house was, it was off G-6 road way back in the woods. I'd seen it when I had done some farm work for my uncle and we drove past it. It was like 2 miles away. I thought for a minute about going back and getting the car but decided to run to the place. It would keep me warm and the guys would think it was cool that I had done it. We were all runners and all a little bit crazy.
Before I could really get a good pace going I had to cut through our woods to get to the dirt road. It was pretty dangerous in the dark and I tripped a few times and almost fell, but I made it without really wiping out.
It's creepy out in the woods at night. Sometimes you can hear the highway but that night all I could hear was the gravel under my feet and my own labored breath. I kept thinking that I could hear and see things under the darkness of the trees and it made me run faster. One time I swore I saw a pair of red eyes as I ran past and I panicked and started sprinting. Stuff like that sounds stupid in the daytime, but it's dead serious at night. At night you almost believe anything.
To calm myself down I thought about who all might be there tonight:
Matt, our ring leader, would of course be there. Brandon, our crazy second in command. Probably David, who was a year younger and laughed at all my jokes, no matter how stupid they were. Laura if they could persuade her to go. I hoped Laura would be there. I wouldn't admit it, but I had a huge crush on her. I tried to hide it, but sometimes I think it showed through and I felt stupid around her. Still, I hoped she'd be there...
I got to the driveway of the house and stopped to catch my breath. I looked down the overgrown gravel at the black shape the jutted up sharply against the sky, looking for flashlight beams. I didn't see any. My first thought was of everyone sitting inside, or standing by the door, waiting for me to come in so they could jump out and scare me. I smiled. I wasn't going to let them do it though. I plunged into the woods and tried to be as quiet as possible while I skirted the house to get to the back.
When I got to the side of the house, I pushed through the trees a bit and looked at one of the windows. I couldn't see anything so I carefully snuck up and looked in. I could see a large room with a fireplace and some broken furniture. And also a dusty rotted piano in one corner. It was empty of people though. I listened for whispered voices but the night was eerily quiet, I could even hear my heart pounding in my chest. Maybe they were in the basement. I walked around the side of the house...
The door was down a small flight of stone steps and it had a lock on it, which had recently been broken. I smiled. I wonder whose I idea that was, I thought to myself.
The basement was really more of a cellar. When I opened the door I was hit with a wave of dank stale earth smell. My flashlight turned up nothing but an empty room, littered with rotted shelving and large pools of water on the floor. I wanted to yell out that the joke wasn't funny anymore but I didn't want to be a jerk. There was a door at the far end and I crept along, my head lowered so I wouldn't hit the low ceiling, trying to avoid the puddles which I invariably stepped in. Now my left foot was soaked through to my sock. This wasn't funny anymore. I grabbed the antique handle of the door and pulled my hand away in disgust. It was sticky. I looked at it in the flashlight beam. It looked like blood. They're really going far with this, I thought. I wiped it on my jeans and reached to open the door....

I held my breath and tightened my grip on the sticky doorknob. As I pulled the door open I could hear the blood pounding in my ears, a mighty roar against the silence of the night. It opened with a rusty screech and I shone my flashlight inside to find....nothing. Just another empty room with stone walls and a dirt floor. "Shit." I said out loud, immediately wishing I hadn't. I was about to leave when my flashlight caught a glimmer of something in the far corner of the room. I walked over and picked it up. It was a wooden crucifix with a plaster Jesus, half buried in the dirt. It was strange enough that it was there, but even stranger was that someone had shoved thumbtacks into his eyes. They were the ornamental kind used for furniture and it made him look bug eyed. And very creepy. I shivered and threw the thing back in the corner...
The basement steps were covered in blood. It wasn't puddled but it looked like someone had walked up to the first flood and had been bleeding profusely. Or several persons. Like the doorknob, it wasn't even dry yet. I walked up, trying to avoid stepping in it.
The steps led up into a small kitchen which was connected to the room I had looked into from outside. There wasn't anymore blood but there were dusty footprints all over the floor that lead into the room and up to a door. I was reaching for the handle when the piano behind me plinked a short note. I spun around and stood, frozen to the floor. Had I really heard it? Was my imagination playing tricks on me? Whatever it was, my hand shook as I reached for the door handle...
These stairs were also covered in blood. It was all over the risers, on the wall, even smeared on the safety rail. It seemed to take forever to walk up, partly because I was trying to avoid getting blood on me but mostly because the stairs receded the farther and farther as I got up. They stretched and moved and twisted like taffy until my stomach was sick and I had to stop and lean against the wall, getting my hands full of blood. Was this real? Was I at home dreaming right now? I closed my eyes and tried to wake myself up....
When I opened them again, I was at the top of the stairs, shining my flashlight into the small room. Actually it wasn't that small, it was rather large for such a small house. It smelled terrible, like rotting meat left too long in the sun. Willing myself forward I shone my light at middle of the room. There was a huge puddle of blood there. Like I was in a dream and not controlling my body, I knelt down and looked at it. It was pulsating, like it was alive. Pulling myself back together, I stood up and turned...
Right into the face of my friend Laura. Even in the bad light, I could tell she didn't look right. She looked pale and her eyes were wide, but there was no emotion behind them.
"You've finally come Mike." She said in a weird monotone that sounded like it was coming from a faraway tunnel.
"Um, hi Laura..." I couldn't think of anything else to say.
"We need you Mike. We need your blood."
"You...need my blood?"
Suddenly everyone else materialized behind her. I don't mean that they walked from where they were hiding. They weren't there and then suddenly they were. There was Matt and Brandon and David, and a younger kid that I didn't know who had think black hair.
"We need your blood to give to the old one." Said Matt.
"Yes, the old one." Said the kid, "He is almost risen."
I turned to Laura. "I don't understand whats..."
Laura interrupted me. "We have given our all to the old one. Our blood and our souls are his." She lifted up her arm which contained a gash that ran from her wrist to her elbow.
"Now it's your turn." Said Brandon as he pulled a knife out of his stomach.
"I...I don't think this is such a good idea." I said, slowly backing away towards the stairs.
"You're not going anywhere." Said Laura as she grabbed me and pulled me close, kissing me full on the mouth, draining me of any will to fight till I felt her knife dig into my side...

Laura pulled back, biting painfully down on my bottom lip, and pulled the knife out of my side. Before I could react, she had thrown it into the large blood pool in the middle of the room. Almost immediately there was the crack and whine of splintering wood as the floorboards split apart and the blood drained into the hole it created. For what seemed like a long time, nothing happened. At least I thought nothing was happening. Nobody moved, my former friends stood and stared vacantly at nothing while I held onto my wounded side. At first I couldn't tell what they were looking at but eventually I started to see black smoke pouring out of the hole in the floor. It was almost the same shade as the dark but it slowly got darker till I could see that it was forming a shape, a large tentacled mass. Eventually it grew several pairs of segmented eyes and a mouth filled with sharp looking teeth. I was about to book it back down the stairs when it let out a roar that shook the whole house. His voice was like fire in my ears. My friends all bowed down till their heads hit the floor.
He stopped and turned half of his eyes towards me.
"Servant!" He roared, "WHY ART THOU NOT BOWING DOWN?"
Laura spoke up, still bowing, "He has not been drained fully master."
Tentacles of smoke moved above my head.
"That is fine, he will be my first experiment. The first to feel the pain that the rest of the world will soon know! I. AM. CARTESIAN! THE ALL POWERFUL!"
Before he could grab me I jumped over Laura and made for the door. The old god screamed and the house shook again as I tried to navigate the slippery stairs. About halfway down I slipped and fell head first, slamming into the floor. As I tried to get up, fighting off blackness, the god formed above me, laughing a laugh that chilled my spine. I could hear his followers scrambling down the stairs and then everything went black.

The first thing I felt when I awoke was pain. It moved and pulsated through my body, sometimes receding to a point where it was nothing, only to come charging back. When I opened my eyes I was in a cage, suspended above a pit of what appeared to be molten rock. My arms had been ripped from my body and chains had been sunk deep into my skin. I was pierced all along my back and was suspended from the ceiling. It hurt to move, it hurt to breath, it hurt to exist. That is where I am now, hoping to die, but not holding out hope. If I turn to my left I can see rows of cages full of humans suffering the same fate as me. The cage directly to my left contains Mr. Lovering. He's sitting in a chair and two naked young girls are slowly ripping him apart. Every time they rip off a piece of skin or a fingernail or plunge their hands inside him to grab an internal organ, it grows back. He's trying to scream but they've sown his mouth shut. They've also taken his eyes.
To my right is Mrs. Grieves. Her mouth is wired open with some sort of sharp looking metal contraption. There's a demon at her feet shoving pencils into her mouth. When it's full, he gives a signal and the demon on her back turns a crank, forcing her to chew and swallow.
The air is filled the shrieks and moans of the tortured. What an awful way to spend Halloween. What an awful to spend eternity.

Ending music! Happy Halloween!


"Why I hate Thanksgiving
You know what really sucks? Having to sit at the kiddy table during Thanksgiving dinner. You know what else sucks? Having to sit at the kiddy table during Thanksgiving when you're 17 years old. Every year at Grandma's I keep expecting to get to sit at the regular dinner table like an adult with full access to the food but every year I get regulated to the small card table in the next room. It's humiliating and I hate having to get up and ask for more food. It's like I'm a little kid again and I have to have ask the adults to load my plate for me.
This year was really bad because the turkey was dry and the stuffing had raisins in it and the cranberry sauce was the horrible canned stuff. It was all the food I didn't like. Thanksgiving is not a good holiday, it's like Christmas but you don't get any presents and there's no songs to sing or tree to put up. It's boring and I don't like it. I think we should get rid of Thanksgiving and make the whole month of November into Halloween."

You have to start writing full pages. I give you the whole hour on Monday's to do Journal writing and you keep turning in these half pages. I know you can do better. The most I can give you for this is a D. Your parents will also be receiving a call from me.
-Mrs. Grieves

I lied. The food was actually really good, as usual. I had gotten stuck at the kiddie table again and I really did hate it. I hate Mrs. Grieves writing assignments more. I love to write but not about things like "how to achieve world peace" or "sports I like." I had written full page really sarcastic pieces for those and gotten D's and a call to my parents about my "attitude." So I've tried to write full pages of "sincere" essays but I get sick of it halfway through. Actually, the Thanksgiving piece could have been a full page but Mrs. Grievous would have thought I was making it up just to be funny and then I'd get an F. God I hate that bitch. But since I'm just writing this for myself and no one but me is going to read it but me, here's what happened.

My sister Eileen is fifteen so she gets to sit at the kiddie table too. It was just us two and cousin Nicholas, who is five and who was making a disgusting diorama with his mashed potatoes and chocolate milk. I tried not to look at him.
"I hate sitting at this table." I mumbled and stabbed a piece of turkey.
"Well maybe if you didn't act like you were five they'd put at the normal table." Eileen said in that prim matter of fact voice that I hated so much.
"Well you should talk," I shot back, "Who was the one that let that pig loose at the Jr. High dance?"
"Hey! That was a team effort."
"Well it was your idea."
"So, it was stupid and juvenile."
Actually I did think it was pretty damn funny, especially when the pig pooped all over the dance floor and Kathi Heldman slipped and fell in it. But I was grumpy and wanted to argue.
Nicholas put his hand into his stuffing and squished it, singing a song while he did it. Eileen said nothing. I think I had hurt her and I actually felt bad. I didn't know how to make it better though so I just quietly ate my food.
In the other room someone laughed a bit too loud. That was probably Auntie Jessie, a victim of too much wine, per usual. I wondered if she'd jokingly ask me if I wanted some, she did it every year. I've always wanted to just snatch the glass away form her and and down it, just to see everyone's reaction. I'm always in enough trouble though so I don't.
I ate my food quick and went into the parlor early. After everyone is done eating they all retire here and sit around and bullshit and get drunk on wine until it's time to go home. It's mega boring.
I sat on the plastic covered couch in Grandma's parlor and thought. I thought about how old the icky yellow carpet was. It had to be early 1970s. I thought about how old the ribbon candy on the coffee table was. It had to be early 1930s. I tried to grab a piece and it came out of the bowl in one big clump. I dropped it in disgust. Eventually I got bored listening to the voices in my head and the steady tick of the wall clock and sat down at the piano. I plinked a few notes. Eventually I figured out how to play Mary had a Little Lamb and ran through it in different styles. I played it slow and sad, fast and jaunty, and somber and march like. Nicholas must have heard me because he came in and sat down and tried to push me off the bench.
"I play now!" He yelled, shoving me with his pudgy hands.
I laughed, I couldn't help it.
"But don't you want to hear my song?"
"Mommy says that you're a bad girl and that you're going to get knocked up and live in a trailer and work at Walmart. She says that's what happens to bad girls."
I frowned and pushed off the bench.
"Yeah, well your mom's a drunk with a big mouth."
"Imma tell her you said that!"
"Good!" I yelled as I walked out the door.

Eileen didn't say anything as I ran past the kitchen and the kiddie table. None of the adults said anything either as I ran out of the dining room door into the front yard. I wondered if they'd miss me if I just left. I knew where the library was in Grandma's town and I could go there and sit till I felt like coming back but then I'd get in trouble and get grounded again. Or worse, I'd get a lecture from Uncle Rob on responsibility like I did last year.
So I wandered around the yard. It was cold out, even though it hadn't snowed yet. I hadn't grabbed my jacket or my shoes. I looked down at my bare feet and laughed. I don't know why I found it funny, I just did. Grandma's yard is really small and I walked around the house three times before I started to get bored and cold. I was about to go back in when I wandered close to the neighbors property line and saw the For Sale sign swinging in the breeze. Then I remembered Grandma talking about how about a month ago they had just packed up and left. They were never on really good terms but it was a small neighborhood and no one seemed to know why they had gone or where they went to, which was odd. If someone sneezes in church in Grandma's town everyone talks about like the world is coming to an end.
I causally sauntered up and looked at the sign swinging in the breeze and up at the curtained windows. I looked back at Grandma's house across the yard. I imagined them all sitting in the parlor and talking and laughing and not caring about what happened to me. The hate that surged through me caught me off guard. I calmed myself down. You shouldn't hate your family, that was just wrong. As I chastised myself for being selfish and stupid I walked up the front steps and tried the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. To my surprise it opened and I stepped out of the cold November air, into the empty house....

It was colder inside than it was out and I shivered and watched my breath form in the air. It was overcast outside so it was very gloomy inside. I have a thing about empty houses, they don't feel right. I like to think of houses as living things that absorb a bit of the people that live in them. They develop personalities through years of different people moving in an out, but when a house is between owners it feels empty and sad. And also a bit creepy, like the house is watching you to see if you're going to adopt it. Standing in that house, looking down the hallway into the kitchen, I was probably more creeped out then I have ever been in my entire life. But I didn't want to go back yet and walked up the carpeted stairs, slowly, looking behind me to make sure I wasn't being followed...

The first door I opened was a bathroom. No big deal. I opened up the medicine cabinet. They may have left in a hurry, but they took everything with them, not an empty pill bottle in sight. I closed the cabinet and half expected to see a face appear in the glass like a cheap horror movie scare. Nothing. But I did still have the odd feeling that I was being watched. Nothing in the bathtub either, except a huge amount of nasty hair stuck in the drain.
The next door a little farther down must have been a bedroom. I walked to the window and looked out at my Grandma's house. It looked so far away and I was suddenly struck with an attack of loneliness. I thought about going back but decided to try the rest of the upstairs doors first. The next door on the right must have been another bedroom, a kid's room by the looks of it. I don't know too many adult's that have race car wallpaper. In the closet I found a small toy army man sitting alone in the corner. Someone had chewed up his head pretty good. I left him where I had found him.
Surprisingly, the next door down was locked. That was odd. Who locks a room when they move? I thought about breaking the door down. I thought about how cool it would be to find a whole room that had been left untouched. Then mother's voice spoke up in my head. Little Marie, can't stay out of trouble, what's to become of you? I shoved the voice out of my head and put my hands on the door to give it a push to see how well it would give and pulled away in disgust. The door was warm. Couldn't be. I put my hands back on it. No, it was. It was very warm. As I wondered how such a thing could be, something thumped in the room behind the door and my heart started to race. Then it thumped again, this time nearer to the door and I ran down the hallway and down the stairs...

At the bottom of the stairs I stopped and listened. The house was quiet again. I laughed at my stupid imagination. I was about to go back outside when I noticed something in the living room off to the right. They had left a piece of furniture behind, an end table. Curiously I walked over to it and tried the handle on it's small door. It was locked. Well, that wasn't going to keep me out. I sat down in front of it and kicked. It took two tries before the door broke inward. Stupid flimsy Walmart junk, I thought and I pulled the door out.

Inside was a small scrapbook full of pictures. It was the usual stuff, lots of pictures of a wedding and kids playing in yards. Happy people sitting around drinking beer. An ordinary family album, sort of boring if you don't know who the people in the pictures are. But about the middle, it got weird. It started with a picture of a woman, slightly pregnant, posing in the living room with her small belly out. She was smiling at the cameraman, who I assumed was her husband. As the pictures went on her stomach got bigger and bigger till it ended with her looking tired, lying in a hospital bed, but still very much pregnant. Then there several blank pages where pictures had obviously been torn out. You could still see the outlines of where they were. Then it went back to pictures of the lady, non-pregnant sitting in the kitchen doing a crossword puzzle. It went on for a bit with a few half-hearted pictures of the yard and a small black dog and then it just ended. I puzzled over it. Maybe the baby had died and they had torn them out in grief? It sounded plausible. I was about to put it away when several pictures fell out of the back of the album. I picked them up and looked at them in the dim light. I covered my mouth to cut back a scream and my whole body suddenly felt cold.
Something thumped against the door upstairs and I threw the album back into the end table and ran out of the house as fast as I could.

I sat and listened to Uncle Rob blabbing on about his new desk job. I didn't mind. I didn't mind my drunk aunt, or little Nicholas pounding away at the piano. It kept what I had seen out of my head for the time being, even though I knew that I would have nightmares for a long time. Plus it felt normal, it felt real. It felt safe.
On the way to the bathroom, I caught my sister coming back and surprised her by apologizing for what I had said earlier. I surprised her even more by giving her a hug. She didn't push me away though.
In the bathroom, I sat on the closed toilet and put my head in my hands and cried. After I felt back together again, I walked back into the parlor,sat down at the piano and taught Nicholas how to play Mary had a Little Lamb.

When we left that night I tried not to look at the empty house across the yard, but I ended up looking anyways. It sat in the dark, and empty forlorn thing, inviting me to come back to it, to stay forever. I wondered how long it was going to be before the thing upstairs got out. I told myself not to think about it. I've been thinking about it all week.

This is obviously fiction. I told you to write a true story about Thanksgiving and you give me this rubbish. You get an F for this paper and an F for the semester. I look forward to seeing you in class next year. Maybe then you'll be serious enough to get a passing grade.
-Mrs. Grieves

[I probably left out a couple of good stories and poems. I tried to put the first Choose Your Own Fate on here but I couldn't get it to look right. That one HAS to be in the book collection though!]