tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38151700783523913502024-03-13T12:16:23.492-07:00The New Bizarro Author SeriesOfficial homepage for the 2015 - 2016 NBAS by Eraserhead PressKarl Fischerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14874163385169816178noreply@blogger.comBlogger59125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-61443256569763221972017-01-02T16:59:00.000-08:002017-01-02T16:59:17.824-08:00Anime-Inspired Fiction Contest!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Howdy folx,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here are each of the entries that were received for the Anime-Inspired fiction contest. Magical Girls, 80's style action, and more! One of the submitted stories even came with a piece of artwork from the author. Congratulations to Ben Arzate and S.T. Cartledge on winning First Place. Enjoy! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">-M</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">Content Trigger Warning: Some of these stories contain disturbing and/or very NSFW content. Reader discretion is advised.</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Violent Bitch Hitomi</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">by Ben Arzate</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hitomi put her thick glasses on and went out to the balcony. She picked up the Harlequin romance novel on the chair, sat down, and started reading. Across the street, a building was being reconstructed. She often wondered how that office building got leveled in the Great Collapse, but this dingy apartment building was somehow almost untouched. The roof got fucked up and it was without power for a year, but that was nothing compared to what happened through most of the city. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hitomi sat reading. She got lost in the fantasy on the pages until she was snapped out by the barking and yelling that came from up the street. She peered over the balcony. Jack came into view and ran across the parking lot below her. The black hound crouched down and sprang up. It hopped the two floors and landed on the balcony. Hitomi kneeled down, looking down at the black dog's three eyes and scratching his head to calm him. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“What's going on, Jack?” she said. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Jack responded. She had never gotten used to the way he spoke. Most heard it as just barking. Hitomi heard it both as barking and speaking. It was like she was wearing a pair of headphones where nothing but woofing came through the left ear while clear English came in through the right. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“You've got to get downtown, Hitomi!” Jack said, accompanied by barks. “Some G.E.T members got a hold of a neohuman and took over the Radford Credit Union building! They're turning the place into a damn slaughterhouse!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The God of the End Times cult. They were a bunch of psychos who believed that the Great Collapse was the first stage of the return of God and they were the chosen people to bring about the end of humanity and begin the final judgment. They were probably the most dangerous of all the groups that popped up after the Collapse. They were set on human genocide and had no fear of death whatsoever, they were fanatics convinced they'd be sent straight to heaven. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hitomi nodded. She ran back inside and threw the book on the bed. She sat the glasses on her dresser and pulled her jeans and T-shirt off, revealing a bright red leotard with several rips under her clothes. She ran back out on the balcony as Jack jumped off. She grabbed the railing of the balcony and flipped over it, landing next to Jack on her feet. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Jack took off past the parking lot and down the road with Hitomi following close behind. As Jack began to outrun her, Hitomi dropped to all fours and began catching up. The black and red blurs rushed across the cracked pavement, dodging the many sections cordoned off for rebuilding.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">* * *</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hitomi and Jack arrived at the Radford building. A large crowd of onlookers was standing behind the tape the City Guard had set up. Several soldiers stood at the ready just outside the building, a tank parked in the front of all of them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Jack and Hitomi slowed down and weaved through the crowd to the soldier yelling through a megaphone. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“For the last time,” the soldier said, “this is an extremely dangerous situation! Keep your distance! The next one who comes too close will be arrested on sight!” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The soldier turned away. Hitomi walked up and taped the soldier on the soldier. The soldier whipped back around. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Goddammit!” he yelled. He stopped and saw her standing there. “Oh, it's you.” he said. “Don't do that. Get over here, I'll lead you to the lieutenant.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The solder lead Hitomi and Jack past the others to the front, near where the tank was parked. As she got closer, she could see there a big hole blown in the side of the building. Three dead bodies were sprawled out in front of it, they were torn to shreds. Once upon the time, the sight of those mangled carcasses would have made Hitomi gag, but by now she'd seen things a thousand times worse. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Lieutenant,” the solider said to the man in uniform next to the tank. Lt. Rodriguez turned to them. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Ah! Good, you're here. I guess Jack here filled you in on what happened,” he said. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Most of it. Any idea if anyone innocent is still alive in there?” Hitomi said. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“We're not sure, but we're pretty certain there is,” Lt. Rodriguez said. “It's why we haven't just shelled the place until there's nothing left. Better to lose the building than let those lunatics and that freak get away. But we can't risk it if anyone else is still alive. That's why we're sending you in.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Careful lieutenant,” she said. “I'm one of those 'freaks' too.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“You're not anywhere near this, baby,” he said, “This neohuman's a stage five. I have no idea how those G.E.T guys got this thing here without it tearing them to apart. It's been running loose in there and killing everyone in sight. We've got snipers taking shots through the windows, but they don't even faze it.” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Stage five was the worst of the neohumans. They were more beast than human in appearance and behavior and were incredibly hostile, driven by base hunger and nothing else. Hitomi herself was a rare stage three. Her mutation during the Great Collapse had changed her profoundly but she had full control of it and maintained all her senses. Like most of the known stage threes, she'd been recruited by the New Federation of City-States as a soldier. Hitomi preferred to think of herself as a superhero rather than a soldier, though. It offered little solace, but in times like this, you take what you can get. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">She nodded to the lieutenant. “If there's anyone alive, I'll get them out.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">With that, she transformed. It brought to mind a werewolf movie in the way her nails and teeth sprang out like switchblades, a wispy layer of hair appeared on her arms, hair, and cheeks, and her limbs extended. By the time she had finished, she towered over Lt. Rodriguez who was normally a head taller than her. The red leotard she wore had gained two more rips, clinging tightly on to her now much larger body.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">With Jack by her side, she stomped into the Radford building. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">* * * </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">As Hitomi entered the lobby, the smell of blood hit her hard. Mutilated bodies, torn up limbs, and intestines were littered about. Much of the furniture had been destroyed and the cubicles nearby had been flattened. Bullet holes were in the walls and floor. Hitomi shook her head and headed towards the counter. She saw that a hole had been torn in the ceiling behind it. Before she had a chance to investigate it, she heard gunshots. She ran toward the sound and found it was coming from the vault. The door was open and she saw a man in fatigues and a balaclava with his back turned to her standing in the doorway. She saw he was holding an AK. She approached him slowly. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Just before she got to him, a similarly dressed man in the vault shouted to him. He quickly turned around to face her. It was too late. She grabbed his head and slammed it hard against the wall. He slid into a heap on the floor, his blood leaving a streak on the vault wall. She turned to the other man in the vault. He was standing next to a group of tellers and customers kneeling on the ground. They were all clearly frightened. One woman lay on the ground with a fresh gunshot wound in her forehead, a young boy was crying over her body. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">He started firing on Hitomi. The bullets hitting her felt like someone trying to flick her all over her body. She advanced towards him quickly. Seeing that his gun wasn't working on the neohuman woman in front of him, he turned it towards the crowd. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Stop heathen! Leave now or I'll shoot them all!” he said. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hitomi stopped and raised her hands. She started to back away. While the G.E.T cultist was focused on her, Jack sprinted between her legs. He leaped at the cultist's throat and bit it out. The cultist squeezed the trigger, but the burst of gun fire hit the wall. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Jack spat out the man's flesh and blood. “Piece of shit. He must have been trying to win some conversions and shooting those that refused,” Jack turned to Hitomi. “I'll watch these folks. You go take care of the rest of these crazy fucks and the neohuman.” </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Right. I'll be back soon,” she said. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">As Hitomi exited the vault, Jack started licking the face of the boy crying over the dead woman, trying to comfort him. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">* * *</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hitomi had climbed up six floors. Each one of floors reeked of blood. It was times like this, she hated her enhanced sense of smell. She encountered G.E.T members on each of the floors. They impotently fired on her and she sent them all to the heaven they were working for. She slashed at them, caved in their skulls, tore them half. With every floor she got more vicious to the cultists as she got angrier from the carnage she witnessed on each one. She kept following holes in the ceiling, tracking the stage fiver. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The sixth floor was strangely clean and quiet. It had clearly been empty, even before the cult had shown up. Despite that, it smelled even worse than all the other floors. The blood was still there, but there was something else that she didn't recognize. She followed her nose to a corner office. A pool of blood was seeping out from under the door. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hitomi threw the office door open. The stench was like a punch in the face. The room looked worse than the rest of the building. It was like someone had taken a paint roller and worked the place over with a bucket of blood. There were even more bodies here, but Hitomi saw that most of them were G.E.T members. Most were missing limbs or their heads, their intestines lay spilled out of their abdomens. A few looked like they had been split clean down the middle from the groin up. In the corner, the stage fiver sat gnawing on one of the bodies. It resembled a bird from the waist up, covered in feathers, a head like an eagle, talons for hands, and wings on its back. The lower half resembled a naked man's. Its legs were muscular and it sported a massive hard on. It had clearly turned on the cult when it ran out of others to feed on.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The stage fiver looked up at Hitomi and let out a screech that rattled the windows, the dead cultist's guts falling from its beak. She clapped her hands over her ears. The smell and the sound disoriented her. By the time she realized the stage fiver was flying at her, it was too late. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The stage fiver knocked her on her back and swiped at her face with one of its talons. She cried out as it dug three deep cuts in her face, its claw barely missing her eye. It swung with its other talon, but Hitomi was able to crane her neck away from it. It still scratched her but not nearly as deep. As it was about to bring its other talon back down, she reached up and grabbed it. The stage fiver squawked in confusion. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hitomi sent a hook right into its face. It would have been sent straight across the room had she not had a grip on it. Instead, it flopped hard right next to her. Its beak had nearly cracked in half from Hitomi's blow. She stood up, let its talon go, and brought her foot down on to its chest. Its body shook, still squawking, and buried its claws in her calf muscle. She grit her teeth and winced, but pressed her foot down harder. She bent down and stuck her own claws in the stage fiver's feathery neck. It screeched louder and louder until, with one good yank, she pulled its head clean off. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The head went dead and silent right away, but the body went spastic. It shook like it was having a seizure, flapping its wings, flailing its arms and legs as blood sprayed out of the stump of its neck. Before it finally went limp, it ejaculated all over its own feathers. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Once upon a time, a sight like that would have made Hitomi throw up. Instead, she lifted the stage fiver's head up, spit in it, and tossed it aside. She limped over to the window and examined her face in her reflection in the window. The cuts on the one side of her face were deep, but they'd heal without any problems. She bent down and licked the wounds on her leg, the same was true of the bleeding holes in her calf. She'd suffered worse without even being scarred. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">As she headed back down to the vault, she transformed back to her normal self. She figured after what the people in the vault at been through, they'd probably prefer to be lead out to safety by someone who at least looked like a normal human. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">END</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><i><span class="_5yl5"><span><span>Ben Arzate lives in Des Moines, IA. He writes and he lives life, often forgetting to do the latter. His poetry and fiction have appeared in various places online and in print, including Bizarro Central, The Mustache Factor, Ugly Babies, TwentySomething Press, and Pretty Owl Poetry. He is a contributor to Cultured Vultures and blogs at </span><a href="http://dripdropdripdropdripdrop.blogspot.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">dripdropdripdropdripdrop.blogspot.com.</a><span> His first poetry book, the sky is black and blue like a battered child, is available on Amazon.</span></span></span></i></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-7f820fe2-61b8-6dd9-a124-6f65bfc3959f" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">SUPER MAGICAL BAKA-CHAN!</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-7f820fe2-61b8-6dd9-a124-6f65bfc3959f" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">by S.T. Cartledge </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Haru Toriyama lay down on Shinji Otomo's bed with her English notebook propped open on his pillow and a photocopy of 'The Yellow Wallpaper' by Charlotte Perkins Gilman right beside it. The short story was covered in notes and green highlighter, and she was expanding the notes into an essay in her notebook. Shinji sat at his desk with his computer open to a webpage detailing the history of aliens both on earth and out in space, and how their existence has been hidden for centuries.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Shinji and Haru were both fifteen, and they had been in the same classes at school their whole lives. Shinji had short brown hair and grey-green eyes. He was skinny, and his hairless face made him look about 12 years old, even though he had grown about a foot and a half in the last year. His bedroom walls were plastered with posters of aliens, UFOs, and other mystical creatures like dragons and yetis which were rumoured to exist. His bookshelves were loaded with manga and anime - Dragon Ball & Dragon Ball Z, Akira, Death Note, Ghost in the Shell, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, but his favourites were the works of Tsutomu Nihei - Blame!, Biomega, Knights of Sidonia.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Haru liked to read his manga too, Fullmetal Alchemist was her favourite, although her bookshelves at home were filled more with novels than comics. Kurt Vonnegut, Richard Brautigan, Haruki Murakami, China Mieville, amongst many others. Her hair was shoulder-length dirty blonde, and her eyes were a bright emerald green. Her school uniform consisted of a white shirt with a light green bow, dark green plaid skirt, knee high white socks. Her shoes were flat and black with a silver buckle. She wore a green headband in her hair. Her phone on the bed buzzed and dinged. Its rubber case was a Totoro smiling up at her. She picked it up and stared at the message.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Ah!" she said.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">When are you coming home? - Mum</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The time was 6:45PM.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">She sprung off the bed and folded her schoolwork up, dumping it into her bag in one swift motion.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Shinji-san, I was meant to be home half an hour ago."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I'll walk you home," he said.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Thanks," Haru said, "But I'll be okay. Bye Shinji!"</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">She walked past Yoshi's room and he leaned into the hallway and called out, "Hey Toriyama, nice ass!"</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">She ignored him and went straight for the front door.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Hey Shinji, have you shown her your dick yet?"</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Fuck you!" Shinji called back.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Haru was out the door and down the street, heart beating hard, those words ringing in her head.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Shinji doesn't think of me that way, does he? We're friends. Just friends. And Yoshi, the gross pervert. Never in a million years.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Her eyes were misty, and she gazed vacantly out into the dark, cloudy sky. Her feet knew the way back home from walking the path a million times. Her phone buzzed and dinged again.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Well? Your dinner is getting cold. - Mum</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">She unlocked her phone and typed back.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Sorry! Studying at Shinji's. OMW now - Haru</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Baka! Hurry up, your mum is FLIPPING OUT!!! - Dad</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">She started replying to her father, but the sound of a nearby explosion ripped her attention from the screen. A loud cry rang out through the twilight air, half a cry for help and half a cry in pain. Haru found herself running towards it, phone clutched tight in hand, scanning the street for signs of the victim or the damage from the explosion. The cries grew louder and transformed into screams of absolute pain and terror. Her run became a sprint. The victim's desperation soaked into Haru and inflicted her with panic. What could cause such terrible sounds?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A nearby lamp post flickered on and off outside the local Blockbuster Video store which had closed down a few years back. The light flashed down on the footpath, what looked like blood. A trail disappearing down the laneway between Blockbuster and the bakery next door. She followed the blood as it turned black in the shadow of the buildings. The laneway was dim, but Haru could make out the dulled images of bright graffiti art covering the walls. There were a few shitty tags, but the majority of the walls were taken up by murals of dragons and tigers, and a big beautiful girl in the middle with long dark hair and silver eyes, wearing an intricate black and white layered dress with red trimming and lace. Her face was the expression of pure joy, so innocent and sweet.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">And yet Haru could see from the light cast down from the street on the other side, the silhouette of two figures down the far end. The attacker standing over the victim, his body was a dark mass of misshapen muscles, lumps upon lumps of flesh moving and growing, taking up more space in the laneway by the moment. His fingers were sharp talons held up high before gouging down savagely into the victim's soft belly. She screamed like hell, and Haru stood there part-way down the laneway struck in silent horror, watching helplessly, wondering if the grotesque thing would come for her next, if she should run and call for help, would it be too late? What if here and now was her only chance to help this poor woman?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The screaming shook Haru to tears. She felt an anger and frustration directed at herself, welling up, ready to burst. She clutched her head and cursed herself for not knowing what to do, for lacking the impulse to do something. For that fucking joy-filled face on that mural mocking, tormenting, putting on this facade while this space was consumed by violence.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A burst of golden light came from the mural, from the girl's face, and the whole laneway became illuminated with its warm aura. There was a girl in the flesh, matching the image of the mural, landing in the middle. She had knee-high boots, shiny and black. Her hair flowed down past her waist. The attacker looked up at the magical girl. He stepped away from his victim and towards the girl. By her light Haru could see clearly now that this thing was not human, definitely not human. Some mutant form of cancerous rot, a necrotic being waving his bloody red fingers at the girl.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Haru crouched by the wall, trying to make herself smaller. In the new light she didn't want to beast to discover her too. He charged at the magical girl, but she stood strong, confident, and fired a disc of light from her hand, which ripped humming through the air and sliced off a layer of black pulsing flesh from the beast's face.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Stay back!" the girl called out to Haru.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The beast tumbled along the ground and howled in pain. The girl jumped out of the way and fired another disc at the beast, cutting its leg clean off.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">On the far side, the injured woman lay on the ground, clothes torn, flesh shining red with her blood. She was gasping in pain, drained of all energy. She was dying.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The beast hobbled onto his foot and tried to leap at the girl. Haru sprung from her spot and sprinted past the beast and the girl.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I said stay back!" the girl said.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The beast grazed a claw against her arm, ripping a strip of flesh away. She spun around and blew his arm off. She winced in pain as he writhed on the ground. She fired a disc of light into his chest which tore it to shreds. The beast was still.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Haru leaned over the woman, sobbing, holding her gently, dabbing at the blood, trying to put pressure on the wounds to keep her from bleeding. The woman screamed. She tried to push Haru back but she was too weak. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her body gave up its fight. She lay limp on the ground, blood oozing over her body, covering every bit of flesh. The blood glittered in the light and melted away at the body until there was just a puddle and a pile of shredded clothes. The clothes were similar to the girl's. A black and white dress, but this one had purple woven into it, purple laced and ribboned and now torn and soaked in sparkling blood.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">There was a lump in the puddle, a shiny metal orb. Haru plucked it up and clutched it tight. It was warm.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Haru, what did I tell you?" the girl said.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">She turned to Haru from the defeated beast. She ignored the wound down her arm, instead staring at Haru, taking notice of the orb she had picked up.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Put that thing down right now, Haru. Put it down and go home," she said.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The voice sounded familiar. This girl was so brave and awesome. Haru tried to put the orb down, but it was stuck to her. It pressed into her hands and the metal morphed its way onto her flesh and up her arms. It moved quickly. It burned off her clothes and coated her whole body. When it was done her body turned black and glittered with starlight. A dress burst out from within. It hugged her body perfectly, comfortable, and billowed out around the black and white striped stockings on her legs. She had bright green ribbons and lace on her dress, a massive green bow in her hair, which now hung down past her shoulders.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"No," the girl said. "No, no, no. This can't happen." She smacked herself in the head. "Baka. Baka! BAKA!" She screamed into the night and fell to her knees.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Yuuko-chan?" Haru said softly.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The girl looked up. "I'm sorry Haru. You should never have been mixed up in this."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Her skin flashed with space, glittering stars, then her clothes transformed into a plain white shirt and black skirt. Her hair was shorter now, sitting just above her waist.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Yuuko-chan! Your arm..." Haru said.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Yuuko's wound flashed a bright white light and then disappeared.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Don't worry about me, little sister, look at what you've become." Yuuko got to her feet and helped Haru up.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"What is this, Yuuko? What happened?" Haru said.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"You're a magical girl now," Yuuko gestured at the dress. "You have incredible power within you, but the demons will be hunting you now."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Demons?" Haru said. "That thing... was a-"</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"A demon, yes. Tortured souls. Dark creatures who want to inflict pain on others." Yuuko said. "But don't worry, I will protect you."</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Yuuko pulled Haru into a hug. Haru stared at the body of the demon behind Yuuko. Its dead flesh had melted away. Where the demon's face had been sliced off, there was human flesh. Its dismembered limbs and its shredded torso were human.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"Ah! Yuuko-chan, why does that thing look like a human?" Haru said.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Yuuko pulled back from her hug, held Haru by the shoulders and looked right into her eyes. "You need to remember that demons are very dangerous creatures, Haru. They poison human bodies and transform into monsters like the one you saw here. When they're dead, they take on human form once again."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I don't want them to hunt me," Haru said.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"I know," Yuuko said. She pulled Haru back into another hug. "I didn't want that for you either. I will keep you safe. I promise."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Haru's body flashed with space and her school uniform returned. She clutched her sister tight and wished she could never let go.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span class="_5yl5"><span>S.T. Cartledge is a bizarro/weird fiction author and poet from Perth, Western Australia. He has published four books: House Hunter, Day of the Milkman, Beautiful Madness (poetry), and Kaiju Canyon, and two books coming soon in 2017: The Orphanarium (Eraserhead Press) and Girl in the Glass Planet (Bizarro Pulp Press). He has 2 dogs and 6 cats. He loves his manga and anime with a good dose of science fiction and/or horror, the works of Tsutomu Nihei being a prime example.</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">by Amber Fallon </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The roar of the crowd mingled with the salty sweet aroma of blood, bandages, beer, and stale popcorn. The clatter of roller skates on the polished and pitted wooden track added to the din as the girls rounded a corner, speeding after one another in a mayhem ballet, a tournament of turbulence and destruction. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Huddled below one of the plastic bench seats in the Bleeder Box at the forefront of the arena, a small boy watched the action from a rat’s eye perspective. The tot was separated from the gruesome track only by a section of dirty chain link fence which had bits of something reddish, rust or maybe blood, clinging to it at random intervals. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Headphones that were far too large for the boy clamped his small head like a vice, leaving his pale blonde hair sticking out at odd angles. Smooth, resounding notes of classical music played through the earpieces, echoing above the din and adding to the illusion of some sort of ghastly dance being acted out in front of him - a haunting melody the backdrop as Terrifying Tara ripped Deadly Darlene to shreds. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The lean, long limbed forms of the combatants whirled and twirled in violent motion so much like a passionate dance. Only inches separated them at times. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A crescendo peaked as blood splashed across the shining hardwood, speckled with teeth and bits of bone and gore. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Tara ripped through Darlene’s torso with a long blade fastened to her forearm with thick bolts, sending bits of gristle and a ropey length of intestine into the cluster of clamoring fans pressed up against the fence blocking in the tight confines of the Trauma Track. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Darlene arched back, blood spraying in a crimson fountain as an aria contrasted with the brutal scene, everything reflected in the small boy’s huge eyes. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Terrifying Tara licked her shining blade and grinned at the crowd. The patchwork of multihued flesh, held together with uneven stitches and gleaming staples, stretched and pulled in slightly different directions across her ghoulish face. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Tara soaked in the cheers and cat calls, pausing for just a moment, a fatal mistake. In that second when Tara swam in her reverie, drinking in the glory of her kill like wine, Gory Goldie dashed forward, laying a burst of savage speed, coming around the corner with a shattering surprise - a bone splintering bludgeon to Tara’s head. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Tara went down inches from the Bleeder Box, mismatched fingers twitching as she spasmed; death - and defeat - a dire welcome. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Gory Goldie threw up her arms in triumph, but she would not make the same mistake as her unfortunate victim. She swung around in the same fluid motion, with the beauty and grace of the woodwinds that accompanied her movements over the small boy’s headphones, and swung her weapon, acting almost on instinct. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A dark length of battered metal connected solidly just under Violet Viscera’s chin, sending her reeling and spinning, crashing against the fence where the rabid spectators tore her to bits, reaching their hungry, grasping hands through the wide links and finishing the job for a grateful Goldie. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Now only two girls remained in the arena; Goldie herself and the spectacle that was the heretofore undefeated Murderous Marcy. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ancient looking Christmas lights, strung around the arena like stars, glinted off of Marcy’s armor like a beetle’s carapace. She grinned a humorless grin that was a bit off kilter and slightly too wide on one side. Goldie screamed, roaring a challenge that sounded like an arpeggio to the ears of a small boy as the floor began to tremble, a tumultuous dance to the stomping feet of the fans, bloodthirsty hungry for destruction. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The girls danced their deadly dance, careening faster and faster as they closed in on each other, speeding past the voracious viewers, weapons, armor, pale, bruised and bleeding flesh a blur in the dim and dismal artificial light. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The boy’s breath hung still, caught in is throat as his eyes darted over the scene, enrapt and entranced by the obliterating operetta taking place on the track. His fingers played smoothly over a small square control box in front of him, red and black buttons and the slender shaft of a joystick dancing like the girls as they neared each other for the final furious fight. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Violins and violence, flutes and fury, pianos and pain, all became one as the boy’s agile digits darted over the device in front of him. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A twist! And Goldie parried Marcy’s devastating attack, knocking her off balance and nearly ending the fight right there. A flick of the wrist and Goldie was back on her feet, vigilance and violence restored. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The sanguinary sonata played on as once again Marcy sped around a corner, scraping her blade along the arena's one concrete wall, a shower of sparks marking her passing as the crowd called for the kill. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Goldie swept in close but once again Marcy dodged the brutal blow, staving off defeat for one more moment. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A symphony of agonies both real and imagined awaited the loser, the bitter taste of dishonor and defeat, and then respite. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The remaining pieces of the girls would be gathered up and brought to the chop shop below the arena where they would be combined with whatever pilfered parts had been scavenged for the wanton workshop, vile preparations for another scintillating show. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Goldie’s blade glinted, glittering in the dim glow of the multicolored lights as Marcy made her move, darting forward on pink skates. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Marcy whipped around the corner, feinting right and delivering a devastating decapitation with a well-timed sweep of her arm. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Elsewhere in the arena, an electric guitar screeched a high pitched chord into the ears of a small, dark haired girl in a ratty red velvet dress. She giggled as she set down her control box and wiped a stray splatter of blood from her cheek. Her victory tasted as sweet as candy.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Amber Fallon lives in Massachusetts with her husband and two dogs. A techie by day and horror writer by night, Mrs. Fallon has spent time as a bank manager, motivational speaker, produce wrangler, and butcher. Her obsessions with sushi, glittery nail polish, and sharp objects have made her a recognized figure.<br />Amber's publications include The Terminal, Daughters of Inanna, So Long and Thanks for All the Brains, Horror on the Installment Plan, Zombies For a Cure, Quick Bites of Flesh, Operation Ice Bat, and more!<br />For more information, please visit her at www.amberfallon.net and listen to her podcast, It Cooks!</span></i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O94siBidFY8/WGrzpbIVOJI/AAAAAAAABJE/iMey_BerFKgKsuhrUM7DpnpuB-fMI2npgCLcB/s1600/15491870_1405774009447211_589243297_o.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O94siBidFY8/WGrzpbIVOJI/AAAAAAAABJE/iMey_BerFKgKsuhrUM7DpnpuB-fMI2npgCLcB/s320/15491870_1405774009447211_589243297_o.png" width="265" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Little Akane in Slumberland </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> by </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="_5yl5"><span>Jimmye Winburn</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="_5yl5"><span> </span></span><br /> After a night so fitful and unsettling that Akane couldn’t now be sure whether she was awake or dreaming, she discovered Ranma-chan floating into her room.<br /> “Ranma? Why are you floating?”<br /> She smiled and said, “It’s a new technique.”<br /> “Where did you learn how to do this?”<br /> Ranma floated closer to her bed. “From China. All the best techniques come from China. Don’t you think?”<br /> Akane pulled her covers closer.<br /> Ranma held out her hand with a surprisingly feminine and delicate motion, given her girl form gestures generally usually mirroring those of her boy form. “Let me show you,” she said. “I promise you’ll like it.”<br /> Akane was reluctant to come out from behind her blanket. “Why are you a girl now? Did you fall into the pond again?”<br /> “No, nothing like that.” Ranma circled in the air over her bed like a dog settling into its bed. She pulled the blanket away, but gently as Akane did not resist.<br /> “Ah,” said Ranma, as she saw that Akane was without clothing. “So you DO hate men after all.”<br /> “I don’t hate men. Just you.”<br /> “Then we’re in luck,” she said, offering her hand once more. “So do I.”<br /> Akane took the proffered hand in hers. She was taken with how similar Ranma-chan’s hand was to hers. She had the curious notion that she was somehow holding her own hand. Without thinking how she was able to so, Akane too floated up into the air. <br /> Ranma pulled their clasped hands up between them so that each could feel the other’s breasts. This movement flipped the women around in the air and brought their faces up that they were almost touching. Akane was startled. “Ranma!”<br /> “You don’t really hate me, do you, Akane?” She looked at Akane’s lips for a moment.<br /> “Your boy form is--”<br /> “A jerk. Yes, I know. But you don’t hate ME, do you?”<br /> “I…I…”<br /> “I’m so glad.” Ranma came forward and pressed her lips against Akane’s. Akane did not kiss back, but she didn’t pull away either. “So glad.” <br /> Akane brought her free hand up and rested it on Ranma’s arm, now devoid of her customary Chinese shirt. Ranma’s free arm then came around to embrace Akane. Both arms adjusted until they were locked in a firm but gentle embrace. Akane’s head rested on Ranma’s shoulder. She was taken with how soft Ranma’s skin was. She could feel the warmth of her breath on Ranma’s neck as though she were experiencing everything that Ranma did.<br /> “So glad,” Ranma whispered.<br /> Akane was only slightly aware that her bedroom had vanished and that the two were flying through the air. She didn’t know how high up they were. It wasn’t important. There was nothing around them but clouds, star, and the moon. Indeed, distance itself seemed meaningless, as though she could reach out and touch the moon yet extend her toes to glance along the top of the clouds. <br /> Ranma released Akane’s hand and brought her arm up to feel Akane’s shoulder. She then caressed down her side. Akane could again feel how Ranma relished the softness of her skin and the outline of her curves. They were no longer two people but one, each one feeling what the other felt. It didn’t seem like lovemaking nor did Akane think of it that way. It was simply the worship of everything female. It was softness. It was warmth. And most of all, it was beautiful. Akane half vocalized that one word over and over… beautiful… beautiful… beautiful.<br /> They were so in tune with each other that when Ranma caressed down Akane’s hips and rested it at her thigh, there was no need to give permission. Akane arched her back and spread her legs slightly. Without comment, Ranma’s hand floated over Akane’s thigh and came to rest at the hairs of her womanhood. Not only could Akane feel Ranma’s burgeoning excitement as she slowly tickled the hairs of Akane’s soft bush, but she knew that Ranma could feel what she felt.<br /> Ranma opened her eyes for one brief moment then kissed Akane again. The gentleness and firmness of the kiss was matched by the gentleness and firmness of her two fingers as they pressed slowly into the center of Akane’s being.<br /> Ranma’s fingers lingered for a time as the women savored feeling what the other was feeling and knew that the other was feeling the same.<br /> As her fingers deeply caressed Akane’s dewy flower, the self-referential experiences folded in on themselves. Akane knew what Ranma could feel what she felt and knew that Ranma knew that she knew. Akane was nearly dizzy with the experiences extending out like the repeating images of parallel mirrors. <br /> As her mind floated out the infinity of it all, the dream faded and she realized that she was in her own bed. The last vestiges of the dream dissolved and she opened her eyes.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="_5yl5"><span>Jimmye Winburn excels at performing, composition, fiction writing, playwrighting, sculpture, cartooning, and painting, but she also has a near pathological inability to actually sell anything she produces, which means she will always remain obscure and forgotten by all but a handful of friends.</span></span></span></i> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Malice in AnimeLand<br /> by Katherine J. Parker<br /><br /><br />“Hah! Hah! Hah! No! Not there! Senpai! I’m going to—Ahhhaaa!”<br /><br />Malice giggled, peeking into her brother’s room through the door he left slightly ajar. She couldn’t see him, but she could see his TV. He always watched the funniest cartoons.<br /><br />“Mary Alice!” the pig-tailed teenager spun at the familiar scolding tone of Anna May. “What are you doing?”<br /><br />“Shh!” Malice shoved her petite hand over Anna’s mouth, trying not to giggle as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “Oni-san is-”<br /><br />“Malice!” the sliver of golden light behind Mary Alice widened at the same pace as her grin.<br /><br />“Oops.” She spun, her pleated skirt turning into a razor sharp disc above her stocking-covered thighs, “Hello Oni-san.”<br /><br />---<br /><br />“Malice is such a pain.” Tommy threw himself back on his bed.<br /><br />“I wish you’d stop calling her that.” Anna sighed, sitting with her back to his desk. If she tipped the chair far enough back, her curly red hair fell in rivulets onto the surface of Tommy’s desk and he could almost see her panties. “And stop watching so much hentai.”<br /><br />“I like hentai.” Tommy said, rolling onto his side to stare at Anna. He knew he shouldn’t be trying to see up her skirt, being her brother and all, but he tried anyway.<br /><br />Sometimes Tommy wondered how he and his twin could share the same DNA, let alone the same womb at the same time. Anna May was soft, a little round, and large breasted with big blue eyes. The last was a trait she shared with Mary Alice. Tommy, on the other hand, was tall and lean and dark-haired, and, worst of all, he had boring black eyes that never seemed to open all the way. Anna May looked like Mom, but Tommy looked like Dad. Nobody knew who Mary Alice looked like. She had never really fit in, but sort of completed their odd little trio.<br /><br /><br />---<br /><br />Anna didn’t understand her brother- or her sister, for that matter, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was that they had each other. She spun slowly in Tommy’s desk chair, making sure that when she stopped, he couldn’t see anything but skirt and leg. Tommy didn’t mean to be a perv, he was just a 19-year old boy with a big dick in a house full of girls.<br /><br />“Maybe if you stopped watching it all the time, Mal—Mary Alice wouldn’t spy on you so much.” She leaned over and picked up a pair of dirty underwear, throwing them at Tommy’s face. “And your underwear wouldn’t be cement.”<br /><br />Tommy blushed and Anna felt a little better.<br /><br />---<br /><br />Malice dug at the bottom of her closet, her pert little butt sticking up in the air. She knew it was in here. She just knew it was.<br /><br />Half a dozen colorful temari balls rolled across the bamboo floor and she wiggled. <br /><br />“Where is it?” She threw an unidentifiable plush chibi over her shoulder, seven or eight more following quickly behind it before an “AHA!” emerged from beneath the hems of four or five… dozen… costumes.<br /><br />As she wiggled her way backwards, she drug a shoebox out of the closet. Flipping the dusty lid open, she giggled.<br /><br />“Here it is!” She extracted a little black bottle with a pink cupcake on the label and used her thump to pop the plastic cork. She pressed the mouth of the bottle to her lips and threw her head back.<br /><br />---<br /><br />Gross.<br /><br />Tommy huffed and threw his underwear back on the floor. They stunk.<br /><br />“What else am I supposed to beat off t-” he started to protest to Anna’s criticisms, but was stopped when his TV turned on all.<br /><br />“You’re late! You’re late!” the childish voice escaped from the speakers, a flicker of color crossing the screen. “You’re late for a very important date!”<br /><br />“Turn that off.” Anna said, stopping the slow spinning of the office chair she sat in.<br /><br />“I don’t have the remote.” Tommy said, sitting up. Surely enough, the remote sat by Anna on the desk. She frowned and reached for it, chubby fingers wrapping around the black plastic rectangle.<br /><br />“Don’t you dare.” Malice said as she appeared on the screen with a flourish. Her black and green sailor outfit was now a cascade of color, and her blonde pigtails were a shimmery gold that trailed stardust.<br /><br />Anna stopped and Tommy leaned forward.<br /><br />“What?”<br /><br />“Mary Alice!”<br /><br />Malice giggled, spinning to fill the screen with golden stardust. When it cleared, a forest of dancing flowers surrounded her, swaying and singing. She leaned in close to the screen, just her head, neck and bouncing breasts visible, the bows at the top of each of her pigtails turning into wiggling caterpillars.<br /><br />“Your late.” She said again.<br /><br />“What are you talking about?” Tommy asked, sitting on the edge of his bed, right in front of the TV.<br /><br />“Not you, silly. Anna May.”<br /><br />“What about her?” Tommy said as Anna stared, mouth agape.<br /><br />“Anna May… be pregnant!” Malice giggled again, dipping and dancing among the flowers. She leaped high into the sky, until the flowers grew small, and then did a flip, before falling… falling… falling back to ground, smashing a million tiny, singing flowers. <br /><br />Their screams shattered Anna and Tommy’s ears.<br /><br />---<br /><br />Anna continued to stare, aghast. How did she even know?<br /><br />“I know everything when I’m in here. Everything that matters, anyway.” Malice answered her unspoken question, rolling in the bloodied flowers, making sure to catch any she missed in her first go.<br /><br />The screen filled with hearts and Malice disappeared, the TV turning off.<br /><br />Anna turned on Tommy. “What is going on!? Are you playing some kind of-“<br /><br />“Oni-san isn’t doing anything, except getting a hard-on.”<br /><br />Tommy’s computer screen flickered on, the tower off. The monitor was filled with perky breasts in red and white fabric.<br /><br />“Ooops, I’m up here.” Malice giggled and backed away, bending down. A golden crown set atop her sparkling pigtails.<br /><br />“I do not have a hard-on.” Tommy said, his head snapping to the monitor.<br /><br />“That’s a lie.” Malice giggled. “I can see it from here.”<br /><br />---<br /><br />“You should touch it and see.” Malice laughed, watching Anna May’s face contort with disgust and horror. She leaned in. Everything looked funny from in here. A little grainy. A little hazy. A little… two-dimensional. Like Tommy’s really old robot shows. <br /><br />“That’s what they do in Oni-san’s movies.” She leaned back, tumbling, tumbling in space, landing on a trampoline held in place by two fat little big-faced chibis. She bounced high.<br /><br />“Ohhh—Onniiii-sannnn.” She mimicked her brother’s dirty shows. “It’s soooo big.” She giggled again, her voice tinkling like bells and landed hard on the trampoline, floating in the air again, weightless.<br /><br />Her skirt flipped up, velvet panties glimpsed momentarily before she was falling, feet first, toward the trampoline.<br /><br />“Ohhh—Oniii-sannnnn! It’s so ha-”<br /><br />---<br /><br />“Enough!” Anna snapped as she reached up and turned the monitor computer monitor off.<br /><br />“Hey!” Tommy yelped, “What if she’s tuck in there now?”<br /><br />“So what?” Anna crossed her arms self-consciously. “We’re probably better off.”<br /><br />Tommy stood up and grabbed his sister by the shoulders, shaking her a little. “Don’t say that! She’s our sister.”<br /><br />Ana frowned and lowered her head to Tommy’s lean chest. She’d always admired his firm body, even though she’d never admit it aloud.<br /><br />“Onii-san.” She whispered.<br /><br />---<br /><br />Malice giggled in the depths of the abyss, spinning, twirling, tumbling. She couldn’t see them, but she could hear them- feel them, even. When they pressed together, she felt the heat of their forbidden attraction. When they pulled apart she breathed deeply of their mingled scents- musky boy sweat and strawberry shampoo.<br /><br />She liked strawberries.<br /><br />And cream.<br /><br />She smiled.<br /><br />---<br /><br />Anna May lay beside Tommy in his ruffled bedsheets, her head on his firm shoulder and his hand on her soft hip.<br /><br />“Do you think we should turn it back on?” she asked, her back to the sleeping monitor.<br /><br />He licked his lips, his eyes glued to the TV. While she waited for his answer, Anna waited too.<br /><br />“Maybe…” he said. “Maybe we’ll just watch this one episode first.”<br /><br />Anna May smiled, just a little.<br /><br />“Ahhhhh! Senpaiiiii!”<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="_5yl5"><span><span>Katherine J. Parker is a speculative fiction writer and victim of the eternal pursuit of knowledge. She can’t walk and chew gum at the same time, but she’s never working on less than 5 (or a dozen) projects at a time. You can find out more about her eclectic nature at </span><a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fkatjparker.com%2F&h=pAQHgRA19" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://katjparker.com</a><span>.</span></span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="_5yl5"><span><span> </span></span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 32px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> <span style="font-size: small;"> Cuck-O-Chan </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 32px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: small;"> by Leigham Shardlow </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Cuck-O-Chan, an interdimensional school girl trapped in our dimension and forced into battle to protect the Hellgate, her only way home, from demons and their human slaves. Cuck-O-Chan can only access her spirit powers when she has more than one boyfriend or girlfriend at one time. Heartbreak fuels her ultimate spirit and it will be the world’s salvation.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Last time on Cuck-O-Chan, Kunikikinut had revealed the location of the Hellgate to her best friend Mami but Mami has been possessed by Kunikikinut's evil demon brother, who will stop at nothing to destroy the archfiend gate and it’s protector, Kunikikinut.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A soft wind blew through the locker room, the chill ran through me but Mami was uneffected.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Heh heh heh, foolish little girl” said Mami and another voice behind hers, no it couldn't be, he was trapped in hell father had made sure of it.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Brother!” I yelled recognizing his cold stare behind Mami’s soft blue eyes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“HA! Took you long enough Cuck-Chan. Now I will control the gate and this world and all others will be mine, you should never trust your friends.“</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Let go of her mind, you fiend!” I summoned all my will and threw a spiritual meat ball from my hands, his spirit form wasn’t as strong as his demonic self but I also was weak. I needed more boyfriends and girlfriends to achieve full power but moving to this new school had meant I had only time to make two.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Mami deflected the meat ball with her hand back at me. Blinding pain exploded into my chest, luckily the meatball was my weakest attack, anything else would have ruined my dress.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Pathetic, run sister, run far away before I destroy you”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Mami gestured to the ceiling and it cracked before exploding outwards allowing the sun to shine in. She then floated out of the hole and out of sight,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">There was no time to lose, I raced out into the corridor and out to find Toki and Shaun. I must break their hearts, the world was worth more than them, worth more than my feelings towards them.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Toki would be out in the sports field playing soccer and Shaun would be watching the girls</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">wrestling team. Shaun was such a pervert so it was easy to make him fall in love with me but Toko was different. I needed to buy gifts and use demon spells on her just to keep her interested.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I left down the corridor towards the Gym, Shaun would fight for me ,he would give me the most sadness.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">…………...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Shaun spotted me as soon as I walked into the gym and blushed bright red, he didn’t know I knew how much he liked to watch the girls fight each other. I did plan on getting into a fight if ever he began to lose interest but we had only been in a relationship for a week.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The gym was full of girls in tight spandex doing stretches, I could see Shaun liked this part the most because he didn’t see me until I walked right up to him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Kiki! What are you doing here?” he was suprised and spoke in his best broken Japanese.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Shaun was short, had long dark hair, and was stingy with gifts (I remember him only bring four bottles of beer on our first date in his car, which he drank three of and my bottle of Southern Comfort), but most of all he was Gajin, which meant a lot of the other students didn’t even talk to him. He was a perfect power tap, I should have been better to him, let him have some of my panties but well he was just too thin and greasy, I didn’t want him to touch me or my clothes.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Shaun! I don’t care that you’re watching other girls! I love someone else, someone tougher and stronger than an English!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">All the wrestlers had stopped warming up and stared at us waiting for Shaun to do something. He didn’t he just stood there confused. Damn he must not have understood what I had said. Stupid Gaijins, why did they move over here anyway.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“I ,love, Toki, not, you. Toki strong!” I shouted in my best English.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 86.45pt; margin-top: 0.45pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">His face twisted into rage and he stormed out of the gym and I followed, not too too fast just enough so he knew I was following.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 71.45pt; margin-top: 15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">His anger and sadness flowed into me, enriching my spirit and filling me with light. It still wasn’t enough but hopefully Toko would feel betrayed as well. It was my only hope to stop my step brother from controlling the gate. I only hoped I wouldn’t be too late.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 72.2pt; margin-top: 15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Shaun began sprinting and exited the building out onto the field right towards Toko. He tackled him to the ground and Shaun slowly got to his feet, panting heavily. Too many terrible fried breakfast’s caused him to be really unfit.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Fuck, you. Kiki is my girlfriend.“ said Shaun his voice cracking with rage.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 4.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Toki looked up and Shaun and then at me, her face read like shock and all at once I felt the most intense rush of emotional blankness. Nothing is more intense than nothing. It stands out in the world full of feelings. Toki felt nothing, she had switched her mind off from everything.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 81.95pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“NO! Toki I’m so sorry!” I screamed to no avail, Toki was never in love with me, she was cold and distant. My powers would begin to fade quickly.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 69.95pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Then there was huge pounding noise like a hammer crashing against the sky, the Hellgate was under attack, I had no time left.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Summoning all of Shaun's pain I transformed into my emotion chi form, the spiky wings</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 82.7pt; margin-top: 0.45pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">unfolding from the ether and attaching to my back, the halo appeared in a flash and I flew off away from the school and towards MT SAUSAGE.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 65.45pt; margin-top: 15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My powers were linked to its fleshy rocks, for my magic was that of meat and of the mountain. I wish I could become the butcher form but Shaun just wasn’t enough, he was used to rejection and pain each time he felt it less and I hoped I could have made him care more. It didn't matter I would have to make do.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">………………….</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 63.95pt; margin-top: 0.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">By the time I arrived at MT SAUSAGE and into the great meat cave at the top the Hell gate had begun to bleed purple Satan fire. Mami’s possessed body was beating the great doors with such force that I hadn’t seen in this world before. My Step brother was going to turn her bones into sand if he carried on. That level of possession would burn out her soul and mind. I had to stop him.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 78.2pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Channeling magic through my arms I shot the lasagna beams from my fingertips, the meaty sauce smacking her off balance. For a brief glimmer I felt him loose his grip on Mami, I had to keep going.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 69.95pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Shaun’s sadness was drying up fast I had to conserve it, I gave myself bacon fists and began pounding Mami’s face, trying to disorientate my step brother. Shaun must be masturbating, his depression was leaving so much quickly than it should be. My bacon fists began to flicker and my halo disappeared.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 85.7pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“NO!” I shouted giving Mami the hardest punch I could with what was left of Shaun's Cucked spirit. Mami barely flinched. Brother had regained control and threw me off her with a back handed slap and cruel smile that didn’t belongI smashed into the cave wall with such force that it loosened stalactites from the roof which came crashing down, burying me alive.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 88.7pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I couldn’t breathe the rocks began to crush me and I felt my wings disappear as the last of Shaun’s sadness faded into a dry tissue. As I blacked out to the sound of my Step Brothers Voice Laughing from Mami’s mouth I remember knowing all hope had faded.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">..................…</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 63.2pt; margin-top: 0.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">All was black. I was floating above my body by an inch. As I pushed myself away from my body up through the rock I realised I was dead. There was something keeping my spirit tied to this plane of existence though. Then I saw the bright glow of love and the dull ache of hate behind me, emanating from Mami.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The hate was from my Step Brother, hiding in her brain, but the love was from Mami.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 4.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Mami had loved me all this time, the power of her love was keeping my soul from leaving.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 74.45pt; margin-top: 0.45pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">No, not Mami. I couldn’t do that to her, break her heart to save her body and the world. Please not that, anything but that.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 75.95pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">She was at the gate smashing her arms into it, each pound a new crack in the door and in her bones. Her loving light dimmed slightly with each hit, she was dying. I had no choice, I had to CUCK Mami.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 72pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“MAMI!! “ I shouted and my Step Brother turned finally seeing my ethereal form.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 64.7pt; margin-top: 0.45pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“MAMI, I love you! I always have” The light shone brighter than a thousand suns and I could feel my soul being slowly sucked back into my body. It wasn’t enough though I had to go all the way.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“MAMI, I’m sorry I’m in a sexual relationship with Toki and Shaun!”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 74.45pt; margin-top: 0.45pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The bright light turned black almost instantly and I absorbed it feeling more powerful than ever before. Then the pile of boulders exploded and my body slammed into my spirit. I was unto a god more powerful than the butcher form and more importantly, more powerful than my Step Brother.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 72pt; margin-top: 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">……..</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 2.35pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Power surrounded me and shimmered the air in front of me,</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 71.45pt; margin-top: 0.45pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My Step Brother roared and threw a million ghost demon knives through the air, they dissolved through the radiating shield of Cuck that surround me. I smiled, forgetting Mami’s pain for a moment.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“BE GONE” I spoke and waved my arms in a spell of banishment, my Step Brother screamed and his presence instantly disappeared back into the hell dimension. Mami collapsed on the floor in a soft heap.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 84.95pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Another complicated series of movements and streams of rich fat began to flow into the Hell Gate beginning to repair itself, such was the power of Mami’s heartache.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 96.95pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I poured her own pain back into her, allowing her body to heal almost instantly and after a minute her eyes opened.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Mami” I whispered, “I’m so sorry” .</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 71.45pt; margin-top: 0.45pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">She got up and walked out of the cave without saying a word, I let her go what could I do I was what caused her agony she needed space I knew that.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Her footsteps stopped at the mouth of the cave, I could tell she was looking down at the city</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 71.45pt; margin-top: 0.45pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">from the height of Mt Sausage. Then there was silence for a long time, my eyes would not stop crying.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 75.95pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I stopped floating suddenly collapsing under my own weight, Mami’s sadness has abruptly left me.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 67.7pt; margin-top: 15pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The worst thing ever had crossed my mind and I raced out of the cave but I was too late, far too late. Mami’s smashed corpse littered the rocks below the cave, fresh blood caking every surface.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 4.3pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I had killed her to save the world and it wasn’t worth it.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 4.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Next time on Cuck-O-Chan;</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 4.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Space Aliens can love too!</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 14.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Kunikikinut must romance an Alien, a Mole creature and an emotionless serial killer who she has already cucked once all to save a cat from a tree.</span></span><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 2.4; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span class="_5yl5"><span><span><span class="_5yl5"><span>Leigham has never even seen Anime or Hentai, better yet Leigham doesn't know what Hentai is. "What's Hentai?" He is often heard asking around the Manga Offices but they just ignore him.</span></span> </span></span></span></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05724815799239097456noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-30025892910723600202016-10-10T07:04:00.000-07:002016-10-27T13:41:48.240-07:00Evil Rainbow Micro Fiction Competition Winner!The winner is at hand! First off, can I just say I always thought people were fibbing when they said they had a hard time deciding winners, but this was really hard. Each time I finished one I mumbled "that was the winner" out loud until I got to the next one.<br />
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Anyway, eventually I decided that person is.....<br />
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<b>K Lee Burkett</b><br />
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<br />
They get to choose a free electronic copy of a 2015 NBAS of their choice. All stories including the winner are below.<br />
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<a href="http://madeleineswann.com/" target="_blank">Madeleine Swann</a> is the author of NBAS 2015 novella Rainbows Suck. She likes tea and squeezing animals in nefarious ways.<br />
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<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;"><b><span class="il">Rainbow</span> of Happiness</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;"><b>by K. Lee Burkett</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;">It had been raining for days. A veil of grey hung over the city, threatening suffocation with its repressive gloom. Eyes peered from behind curtains. A few brave bodies sheathed in rain gear sloshed through the soggy streets.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;">Sometime in the middle of a rainy grey day, the glowing began. Off in the distance, breaking through the bleakness, a fuzzy red-orange-pink glow. Like neon advertising color itself amidst the pallor. Soon after the odd humming began, a low frequency that vibrated through the marrow of everyone and into the hollows of dreams. The hum began to take the form of words, directing the residents of the town to find the end of the peculiar <span class="il">rainbow</span>.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;">Clusters of slicker clad people tromped through town, heading single-mindedly toward the glowing, humming arch in the distance.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;">“What do you think it is?” somebody asked.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;">A few people answered by turning and giving a quick, narrow stare. The others just kept walking as though they hadn’t heard the question or it was too much bother to respond.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;">The crowd walked for what seemed like a long time, though they never really seemed to get much closer. When they began to slow, the light flickered, and the people gave a collective gasp.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;">“Oh, I’ve had it! I’m about beat!” a man said, sitting on a curb.</span><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;">At that point, the light went completely out. Screams and gasps and cries of “Where’d it go?” could be heard even as the rain began to pick up, drenching the grey curtain of sky that hung over everybody with no arc of colored light breaking through the dreariness.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;">It was then that the meters began to pop up. The pleasant hum was replaced by rumbling beneath the muddy puddled lawns and rain slick concrete. At approximately every 50 feet, slender metal meters popped up. Each one equipped with slots for accepting cash and credit card payments.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;">“Bloody hell!” somebody said. “What do we do?” said another. “Who has money?” someone else said. And with that, they all began digging in their soggy pockets and overstuffed purses for their wallets, looking for credit cards and spare change.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;">Damp hands began shoving money into the meter slots. After a minute or two of feeding the meters, the sky flickered with neon color. The crowd cheered.</span><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;">“Keep feeding ‘em!” someone shouted. They kept putting money into the meters at a frantic pace, and the neon <span class="il">rainbow</span> glowed brighter in the sky with each payment. The hum grew louder, morphing into trance music. Suddenly, the rain stopped. People took off their raincoats, started peeling off their wet clothes.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: small;">People began to dance, and the <span class="il">rainbow</span> glowed radiantly, and the music pumped like the giant heartbeat of the world. Some people began knocking on doors, getting others to pay the meters too. And more meters popped up. Soon everybody was paying to see the brilliant <span class="il">rainbow</span> that was always glowing, 24 hours a day, always just a little beyond.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
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<b><br /></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<b>The Black Rainbow</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<b>By</b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<b><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<b>Aaron
Waters</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
And there, in the distance, I saw
it. It stood like an arching monolith that looked down upon the earth, not so
much guarding it, but more preying upon it. Its stripes bore no colours but
only the shades of mourning as the seven forms of black and grey moulded and
morphed into one another, offering no ray of sunshine in the damp aftermath of
the storm. This was our becoming. This was our reckoning. We would venture to
go around it, but how can one give a wide berth to that which has no end?
Surely not could we go under nor through it, not after the horrors we had seen
in recent days. Birds fly by and get sucked into it, blasted like moths on a UV
fly zapper, and all those that try to go unnoticed have sunbeams shun upon
them, revealing them to – what has become known as – the Black Rainbow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
It
could never be forgotten how it came to be. The glorious summers’ day where
bunnies played in the open whilst foxes bathed in the sun, as though nature
were letting bygones be bygones and second chances were in bloom with the
tulips and daisies. The luscious green grass that kissed the baby-blue skies as
the sun illuminated the world. And there, just at the cusp of the sun’s
circumference was the tiniest puff of cloud that we all believe to be harmless.
That was until it grew bigger. And when its size grew larger its shade grew
darker, and as it grew and grew it became thicker and thicker until the sun was
hidden and the sky turned black, and with the crash of a thousand bombs came a
downpour of titanic proportions. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
The
foxes butchered the rabbits, the rain massacred the flowers and the ground so
bombarded that the fields turned to swamps and the forests turned to bogs. The
rain fell hard and the rain fell long, and after thirty long days of flooding,
hurricanes and disasters, the maelstrom in the sky turned in on itself and the
sky turned clear. Only there was not sun, there were no clouds, there was no
wind, there wasn’t anything. Just grey. And from the mist as it cleared on the
hills was that in which some hate, some worship, but all fear: the black
rainbow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
In
the clearing it called out upon us like a thousand fog horns, deafening to those
unfortunate enough to be standing too close, and menacing to all at a distance.
It did not move, it did not shine, it did absolutely nothing, but that was
enough. Many tried to escape, but the rays of an invisible sun revealed those
who fled, and immediately they burst into a single flame and turned to dust,
and then blew into the air to join the rest of the grey. We are its slaves now.
What it wants, he do not know, but what we <i>do</i>
know, is that we cannot ever leave. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Graffiti of Devils</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><b>by Kevin Sweeney</b></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The Beast and his granddaughter were walking in the forest, much as the
Beast had once walked there with his grandmother (for you see, the devil’s
family always skips a generation.) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It was winter, and so cold that when they came upon the end of a rainbow they
found it frozen where it touched the world. They broke off icicles of indigo
and orange and sucked them white whilst the Beast explained that the Creator
placed such bows in the sky to remind humanity of the Promise. Granddaughter
scented mischief, and spoke of such to her elder who delighted in her talk, and
then searched they the whole world over for what they would need before
returning, burdened, to where the rainbow was rooted and where the
mischief would be birthed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The bow sizzled when a hoof was placed upon it, and the younger helped
the elder with that first step, but then they were climbing the icy arch of
seven colours and began to paint. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">For a brush they used the tongue of the last whale, plucked as the
animal lay dying on the deck of a “scientific research vessel” in the Sea of
Japan, and for paint they had stripped the auras of humans in every corner of
this planet of the damned. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">From child slaves on Ghanaian cocoa farms and the chainsaw wielding
executioners of Mexican cartels, they filled their pallete with misery and
wickedness and mixed their pigments; blue from drowned Syrian migrants at the
bottom of the Mediterranean, and yellow from Indian family’s who lived by
scavenging amongst burning mountains of the West's imported garbage. They found
a remarkable hue of orange in a Middle Eastern territory engaged in ethnic
cleansing, and in a locked cellar in a mid-west American town they discovered a
shade of green whose source would shock the nation, until the next celebrity
excess stole society’s glassy gaze. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">With laughter like sobbing the devil and his granddaughter painted as
they walked across the empty sky, and if the Creator placed his bow as a
reminder of the Promise, what of this second bow above? Was it an answer, or an
accusation? Better the devil, he knows.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="WordSection1">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><b>FISHING
TALES<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-align: center; text-autospace: ideograph-numeric;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><b>by
Sutter Kang </b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 28.0pt 56.0pt 84.0pt 112.0pt 140.0pt 168.0pt 196.0pt 224.0pt 252.0pt 280.0pt 308.0pt 336.0pt; text-align: center; text-autospace: ideograph-numeric;">
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="scene_1"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Kirby and Dave sat in the boat,
waiting for something to bite. They were really hoping for one of those monster
catfish they'd heard so much about, but at this point they would take anything.</span></a><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt; text-autospace: ideograph-numeric; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"You
want another one?" Dave asked, holding a cold brew out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"Sh'yeah,
"Kirby slurred out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Kirby
tossed his empty can into the lake. The can gleamed in the sun like gold,
bobbing along like a fishing lure. He took the fresh beer from Dave and cracked
it open. It went down smooth and he finished it in one pour, letting out a loud
burp when he'd finished.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt; text-autospace: ideograph-numeric; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"Man,
go easy," Whined Dave. "We only got..." He counted the beers
slowly. "Shit, we got enough, never mind."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">They
both burst out in laughter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Kirby
stood up in the boat and threw the empty can into the river. It rocked side to
side, coming close to tipping. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"Careful,"
Dave said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"Mind
your own queer,"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Kirby
unzipped and let loose. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"Infidel!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"Huh?"
Kirby looked around as he zipped. "You say somethin' Dave?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"Naw,"
Dave said. "I heard it too though. Don't know where it came from."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">A
fish the size of a pitbull slapped across Kirby's face, knocking him on his
back in the boat. Dave burst out laughing and pointed. "You just got your
ass knocked out by a damn fish!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Kirby
scowled. "You keep laughin' like that an' I'm fixin' to throw your ass
outta this boat."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Dave
just grinned like a schoolboy seeing a girl nude for the first time, until
another fish jumped out and smacked him in the chest. It wasn't big enough to
knock him down, but it gave a good slap before dropping into the boat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"Infidel!,"
the fish said, its lips moving like a store bought talking bass.
"Murderers! You kill our mother! Rape our land!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"What
the--". Dave started to say before their boat flipped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Under
the water a thousand mouths gripped Dave and Kirby's clothes, dragging them
down. They were speeding so fast they didn't feel the scales slicing their
throats into fully functional gills. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">They
hit the bottom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">A
rope made from discarded fishing wire and six pack rings laced around them,
holding them tight. They looked at each other, terrified and confused. A
monster catfish they would have loved to catch and fry swam up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"You
have been charged with the crime of attempted murder." Said the catfish.
"How do you plead?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-indent: 36pt;">"How
the hell can we understand you!" Shouted Dave.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"This
ain't real..." Blubbered Kirby. "Can't be."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"If
you do not make a plea, you will be found guilty immediately."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"Not
guilty! Not guilty!" Dave said, still not believing he was talking to a
fish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">The
catfish turned to Kirby. "And you? What do you say?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Kirby,
still in shock, couldn't form a coherent sentence. When the fish had had enough
he turned to the left and shouted, "This one is undeniably guilty!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">An
even larger fish, close to the size of a shark emerged from the murkiness. Its
mouth gaped wide, then closed around Kirby's head. It carried him beyond sight
to an unknown fate. Dave thought about how he was going to get out of the
predicament he found himself in. Then he knew he had only one way out. The only
talent he had in all the muster of his body. He was going to lie his ass off. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="scene_2" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 36.0pt 72.0pt 108.0pt 144.0pt; text-autospace: ideograph-numeric; text-indent: 36.0pt;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="scene_2" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">Dave looked around. It was a
courtroom, in a metropolis of a fish city. Fish of all sizes sat in the pews,
scribbling notes on tree bark. A judge fish sat the the front, wearing a wig
that looked like george washing tons hair, only it was rotting away from years
of submersion.</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">"David
Hill," Said the judge fish. It sounded like Mickey Rooney. "You are
being tried for attempted murder. You plead not guilty. You will be judged
fairly by a jury of mixed fish. First witness please."</span><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Evil
Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">™</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> From WhizzBang!</span></b><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>Frank J. Edler<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<b><span lang="EN-US">Congratulations on the purchase of your new Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™</span><span lang="EN-US">. </span></b><span lang="EN-US">Its
the rainbow that is sure to provide hours of a horrific, unsettling hell on
Earth for you and your entire family. <b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<b><span lang="EN-US">To activate your Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™
</span></b><span lang="EN-US">remove the black prism from the package
and place it on the evil stand. Using the atomizing bottle of sulfuric acid,
spritz a fine mist into the air in front of the prism. Before the mist can
settle, aim the evil death ray directly at the black prism. The ray will be
refracted into a spectrum of evil colors and form your very own </span><b><span lang="EN-US">Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™</span></b><span lang="EN-US">. <b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">Before you can begin using your </span><span lang="EN-US">Evil
Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™ </span></b><span lang="EN-US">you
must first sacrifice one member of your immediate family to the evil spirit
which possesses it. You may behead, burn or torture your loved one to death
while pronouncing the name of the evil spirit that possesses your </span><b><span lang="EN-US">Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™</span></b><span lang="EN-US">. The name is stamped on the inside of the carton. You may
also consider using the </span><b><span lang="EN-US">Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™ Sacrificial Dagger </span></b><span lang="EN-US">to stab
your sacrifice to death (S<i>old separately.</i>)<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US">Once blood has been spilled in the name of your Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™ </span></b><span lang="EN-US">it will then begin
its maniacal plan to take over the world. Though this is your </span><b><span lang="EN-US">Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™, </span></b><span lang="EN-US">it would be best not to interfere in its nefarious plans for
world domination.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b style="text-indent: 27.35pt;"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<b style="text-indent: 27.35pt;"><span lang="EN-US">Also, </span><span lang="EN-US">Evil Rainbow</span></b><b style="text-indent: 27.35pt;"><span lang="EN-US">™ </span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="text-indent: 27.35pt;">will most likely
murder the rest of your family and friends.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<b><span lang="EN-US">Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™ </span></b><span lang="EN-US">will make demands for ridiculous amounts of money for ransom
from world leaders in exchange for their safety in lieu of the coming
apocalypse your </span><b><span lang="EN-US">Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™ </span></b><span lang="EN-US">will<b> </b>bring on.
<b><i><o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span lang="EN-US">Do not, under any circumstances, agree to be your </span><span lang="EN-US">Evil Rainbow</span></i></b><b><i><span lang="EN-US">™'s
second-in-command! </span></i></b><span lang="EN-US">The allure of that
much power is enticing but your </span><b><span lang="EN-US">Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> will become paranoid
and execute you believing you are planing a coup to usurp its reign over the
universe which it will eventually control.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<b><span lang="EN-US">Be sure to keep your </span><span lang="EN-US">Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™ misted </span></b><span lang="EN-US">with the sulfuric
acid spray. Your </span><b><span lang="EN-US">Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™</span></b><span lang="EN-US"> will shrivel up and
die if it dries out. Then it will become a poltergeist and torment you for the
rest of your life.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif";">
</span></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<b><span lang="EN-US">Thank you for purchasing </span><span lang="EN-US">Evil
Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™ exclusively from WhizzBang! </span></b><span lang="EN-US">Keep an eye out for </span><b><span lang="EN-US">Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™ Evil Secret Lair</span></b><span lang="EN-US">
and </span><b><span lang="EN-US">Evil Rainbow</span></b><b><span lang="EN-US">™
Evil Sacrificial Altar </span></b><span lang="EN-US">available soon!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>Geoffrey's Yellow </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>by Leigham Shardlow</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">There is a thin thread inside my liver,
sewing the organ shut to remake myself in the yellowest way possible. I had
done the surgery myself, getting drunk on an advocaat and Lemoncillo cocktail called
"Purest Yellow" . It had taken a lot of blood and digging around, eventually
i had tied my liver off from my blood supply and stapled myself back together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I'd also paid ten English pounds to Jack
the professional body manipulator to yellow my eyes, he injected them with horse
piss, I hoped it was sterile. The effect was perfect leaving only the small
pits of my pupils floating in the yellow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I was perfect for Geoffrey, I would be his
yellow how could he deny me that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">...........<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The advert for the auditions came on the telly
a few weeks ago, Bungle Bear, George the Pink Hippo and Zippy ( My favourite)
had begun in a blood stained dungeon as the Programme "Rainbow" always
started. Bungle, George and Zippy's masked heads wobbled as they writhed
sexually against each other. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The screen flashed like strobed lights and Geoffrey's
disembodied head appeared.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">"I WANT HUMANS LIKE THE RAINBOW! BE ON
TELLY! BE LIKE MY SEXY PUPPETS!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Then the screen faded into a brief shot of
some text detailing the address of the auditions with terms and conditions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Rainbow was my favourite evil TV show, I
needed to be it's Yellow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">...............<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The Queue outside the studio was massive,
people had outdone themselves to become colour. Some where awful, people who
had just painted or tattooed themselves, or that other yellow who had just
sewed a patchwork of dirty yellow carpets to himself, the pathetic attempt of
that made me laugh. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Some of the reds were fantastic. One bloke
had actually skinned himself, the red of his muscles on constantly leaking
blood really put the painters to shame. The Pink man two people in front of me
was boasting about how he'd boiled himself for days to get the right shade. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The more I looked the faster the Queue filed
into the tiny door and soon enough I entered it myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">.........<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Geoffrey had Bungle the Bear tied into a
rack. This was just like the show, if ever Geoffrey liked a picture someone had
sent in he would viciously Bugger Bungle. I watched as the boiled pink man did
a little tap dance on the stage in front of Geoffrey, Bungle and some security
guards. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Geoffrey undid his fly, smiled sweetly and
rammed Bungle a few time in approval. The pink chap cried and left the stage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">A painted green man got up on stage and before
he could say anything George the Pink Hippo ran out from behind the stage curtain
and impaled him with long sword. The security moved the body.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I was sick on myself out of either excitement
or the Jaundice. It didn't matter, all the Advocaat had made it yellow. It was
perfect sick. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">"Next!" Yelled Geoffrey.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">I stepped forward intending to sing the
Rainbow song. I never got the chance as Zippy, who had been sitting off stage
in the dark, rumbled on stage and punched me square in the face, exploding my
nose in a shower of blood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">"That's not yellow!" Geoffrey
shouted at me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">"Next!" He yelled as the security
roughly grabbed me and carried me to the exit before chucking me into some
bins.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">............<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Watching Telly that night I saw Rainbow and
that carpeted bastard being caressed by Geoffrey, I cried myself to sleep it
really was the most evil programme on telly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<b style="text-indent: 27.35pt;">Rainbow Flash</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<b style="text-indent: 27.35pt;">Rodney Gardner</b></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For as long as I can remember, unlikely things have come to me as I fall into sleep. I could interpret the world to you in these moments. Like swimming through a retrograde LSD trip, all things connect to make perfect sense. In typical apathy however, I close my eyes and wake up with no recollection. Much could be said of this selective importance of things, even then. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today is October first, and autumn has arrived. Leaves shed as temperatures lag, and my existence temporarily becomes less wretched. S</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">tepping outside to escape the monotony, last night’s storm is fading, and I am apprehensive. I catch a glimpse of It on the horizon and my spirit sinks.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Feelings of regret bloom before I even give this obsession a thought. I know too well the peril of the Rainbow. As I shield my eyes from the initial discomfort of it, the requisite translator is there, as he always is. He says out loud “It is wondrous here,” responding to the quickly moving clouds, the prismatic wonder, and the inexorable end to the current scenery. Other mandatory words also spew from his mouth: “Love is universal, but has no relevance here.” </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My desire for all of this should be on a leash. But if you were told that there was a place where nothing was beyond the scope of your cravings, would you deny it? Would you be foolish to forego it? Keep in mind, I am often the foolish and lonely type who mistakes the simple sharing of a laugh or the mutual understanding of the mundane as much more. Clearly a pawn of the Rainbow whose one sided connection is pathetic, there are always ways to rationalize the harrowing details. As visions of a slave who desires to be king pervade me, the reality of how delusional this is comes to the surface all too quickly. I enter and further deteriorate all of my relationships, aware of my r</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">egression</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to a whore of the worst kind, deaf to the pleas of reason. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: left; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-0ed20517-aed5-133e-46b1-98f2a75dfd22"></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Euphoria takes over and I fall further away from all that used to mean so much. I no longer resist. All that guides me is devoid of any true esteem. Obediently I follow, despising what has become of me. These rituals...hopeless patterns. Priorities were deemed hollow long ago. I have overdone it, and this time, as I fall into sleep, I explain nothing, I value nothing. Fucking Rainbow, you promised me so much more. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7403" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;">
<b><span class="il">RAINBOWS</span> DON’T LIKE RAP MUSIC</b></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7404" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;">
<b>by Sean Kelly</b></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7405" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7406" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7407" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7408" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7409" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“Sorry bud! Not going over quite like you planned huh?” Elliot yelled over the buzzing sound. Sound stopped. Elliot pulled the power drill out of Marco’s eye socket. “Anyways…” He whipped out a handkerchief and cleaned the drill. “That’s enough of that.”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7410" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7411" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7412" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
Marco stood. He looked down at his blood splattered clothes. Elliot took out another handkerchief and handed it to him.</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7413" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7414" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7415" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“Why do you have so many handkerchiefs, man?” Marco asked.</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7416" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7417" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7418" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“You got time to accompany me on a street race?”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7419" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7420" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7421" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“No.”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7422" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7423" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7424" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“Why not?”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7425" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7426" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7427" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“Cause you drilled my eye.”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7428" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7429" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7430" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“You were robbing me.”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7431" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7432" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7433" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“Yeah well. Last time you didn’t drill my eye.”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7434" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
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<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7437" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7438" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
***</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7439" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
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“Hey,” Elliot said. “Look out your window real quick.”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7444" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7445" /></div>
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“Why is your car so cold?” Marco asked. “The AC isn’t even on.”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7447" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7448" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7449" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“Yeah. Look out your window real quick.”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7450" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7451" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7452" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“No. Why? You’re gonna put something gross on me when I turn away.”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7453" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7454" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7455" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“Will you hurry up!?”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7456" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7457" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7458" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“Fine.” Marco looked out at the passing store fronts. “Whole lot of pawn shops and liquor stores.”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7459" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7460" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7461" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“Look up.”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7462" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7463" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7464" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
Marco squinted. “I don’t know what you want me to see. Can’t see shit anyway. One eye is gone,” He turned and glared at Elliot. “The other ones still irritated from the feather tickling.”</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7465" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7466" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7467" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“Little good cop, bad cop.” Elliot replied.</div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7468" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
<br id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7469" /></div>
<div id="m_4444371031861219383yui_3_16_0_ym19_1_1474968053599_7470" style="font-family: HelveticaNeue, "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, "Lucida Grande", sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
“Yeah, except you aren’t a cop anymore. I’m not sure you ever were, to be honest.”</div>
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“Well not officially, but… Will you look out your window god damn it!?”</div>
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Marco looked. “What?”</div>
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“In the sky. The <span class="il">rainbow</span>.”</div>
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“So what? That’s always there.”</div>
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“So what is that’s our opponent.”</div>
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“Why? I don’t really remember what we’re doing anymore. Little light headed…” Marco noticed what appeared to be a booger wiped across the sleeve of his shirt. “From the blood loss and stuff. What are we doing again?” </div>
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“Street racing, Marco! What else?”</div>
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“What do you mean what else? I’ve never seen you street race.”</div>
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“Roll down the window. Yell some rude shit at the <span class="il">rainbow</span>.”</div>
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“Nope.”</div>
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“Okay.” Elliot punched the center of his steering wheel.</div>
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“Punch identification denied.” A robotic voice came from the AC vent.</div>
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Elliot sighed. “This car sucks.” He punched the wheel several more times.</div>
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“Denied. Denied. Denied.” A chime sounded. “Punch identification accepted! Initiating biological megaphone sequence. Seeking host.”</div>
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“Whats that mean?” Marco asked.</div>
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The glove compartment whipped open in front of Marco. An auxiliary cord shot in to his eye socket. He twitched a little, then went still.</div>
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“Host found. Deploying ‘Lil Wayne - King Kong’ at maximum volume.”</div>
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The trunk popped open. A massive chrome megaphone raised out of it. It blasted the track, tearing a city bus in to shreds.</div>
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“Uh, h-hey car voice thing!?” Elliot yelled at his AC vent.</div>
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“What do you want now?” The robotic voice asked.</div>
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“Pump up the bass.” He lit a cigarette.</div>
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“Sounds dangerous. I’m doing it because I want to. Not because you told me to.”</div>
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“Thank you, talking AC vent.”</div>
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The immense bass shook the whole block. Buildings crumbled. Lil Wayne’s rhymes could be heard several states over.</div>
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Elliot grabbed unconscious Marco. Stuffed him under the wheel. Used his head to keep the accelerator down. He rolled down his window, climbed out and stood on the roof.</div>
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“Yo! <span class="il">Rainbow</span>! You look stupid!” Elliot flipped the <span class="il">rainbow</span> two birds. Whipped out his dick and helicoptered it. </div>
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The <span class="il">rainbow</span> did nothing. Didn’t look stupid though. Was pretty.</div>
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“Me and you, <span class="il">rainbow</span>! Right now! To the end of the street. If I win, you get your ass outta town for good!” He put his dick away.</div>
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The music cut off.</div>
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Marco raised up. The car slowed to a stop. He opened the door and stepped out.</div>
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“Damn it, Marco! How’d you unlink?” Elliot hopped off the roof.</div>
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“I don’t know man. I saw some weird shit. Was running for my life.”</div>
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“Damn it! Can only link that thing once every 24 hours on the free trial.” Elliot looked up at the <span class="il">rainbow</span> with a scowl and shook his fist. “Next time <span class="il">rainbow</span>!” He yelled. “Don’t think this is over! I’ll be back! I’m gonna beat you! In a street race! You uh… You son of a bitch!”</div>
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Marco rolled his eyes. “Can you take me home now?”</div>
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“Nope.”</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Vlad the Impaler's Rainbow Rampage</span></b><i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i><b>By Neil Dinsmore</b></i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Vlad Dracula was a Wallachian prince with a problem. He had returned from the grave, and he wasn't
very happy about it. The product of a
lightning bolt from a nuclear warhead detonation and a perfectly timed
incantation from a now-vaporised cult of wannabe vampire emos, the resurrected
corpse now stalked the lands of modern day Europe with nothing but anger
coursing through his revived veins.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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Why had his
ancient slumber been disturbed? Why was
the land so different than he remembered it?
Where were the Turks? Vlad was
confused. And deeply, <i>deeply</i>,
pissed. There was only one answer to all
of these burning questions: genocide.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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Vlad loved
genocide. It was his number one thing to
do when he'd been alive. So he called
upon his own personal demon from beyond the veil to grant him a weapon with
which to commence the slaughter. Owing
to the fact that he held a lot of sway in the afterworld, he was immediately
gifted a hand cannon. It was an ethereal
rainbow blaster, the kind that never requires reloading or even a license.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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“Sweet
tits!” exclaimed Vlad, having taught himself English and vulgarity during his
time in Hell, as he started firing the thing indiscriminately at peasants, buildings
and cows. The land was soon awash with
the fragmented entrails and liquefied soup smears of the dead. Vlad laughed and cheered, danced and
pirouetted as he unloaded round after round of nullifying rainbow beam into
people's screaming faces.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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But soon,
the gays appeared. As did the
transgender people, the bisexual otherkins and the ones who refused to be
pigeon holed. They arrived with their
placards and signs and began cheering the irate slaughterer on. Vlad was unsure what they were doing. He'd never seen so many genders or piercings
in one place before. The crowd grew
bigger and bigger, swelling with seething diversity until it was soon a massive
entity all of its own, screaming and chanting things about sexual liberation
and social justice.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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“Thanks for
standing up to our oppressors!” shouted one man.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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“Bless the
zombie rainbow dude!” yelled another.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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“He's
wiping those privileged bastards off the face of the planet for our cause!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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Then it
clicked. Despite his brain being more of
a paste than an organ these days, the reanimated prince figured out that social
attitudes to sexuality and gender and their associated arguments had taken over
the collective consciousness of the world since his original departure from it. Judging from their loud t-shirts, posters and
face paint, it seemed that the rainbow was a symbol of their unity and
cause. They thought that Vlad the
Impaler was there to bring sexual justice to the world, via his ethereal
rainbow blaster.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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</div>
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But it
wasn't true. This wasn't symbology, it
was a genocidal madman doing what he does best.
Sure, Vlad didn't discriminate (unless it was against the Turks), but he
also didn't care about people's feelings.
And so he blasted the cheering mob into a billion pieces of red slop.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b style="text-indent: 27.35pt;"><br /></b></div>
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<b>I Have Found the Throne of Prisms </b></div>
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<b>and Dream of its Mad Secrets</b></div>
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<b style="text-indent: 27.35pt;">by MC Kessler</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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I was fourteen when my mother told me that the infamous Cyrus Lament was my grandfather and, being both curious and intrepid, I set about learning as much as I could about the self-styled and fearsome Rainbow Emperor. </div>
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<br /></div>
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It wasn't easy. Mother knew nothing, having grown up, she tearfully explained, in the care of Cyrus's cruel, dotty wives, all invisible from passing through his light extraction engines. It was, to hear her tell it, a troubled upbringing, and fatherless. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The internet was predictably useless, as it has always been post Terrorscrub 2081, and most of the physical books I found that mention him are filled with gruesome children’s fairy tales. The best I could find was a volume called The Omnibus of Majesties, made to look hundreds of years old like when old books were in fashion, dated 2111, the year I was born. The entry is brief:</div>
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<br /></div>
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LAMENT, Cyrus (2034-2084), "The Rainbow Emperor." Born: Coshocken, Ohio. Parents: Mark and Lucy (Thomosina). Brother (Tyro) and sister (Hildie) report him to be melancholic, and often ill. As a teenager he became enamored of lasers and destroyed the family home. He attended Cincinnati City College, studying Chromaticism, and upon graduation, began work at the Cleveland Polychromasia Reactor. Following a freak accident, which some accounts attribute to Lament's miserable temperment, his beard, at the time over twelve inches in length, transformed into a rainbow-hued shard of scintillating energy when in the vicinity of a rain shower. During this period he gained several unexplained powers: hypnosis, levitation, destructive rainbow energy beams (from fingertips, perhaps eyes), and, reportedly, the ability to bend light to alter reality and travel through time (though the latter is likely apocryphal). Scholars speculate that he gained these powers through a mastery of Chromatic Ontology, a young, poorly-understood discipline involving the invocation of light equations. He used his abilities chiefly to dominate and terrify mankind. In 2081 he briefly took over the world.</div>
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Oddly, there was no mention of his famous and verifiable exploits. No mention of the Green Pogroms of Kent, of the Incursion of Vomiting Chromatose Daemons, of The Summoning and Murder of the Virgin Iris, the many defeats of the Inky Knights of Macedonia, the Gray Enchantrix, or the Army of Black Looks. Even the city of Cleveland, which he took as his lair, and its surrounds, is still a mysterious pool of swirling colors, but no reference to it has apparently survived. Also, his apparent death is unremarked on.</div>
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<br /></div>
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So, as you can see, I have never in my thirty-four years been able to find any information that might provide insight into my grandfather's psychology, whether he was always evil, or if he was driven to madness later in life. </div>
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<span style="text-indent: 27.35pt;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Only the throne, the throne, with its twisting mirrors and lenses. When I stare into it, I can see myself engulfed in dancing whorls of color. It could be a trick, or a gift. It is so disappointing to not know, which makes it difficult to explain what I'm about to do.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><b>Roy G. Biv.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><b>By Josh Darling</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;"> Roy was
listening to Cool G Rap, sick of it, he changed the track on his MP3 player,
skipping to Bell Biv Devo’s “Poison.” Nodding in time to the music, he mouthed
the words then froze. A brown skid mark hung in the blue sky. The air depleted
of humidity and the streets wet, this was “God’s post rain gift.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
Taking out his ear buds, he reached for his cellphone. “Hey, we’ve got a
shit stain in the sky.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“The fuck you talking about Roy?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“I’m walking down Ocean St. in Hyannis Mass, someone, probably you, messed up.
It looks like there is a giant turd streak in the sky, fix it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“What are you doing in High Town? I haven’t been there in ages. The
Kennedys still live there?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“Only their ghosts. I’m working, that’s what I’m doing here. Look, you got to
fix this. People are going to start noticing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“I haven’t had my coffee yet, can you see if Orlando is free? It’s not really
that big of a deal?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
Roy pressed end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;"> Orlando annoyed Roy. He told sex stories about the things he did to his
Guatemalan girlfriend Yenny. Stuff he didn’t want to hear.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“Stop with the details about where you jizzed, can you fix it or what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“I need bile fleas.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“Don’t got ‘em.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“Air maggots?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“Nobody has those. I have a feeling Gary pawned me off on you cause he didn’t
want to use the last of his.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“Yeah, they are discontinuing selling them, saying it’s inhumane. If you stuff
a dead seagull in a chimney you can grow your own.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“That doesn't help now, can you get out here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“And do what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“Bring a tapeworm and fix this crap in the sky, people are noticing. Somehow,
someone pooped rainbow up there. That either Gary or Billy fucked up and didn’t
adjust the settings before the rain ended. And it’s getting darker.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“You sure it’s poop?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“No, I’m just using that to describe the color. What, like I’ve been up there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“You try calling Isabelle?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“Rossellini?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“No, the new girl."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;"> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;"> Waiting on Orlando’s text, he looked at the reflection of brown stain in the
water. As a child, he wandered out into the shallow flats, two hundred feet
from shore, the water stopping at his hips. One time a shark brushed against
him and he ran for shore. Today he had a piano to tune and a divorce to
facilitate. Neither work related but he didn’t want to give up his day off. He
should have said nothing and let this make the news. Not wanting to repeat
himself a third time he texted Isabelle the details.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
Heading down the street, he passed a mother and child in swimwear. The
little boy said, “Look, there’s a rainbow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;">
“I don’t think that’s a rainbow, Vincent.” She responded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 13.2pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 13.2pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: #0d0d0d; letter-spacing: -0.55pt;"> “It’s
god’s ass print in the sky.” Roy interjected, maintaining the lie about the
existence of a higher power.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<b style="text-align: center; text-indent: 27.35pt;"> A House of Flame</b></div>
<div class="Style6" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>By S.E. Casey</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"> </span>She didn't like Barbara. It was the wrong century for a Barbara and
truth was she didn't care for the name in the last.</div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">However, Rayne had chosen Barbara, setting down
at the beach next to her. She figured
Barbara had the prettiness to draw some male eyes, and perhaps those out of
Barbara's league would settle on her slightly older, slightly less pretty beach
mate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">So far, no luck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">But what most irked Rayne was her flippant
attitude. She had offered Barbara her sunscreen,
as clearly she wasn't wearing any in spite of the Florida sun. However, Barbara rebuffed her goodwill with
some cock-and-bull story about how her towel prevented any burning. Did she take her for a fool? Let her fry.
Rayne secretly wished for something between the first and third-degrees.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">However, three hours in the direct sun and
nothing. Finally rousing from her nap,
Barbara stood. As she picked her wedgie
and adjusted her bikini top, Rayne intently searched for tan lines. She found none.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">"I'm going for a quick dip," Barbara
announced. "Watch my stuff, okay?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">"Sure," Rayne lied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">Barbara stood on the very edge of her towel as
if it were a cliff. Finally, she took a
giant step off, jogging toward the water.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<i><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="Style3">
<i><span lang="EN-US">Do it.</span></i><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">Rayne quickly stuffed her things into her
carry-all. She cursed as her red thermos
was missing its top. It would be useless
without it, but it couldn't be helped. Snatching
Barbara's blue towel with the many rainbows stitched in, she left.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<br /></div>
<div class="Style4">
<span lang="EN-US">*** <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">She couldn't sleep. The sunburn on the back of her thighs itched,
but that wasn't the cause of her restlessness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">Rayne climbed out of bed shuffling to the
dresser. She turned on the lamp and
removed the shade. She then walked to the
carry-all by the front door. Retrieving
the rainbow towel, she shook the sand away and carried it back into the
bedroom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<i><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="Style3">
<i><span lang="EN-US">Do it.</span></i><span lang="EN-US"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">She put her hand on the exposed lightbulb
withdrawing it quickly. It was already dangerously
hot. Setting the towel on the floor, she
stood on it. Again, she grabbed the
bulb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">Nothing.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">Rayne counted to five before letting go. Her fingers were unblemished and unburned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<i><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="Style3">
<i><span lang="EN-US">Do it!</span></i><span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">Dragging the towel into the bathroom, she
turned on the shower twisting the knob to the usual hot setting. However, she thought better and cranked it
all the way. When it started to steam, she
stripped, threw the towel onto the shower floor, and jumped on top of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">She could feel the water running over her, but
there was no pain. With more curiosity
than fear, she examined her skin. It didn't
redden, bubble, or otherwise scald.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<i><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="Style3">
<i><span lang="EN-US">DO IT</span></i><span lang="EN-US">!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">Rayne exited the shower, gathered the towel,
and made her way to the living room.
Grabbing the lighter from the coffee table drawer, she lit the cheap
curtains. As expected they went up
quick, the fire spreading like spilled water across the ceiling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">In the middle of the room, she stood on the
towel as the flames hungrily jumped to the furniture. Rayne bathed in the conflagration, soothed by
the luxuriant caress of the inferno. The passion of the blaze was everything she had
ever dreamed. She basked in the grandeur
until blacking out from the lack of oxygen.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">Rayne woke naked and unharmed under the night
sky, her apartment reduced to a smoking husk.
The glowing rainbows in the rectangular abyss on which she stood swirled
and danced below.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="Style3">
<span lang="EN-US">Mesmerized by the splash of color over the cold
void, she didn't hear the blaring sirens or her neighbor's screams.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<b style="text-indent: 27.35pt;"><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<b style="text-indent: 27.35pt;">Rainbow Piglets</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>by</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><b>Tea Boyles</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“The night was young.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“But I have no idea <i>how</i> young, why do people say that?” Landy
argued as he banged the script on the wood table. “Is that, like, after 7:30pm, a little
before 10:00pm? Is that young? What
makes it young? Can we just say ‘night’?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Sure”, said Sam, “we can just say
‘night’.” <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“GREAT!” exclaimed Landy, “because
it's a silly sentence. The night was <i>old</i>,
the morning was old- wait no, young? But
if there’s going to be an old night it can’t be young, it just doesn't fit!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Fit what?” asked Sam, calmly
behind the dark curly hair falling over his striking blue eyes and nearly
matching the sleepless circles beneath them.
Pale and thin, Sam could have been born a cat.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“What?” asked Landy, as pale and
thin as his friend, but with shorter light brown hair styled as spiky as his
tongue.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“You said it just doesn't fit” said
Sam.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Right, I <i>know</i> Sam.” said Landy.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Fit what?” Sam asked again.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Landy let out an exasperated sigh. They had been practicing the art of not using
figurative speech and it was driving everyone, including themselves,
crazy. “What are you asking me?” asked
Landy. Sam stopped typing and closed his
laptop.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Cig break,” said Sam, and Landy nodded
in agreement.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Sam and Landy were working on a
play. They had the building to showcase it,
which they shared with other artists, together calling their group the Rainbow
Piglets. Landy was President of the
Rainbow Piglets, which meant nothing, but it was his startup. Sam served as Vice President, which also meant
nothing, but he nevertheless earned his title by keeping the books and
collecting the dues for their group. A
variety of artists shared this four story building; its purpose was the
dream of many, which was to have a place for members to create and showcase their
art. The dues for the Rainbow Piglet Association,
as the organization formally called itself, were $100 a month per member with 37
members currently there. Each of the 4 stories had four big studios and
shared a bathroom; with hope their popularity would only grow.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Yet, while the small community
creatively flourished, threats began to loom.
The association made $3,700 per month while the rent for the building
was $4,500.00, leaving the Rainbow Piglets Association $800 in debt per
month. The city usually wrote this off, but recently Landy had been
getting phone calls, and even a few visits, from city officials. They
were nice men, even according to Landy, yet their visits were not casual. Since the group had not produced anything, they
explained, such as exhibits or artistic happenings to bring to the public, the
city could not continue to write off the monthly $800 debt and would be forced
to close down the building. And, of
course, put it up for sale. Landy already knew that once a private
investor came into the building, it would be knocked down for something gross,
like another condominium, like another parking lot. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">They went outside to have a smoke.
It was 7:00 pm, the sun was setting, and
the October air felt nice. But the two
men were beside themselves, unable to enjoy it. “We have until January”
said Landy, “and we have to come up with a way to make that $800 per month so
we can keep the space. And I think I
want to die.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“The members are aware” said Sam,
ignoring the last part, “but raising the membership dues can't happen, we'll lose
members. Why can't we start doing a
First Friday thing like in Old City?” Landy shook his head, “You can't have a first
Friday with no food or drinks, it's a social event and we're tapped out, can’t even
borrow. We'll have to gather the Piglets
and have a meeting, start preparing to get our stuff out of here and maybe find
another space.” By now Landy's voice was
void of emotion. Sam understood this, he
understood why, yet of all the things Landy did this irked him the most: the
defeatist mood, the voice of the finale. Sam wasn't ready to give up yet.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Don't start an email panic yet,”
Sam said to Landy, who was already starting to set up a blast from his phone to
schedule an emergency Rainbow Piglet meeting. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Let me do some digging first,”
pleaded Sam, “we'll meet here after work on Friday.” <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“It's Tuesday,” said Landy.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“I know,” said Sam.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“That's almost three days away,” insisted
Landy, increasingly short on patience.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Landy, please.” Sam was giving his all to force the
irritation out of his voice and took a breath.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“It's… just 3 days. Give me those 3 days and I'll update you
Friday after work.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Ok,” surrendered Landy, lighting
another cigarette and starting to walk home.
Sam nodded, heading back into the building to shut the lights down and
lock up. It was when he was on his way
out the door that he ran into Wolf.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“What's up?” asked Wolf.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Nothing, Wolf, I don't have
anything on me,” shrugged Sam “I get paid Friday and I'll grab some then.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Wolf laughed, "I bet you will,
but I was eavesdropping on you and Landy and I can see you're in a spot. You
need cash to keep the piggies creating.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Yes, we do,” said Sam. Sam looked at Wolf with the same irony with
which Wolf looked at Sam. Sam thought to
himself, <i>you are truly good at being a
wolf. You even walk like a wolf</i>.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Well”, Wolf exhaled a sugar
scented multicolored puff of smoke that swirled up into the night air, “I have
a new candy that is right up your alley with your artsy group called: rainbow
dream.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Oh My God! What is <i>that</i>?” asked a suddenly excited Sam,
always piqued for a new substance.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Rainbow Dream is a new pill manufactured
in Vietnam and the black market is quiet right now, so the cost is low. For now. You could turn a big profit, have a couple of
dream parties and you'll make up that 800 bucks real fast,” pitched Wolf, quite
matter-of-factly. Sam was quietly thrilled,
but cautious. He knew what Wolf was, but
was never actually bothered by it. Still,
Sam knew enough to always walk lightly when dealing with Wolf. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Do you have one so I can try?” Asked
Sam<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Sure do,” said Wolf, “on the
house and…”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“You don't have a house,” said Sam,
shifting his tone.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“I know,” said Wolf, rolling his
eyes, “it's a figure…”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“We hate figure of speeches here,”
said Sam, cutting him off.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Whatever,” said Wolf, brushing it
off as he gave Sam a rainbow dream pill.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Rainbow Dreams for Rainbow Piggies;
have fun!” With that, Wolf scampered off.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 27.35pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">
</span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“Rainbow <i>Piglets</i>," corrected Sam, shaking his head. Looking down at his hand for but a moment, he
popped the pill and headed home.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span>
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MadeleineSwannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06477307302608800889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-62088581455785637042016-10-09T10:36:00.000-07:002016-10-09T10:36:56.653-07:00PORTRAITS IN BIZARRO #3: PUBLISHER ROSE O'KEEFEby Lee Widener<br />
<br />
Today we have a real treat! We're talking with one of the founding members of the Bizarro Fiction movement, Eraserhead Press publisher, Rose O'Keefe. Settle in for the duration, readers, this is a fascinating story!<br />
<br />
LW: Rose, for this interview I'd like to go WAY back. When did you first come to love books?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4SlJcGzY2Rg/V_p3hUerwPI/AAAAAAAAC3k/kn7A-SjEgy8N6v27E7UnlLcsvJEQMvcngCK4B/s1600/roseyoung.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4SlJcGzY2Rg/V_p3hUerwPI/AAAAAAAAC3k/kn7A-SjEgy8N6v27E7UnlLcsvJEQMvcngCK4B/s320/roseyoung.jpg" width="184" /></a>RO: I can't remember a time I didn't love books! Even before I could read them, I enjoyed their look, smell and taste. My parents cultivated that love by providing me with access to lots of books and taking me to the library often. My love of fiction started with Dr. Seuss, Roald Dahl, Maurice Sendak, Rudyard Kipling, Judy Blume, Beverly Cleary, Lewis Carroll, Madeleine L'Engle, Shel Silverstein, Ursula K. Le Guin, Frances Hodgson Burnett, E.B. White and C.S. Lewis to name a few authors and also from reading world mythology and fairy tales, which I was obsessed with. I was definitely a bookworm as a kid and would often skip meals to keep reading a book.<br />
<br />
LW: How about the love of weird and strange literature? Did that go hand in hand with a general appreciation of the odd and unusual, or was it perhaps the other way around, or something else entirely?<br />
<br />
RO: I was born in the late 70s to parents who practiced Transcendental Meditation and were vegetarian, which was very much fringe culture at the time. So, from a very early age I was exposed to a lot of concepts and ideas that most people considered weird or strange. It was my native landscape. So yes, I believe that my appreciation for that aspect in literature comes out of that general perspective. I'm open minded about things. I think what is unique and weird about things is what makes them interesting. It's what gives me something to love about them. <br />
<br />
LW: So, you're reading this weird stuff. How, in a nutshell, did that coalesce into something called Bizarro?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Oq32_c0Cel0/V_p4vrpaRYI/AAAAAAAAC3w/yGqxbNjGucIRTc-Njdu_9Ak5Al0SWHnngCK4B/s1600/rosencarl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Oq32_c0Cel0/V_p4vrpaRYI/AAAAAAAAC3w/yGqxbNjGucIRTc-Njdu_9Ak5Al0SWHnngCK4B/s320/rosencarl.jpg" width="320" /></a>RO: Not only did I read weird stuff, but I also listened to weird music, watched weird movies, went to weird art shows and hung out with weird people. I met Carlton Mellick III through this mutual love of weirdness. He introduced me to the world of small press publishing and to a group of writers he had assembled who were all writing this kind of fiction. I fell in love with what they were doing, got involved in book publishing and assumed ownership of Eraserhead Press. I then became friends with other like-minded people in the industry who were interested in publishing these bizarre, surreal, strange stories such as Raw Dog Screaming Press and Afterbirth Books. The kind of fiction we all published shared that common thread of weirdness - the thing that made them interesting. We knew other people like us were out there who love weird stuff and needed a way to easily explain that to people, so we started calling it Bizarro. It was a short and simple way to describe it to others.<br />
<br />
LW: And what was your role, initially, in this fledgling movement?<br />
<br />
RO: I advocated for people to use the term and started building a community to support it. I described the books we published as Bizarro Fiction and the writers we worked with as writers of Bizarro. I printed "File under Bizarro Fiction" on the backs of our books and encouraged other publishers to do so as well. I created a mail order catalog in the back of the books I published advertising Bizarro books from all the publishers I knew who were printing it. I got the word out about the existence of this category in whatever ways I could. I created the first Bizarro message board and created a central hub for things related to the genre called BizarroCentral.com. I encouraged Bizarro authors to gather at conventions and created events and meetings to bring them together. I created a group for Bizarro writers, publishers, artists, and editors called the BWA and hosted monthly gatherings in my local area. I created BizarroCon, a convention specifically devoted to the Bizarro Fiction. I gave lectures, speeches, sat on panels and taught classes about Bizarro Fiction. Many of these things, I still do.<br />
<br />
LW: I've heard the beginnings of Eraserhead Press described as a real DIY, underground punk experience, of books being printed on borrowed or stolen equipment. Can you recall one specific, defining moment that made you decide "I'm going to become a publisher?"<br />
<br />
RO: What you say about our humble beginning is true. The company was founded by Carlton Mellick III in 1999 and started as a chapbook and online publisher. I met Carlton in 2000 around the time that he had formed the Eraserhead Press Collective and had decided to print paperback books using a new technology called print-on-demand. The collective was composed of six authors <i>(Carlton Mellick III, Kevin L. Donihe, D. Harlan Wilson, Vincent Sakowski, Hertzan Chimera, and M.F. Korn. - LW)</i>. The idea behind it was that each author would play a role in the editing, production and marketing of each of the six books and they would share the profits, with the author of the book receiving a 50% share and the remaining 50% divided equally between the other 5 people. I became interested in what they were doing and I discovered that, while the collective was an interesting idea, it wasn't something that everyone desired equally and therefore ultimately was not a success. I saw the opportunity to take responsibility for the business side of things, become an actual publisher, and let them get back to focusing on the stuff they did best, writing. <br />
<br />
LW: Just from my own, personal dealings with you, Rose, it's obvious you are driven to affect positive change in everything: your own life, the lives of people around you, and the world in general. Where did this spirit come from? Is being an entrepreneur a natural outgrowth of your personality, and had you tried any business ventures prior to Eraserhead Press?<br />
<br />
RO: Thank you, Lee. That is a lovely compliment. My parents and grandparents were entrepreneurs. They taught me that if you want something to exist in the world, you create it. I want to create the most beautiful and interesting life that I can, which means engaging in something bigger than myself and making a positive impact on other people. The thing that has made the most impact on my life is the books that I have read. I want to share that experience with other people. I'm also an outspoken advocate for self expression and work to create safe spaces for people to express themselves and feel appreciated. I got involved with Eraserhead Press when I was 25, and it was my first official business venture. But getting people excited for something, gathering them together and making it happen is something that has come naturally to me my whole life.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DGQ57FrqBuw/V_p-VBlZHtI/AAAAAAAAC4A/7rjE9YSLXxYy0x8nBWPL3RcYUzFwSlXPACK4B/s1600/rosetoday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DGQ57FrqBuw/V_p-VBlZHtI/AAAAAAAAC4A/7rjE9YSLXxYy0x8nBWPL3RcYUzFwSlXPACK4B/s320/rosetoday.jpg" width="320" /></a>LW: In a world where publishers, especially niche publishers, come and go at a moment's notice, to what do you attribute Eraserhead Press's success and growth?<br />
<br />
RO: Persistence. Failure is not an option. Eraserhead Press exists in the service of art and human connection. We develop real and lasting relationships with the editors and authors that we work with and the readers of our work. They are the whole point. Eraserhead Press and all of its imprints exist because of the authors and the readers.<br />
<br />
LW: Let's move on to the New Bizarro Author Series. What led to the creation of the NBAS?<br />
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RO: At the time we created the NBAS, we had already established a reputation for introducing readers to authors they fell in love with. And when you're crushing on an author's work it's like an addiction, once you're hooked, you get itchy for your next fix. So, much of our production schedule was focused on new books from authors we had already worked with, in order to keep their readers sated. We created the New Bizarro Author Series in order to provide an introduction for new unknown writers.<br />
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LW: Has it been worth it?<br />
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RO: Yes. The New Bizarro Author Series is entering its 8th year of annual releases and has acquired a following of its own. Readers look forward to the newest "batch" each year. The writers are embraced by the community and given support and encouragement for their work. It's become almost a rite of passage in some senses.<br />
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LW: What have you, as a publisher, learned from the NBAS?<br />
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RO: The importance of a support network for new writers. Most writers starting out have a difficult time connecting to people who understand their particular set of challenges as new writers. By assembling a group of them each year, they bond with each other and navigate through it together. It makes the experience a lot easier and a lot more fun. Not only that, but everyone who has been in their shoes before, the NBAS authors from previous years, are willing to offer their insight and support, expanding that network each time. <br />
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LW: Any favorite memories from NBAS history you'd like to share?<br />
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RO: From this series, some of the strongest voices in Bizarro Fiction have emerged over the years and gone on to publish more books and make an impact on the genre such as Patrick Wensink, Kirsten Alene, David Barbee, G. Arthur Brown, Justin Grimbol, Eric Hendrixson, Vince Kramer, Spike Marlowe, Kevin Shamel, and Michael Allen Rose to name a few. I am extremely proud of all of the authors in the series and am grateful to them for trusting us to help them make their debut to the bizarro audience. It's always a special time each year when the new books are born. There's nothing better than the look on an author's face when they see their book for the first time.<br />
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LW: What's in store for the future of the NBAS?<br />
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RO: This Fall, we have four new releases selected by our editors Kevin L. Donihe and Garrett Cook. The authors that you can look forward to are: R.A. Roth, Sean Thompson, John Wayne Comunale, and Nicholas Patnaude. We are thrilled to welcome them to the series and will be announcing their books in early October.<br />
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LW: For a writer looking at breaking into Bizarro, what advice can you give them, in regards to the NBAS?<br />
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RO: Your unique voice is important! Read Bizarro Fiction and write the book that only you can write. We are looking for people with their own distinct flavor of weirdness and we're willing to take risks. Don't wait for us to ask you to do it, send your books to our editors. They will be waiting.<br />
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Rose O'Keefe with just a few of the people she has inspired:<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-heaallL1b8Q/V_p_RIy8ErI/AAAAAAAAC4I/SZTHBHPjrIELP5FO0tQIKd-z9Tmlmm9bQCK4B/s1600/rosebizarro.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-heaallL1b8Q/V_p_RIy8ErI/AAAAAAAAC4I/SZTHBHPjrIELP5FO0tQIKd-z9Tmlmm9bQCK4B/s640/rosebizarro.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
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<br />NeverEndingWonderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13508099645171572601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-47927072825352042842016-08-31T19:37:00.000-07:002016-08-31T19:37:04.832-07:00Bad Art Contest: Round 2<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18.48px;">b</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18.48px;">y Karl Fischer</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18.48px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; line-height: 18.48px;">with special guests S.T. Cartledge and Brent Millis</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.48px;">And now, for your viewing pleasure, the second batch of submissions to our horrible art contest. You love it, you filthy swine!</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><i>BATHAGEDDON</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">by Katherine Parker</span><br />
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"<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Every good bath comes with a little mayhem, and this one’s got it all. Angry sea serpents, evil jelly fish, tentacles with chicken pox, alien abductions, and, of course, a continental cotton candy baby are all waiting for you, all you have to do is step outside and give a wave."</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">by Eirik Gumeny</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">"</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Where does a kaiju go when there are no more cities to smash? What does a giant monster do when the country homes have all been waylaid? When he has vanquished all that stood before him, when there is nowhere left to stand, what then?"</span><br />
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<i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Bender Vs. Zoidberg</span></i><br />
by Matthew Vaughn<br />
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"<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Bender and Zoidberg are freaking huge and destroying the city. Why are they so big? Who knows, but I bet you it has something to do with Dr. Farnsworth."</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><i>Untitled</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">by David Atkinson</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">"eerie silence"</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><br /></span></span>Karl Fischerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14874163385169816178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-49594000692126229382016-08-16T09:07:00.002-07:002016-08-16T09:07:43.727-07:00Bad Art Contest: Round 1 and Special Guest Updateby Karl Fischer<br />
with special guests S.T. Cartledge and Brent Millis<br />
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Since our announcement last week, we've added a third participant to the Bad Art Contest: Brent Millis and his kaiju porn-parody "<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Rodzilla-Respurgence-Made-DNA-ebook/dp/B01JJX1QZ6">Rodzilla Respurgence</a>." We've received three submissions to the bad art contest. Three eBooks to give away. Three contenders for the grand prize. If I weren't on my meds, I'd say it's a conspiracy.<br />
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Reap what our contest has sown:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><i>In the Kaiju's Cunt</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">by Jon James </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Artist's statement:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">"In the Kaiju's Cunt" is a digital painting that explores the depth that humans will go to in seeking satisfaction. This depth is illustrated literally, as the godzilla-esque creature penetrates her vagina with a man-made structure.</span><br />
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<br />In the piece, the observer is both the kaiju seeking pleasure, and the countless humans implicit in the background whose lives are destroyed in the pursuit. The digital, finger-painting style creates a juxtaposition of the primal and the technical, both cast aside as failures in the nihilistic race to happiness.</div>
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Ultimately, though, as the viewer already knows, and the giantess will soon learn, all joy is ephemeral; the buildings that stimulate her crumble and burn in her grasp.</div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.8px;"><i>Revenge of the Six-Hundred and Twenty-Seven Foot Wolf</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.8px;">Wolves make good monsters, I think because (unless </span><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">we're ranchers or farmers) we sort of like and admire wolves. They're </span><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">not doing anything wrong, snapping and howling and ripping flesh, </span><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">they're just being themselves. I'm not sure of the backstory of this </span><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">giant wolf, but the title hints that its destruction of this city is </span><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">probably justified, and I'll confirm that it it totally is, and that </span><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">we are allowed to enjoy it from afar.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 13.3333px;"><i>Cthulu's Sister</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 13.3333px;">by Kalr Dark</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 13.3333px;">She, like Cthulu, loves to drive people mad and very rarely let's people get away. Unlike her brother, she uses her sexiness to lure people in and the "friend zone" technique to drive people insane, until finally eating them as a snack or stealing their soul as a knickknack. </span></div>
Karl Fischerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14874163385169816178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-56248874708630738372016-08-09T09:30:00.000-07:002016-08-09T18:38:37.743-07:00Bad Art Contest: Giant Monsters, Robots, and Kaijuby Karl Fischer<br />
with special guest S.T. Cartledge<br />
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Everyone loves giant monsters and things. If they say they don't, they're fucking liars. Another thing that people love is crude, ridiculous artwork. Like this:<br />
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See that? That's the fucking Mona Lisa. Do you have any idea how much people will fork over to see that thing in person? It's a lot. The Mona Lisa is a French icon, and the French invented cream and fried potatoes, so they're not exactly smashing rocks together.<br />
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The point is, anyone can be an artist, and everyone wants to draw giant monsters for a living. Now, I can't afford to pay people to draw giant monsters, but what I CAN do is give away books. Specifically, me and Australian author, S.T. Cartledge, will give away copies of our giant monster books, FREE, to those who participate. That's right, bungholes. For one piece of artwork, you can now receive two books in digital format: <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Towers-Karl-Fischer-ebook/dp/B0172NX0OA">TOWERS</a> and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Kaiju-Canyon-S-T-CARTLEDGE-ebook/dp/B01JYRLGCU/">KAIJU CANYON</a>.<br />
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<b>How to Participate:</b><br />
From now till the end of August, all you have to do is send an ORIGINAL, horrible piece of artwork to everybodyco@gmail.com. It can depict anything, so long as "anything" constitutes a giant monster, giant robot, or some other mysterious, gargantuan creature wrecking havoc. Be sure to include a title and an official artist's statement. Once submitted and scanned for copypasta, your contribution to the visual arts will be featured on the blog and you will receive both books in whatever digital format you desire (please specify).<br />
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Not only that, but at the end of August, one lucky participant will be chosen by Shane and I as the best of the worst. This individual will then receive a giant monster goody bag filled with splendors and surprises. We might even throw in this piece of gum! When submitting be sure to include BAD ART CONTEST in the subject line.<br />
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<b>About the Books:</b><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;"><b>Towers</b>, by Karl Fischer</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_816212897"></span><span id="goog_816212898"></span><i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;">When we are locked inside ourselves, nothing outside could be worse.</i><br />
<i style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;"></i><br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;">After fighting giant monsters for a thousand years, a sentient guard tower is set to go to heaven with his soulmate. But for reasons unknown, the lovers are reborn as lowly humans living inside the Towers they once operated. Separated by thousands of miles and trapped within menageries of horror, only a profound transformation of mind and body can reunite them.</span><br />
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<a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51jGbv71UmL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51jGbv71UmL.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;"><b>Kaiju Canyon</b>, by S.T. Cartledge</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;">When a hunting expedition goes missing during a freak earthquake in the Australian Outback, the Alice Springs Police Department sends out a search team to find the missing hunters. Instead, the rescue party discovers a newly-formed canyon in the heart of the Outback. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;">Nothing could have prepared them for the horror that awaits them as they find themselves besieged by gigantic flying monsters and mutant lizards. </span><br />
<br style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;" />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px;">Kaiju Canyon is an action packed journey into primordial terror, where every step you take may be your last. </span>Karl Fischerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14874163385169816178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-52467800207133456122016-08-01T09:56:00.000-07:002016-08-08T08:06:39.834-07:00Spider Romance Microfiction Week Four!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
by Betty Rocksteady</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
Hey my darlings! Here we are, at the last week of the spider romance lineup, and like, I couldn't be happier with how this has gone. We've gotten a little bit of everything over this last month together - all told, we've had 39 spider microfiction stories to read! That's pretty amazing!</div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
This week, we have some stunningly beautiful haiku from Joesph Bouthiette Jr. (who informs me that he will not accept a prize), an epic mythological tale from Matt Neputin, and a longer-than-usual erotic story from J.K. de Carcosa that seriously gives <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Arachnophile-Betty-Rocksteady-ebook/dp/B0172MQ4RQ">Arachnophile </a>a run for its money. </div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
My favorite story this week is the beautiful IT'S OKAY by Ivana Milakovic. She can pick an NBAS ebook of her choice! </div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
I also want to mention that two people have the rather dubious honor of having participated in EVERY week of this challenge - Lee Forman and Kevin Strange. What a couple of weirdos. For being fabulous and gross and weird, I'm gonna let them each pick a print from my <a href="http://www.redbubble.com/people/bettyrocksteady">redbubble shop</a>. </div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: left;">
Okay! Wow! Thanks so much for playing everyone!!! </div>
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
I
WAS A GIANT SPIDER BITCHES VIBRATOR</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
By
Leigham Shardlow</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-top: 0cm;">
They came from space. I know fifties sci-fi cliche in
a goddamn nutshell but my younger brother swears that one fell out of the sky
over by Ogenville two towns over. I thought it was some mad science experiment,
but he's a trusted source, he once said that he found a dead body by the lake
and the next day the doctors diagnosed him with a virus only found on dead
bodies. Fact checked that shit on google as well because my brother also says
you can't trust doctors a hundred percent. Something about some shit soap opera
he watched on tv once. </div>
<div style="margin-top: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-top: 0cm;">
Anyway, giant fucking spiders with sexy girls heads.
Not like Charlie's Angels levels here but close, darn close. Well they were
here one day and most of them died from the army. Explosions and fucking
machine guns win everytime. A few people got eaten sure but it was worth it to
see these huge spider creatures crash and burn. Boom! Smash! People screaming,
so fucking cool. Let me tell you I spent hours watching the attacks on youtube
for months afterwards. </div>
<div style="margin-top: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
Well they rounded up a few of the runts they didn't turn into swiss cheese
and they are in some fucking zoo in China or whatever. Costs a fortune to go see
them probably, I saw them for free man. <br />
They missed one though, some mutant. It had a sexy human body but a spiders
head you know? I mean I suppose you do if you're reading this but whatever. <br />
<br />
I saw it a bit too late to be honest, I was listening to some kick ass
thrash metal on my phone, Mordred I think they kick ass. So it had snuck up on
me then It had grabbed me and I was all like<br />
"Oh fuck!". Legit going
to admit I was scared, I didn't piss myself or anything though. Not a fucking
total pussy. <br />
<br />
It just looked at me for ages then like in a sweetest voice of maybe Lucy
Liu, she was like "You're cute, I love you. I'll call you Mr.
Wriggles." <br />
<br />
Then she shoved me up her gigantic cooter. It fucking stunk man. Like worse
than cat sick dude and I fucking hate cat sick. It was dark as balls, this like
gunk washed over me and I totally ralphed my McDonalds up. The more I struggled
the faster she plunged me inside her. Then the walls like suddenly got fucking
tight as shit. I made this huge spider bitch cum. I almost drowned on her cum. <br />
<br />
When things got loose she pushed me in further with two fingers and now I'm
fucking left me in here.<br />
My phone survived but it's about to die. If anyone
finds this and my corpse can you tell my brother that I totally gave a giant spider
babe head and was deep inside her. Shit was so cash. <br />
<br />
Thanks Tommy. <br />
<br />
<i>Leigham does not have a little self written book entitled "weird porn
ideas to wank to". Please stop asking.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
LUCK
OF THE DRAW</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
By J.E.
Housdan</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I stumble over what I think are rocks, all but blind in the darkness of the
cave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wisps of web, soft as butterfly
wings, caress my face as I blunder about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Tears slip down my cheeks as I wonder at the beauty I must be destroying
in my rambling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know she is watching
me from somewhere, even in the dark I can feel her many eyed gaze on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
How did I get so lucky?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can't
explain how my heart leapt with joy when my number was called and I couldn't
wait to leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They give the winners a
week to say goodbye and settle their affairs but I've been ready for a couple
years now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew it was meant to be I'm
just surprised it took this long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
She speaks to me you see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever since
that fateful night I saw her emerge from her cave she has called to me and oh
how I have loved her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It been a constant
struggle not to run into her many legged embrace but that is not how things are
done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have to wait for your number
to be drawn, you must wait your turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But oh how she dances in my head, even now, her sleek black body
gleaming in the moonlight.<br />
<br />
I hear a soft clattering behind me and I know my love is approaching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Arms outstretched I feel the weight of her as
she descends on a gossamer strand and her many jointed legs envelope my body. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
My heart hammers in my chest, not with fear
but joy, as I feel her fangs pierce my flesh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As the poison flows, numbing my limbs, she begins to wrap me in her
silk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"I love you, take everything
I have to give" I say as I fade into a darkness that shines like the
moonlight on her lovely body.<br />
<br />
<i>J. E. Housdan is a lover of bizarre, splatter punk horror, cheesy B
movies, and cats. He lives in Arkansas with his love, a cat named
Abigale, and dreams of being a writer.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
IT'S
OKAY</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
by Ivana
Milakovic</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The first time when I saw him, I was petrified. <br />
<br />
I really, seriously... Well, not exactly hate, but dislike spiders. And this
one was huge, on the wall right next to my head. <br />
<br />
Then he spoke, and I realized that he was a she. <br />
<br />
"Relax," the spider said. "I have no intention to force you
to mate with me, or anything like that." <br />
<br />
"Huh?" <br />
<br />
"Well, unless you want to mate with me, but then it wouldn't be forcing
you, would it? Not that I have any idea how to actually do it with a human,
but..." <br />
<br />
"I don't want to," I blurted out. <br />
<br />
"That's okay," the spider said. <br />
<br />
"With anyone. Ever." <br />
<br />
"That's okay, too," the spider answered softly. <br />
<br />
It was the first time someone said that to me. <br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<br />
She made herself at home, and I realized I didn't mind having her around.
Mostly she was just there, weaving her web, improving it, and waiting for the
food to fly straight into it. <br />
<br />
Sometimes she talked to me. There was a lot of anger in her. It was a relief
to hear someone speak about the anger I felt. <br />
<br />
"It's biology, they say. You have to mate with us. We come to you
during that time, and you have to.<br />
That's the way it is." She grinned. Don
asked how I knew that a spider grinned. I just did. "Well, it's also
biology when I eat them afterwards. And when I eat the little ones, if the
little fuckers I never wanted in my life or in my web don't run away fast
enough." <br />
<br />
"Don't you love them?" <br />
<br />
"The males or the little ones?" <br />
<br />
"Either. Both." <br />
<br />
"There was never a male I loved or wanted. A few females, yes, but no
males. And I didn't love the little ones, either. Never wanted them." <br />
<br />
"Did you hate them?" <br />
<br />
"No. I just wanted them to leave me alone. Those who did are just
fine." <br />
<br />
"That's how I felt, about my... Little one. And everyone called me a
monster. I never hurt her, I took<br />
care of her, but I didn't love her." <br />
<br />
"You're not a monster. We don't always love the little ones. That's
okay." <br />
<br />
It was the first time someone told me that, too. <br />
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="text-align: center;">
*</div>
<br />
For a while, it was just the two of us, and an occasional lady friend of
hers coming to visit. <br />
<br />
Then, some of her lady friends asked if they could stay. I said yes. I knew
that she would like them to stay, there's plenty of room for everyone, and they
keep the pests away. <br />
<br />
And we talk. And I'm okay. We're all okay. <br />
<br />
I wonder if I'm turning into a crazy spider lady.<br />
<br />
It would be okay, too. <br />
<br />
<i>Ivana Milakovic lives in Belgrade, Serbia, with the love of her life, and
mostly writes short stories (horror, fantasy, fairy tales retold) and video
scripts. She's the author of a short story collection "Macji snovi"
(it means "Cat Dreams"). She enjoys historical fencing, attempts to
befriend every cat she sees, and occasionally blogs at <a href="https://angel011.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">https://angel011.wordpress.com/</a></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
THE
CARRIER</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
by
Lee A. Forman</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Ron wiped the sweat from his brow as he walked up to 59 Hanford Street. He
pulled the mail from his bag and went to place it in the mailbox when he
noticed a note taped to the lid. <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dear postal worker: </i><br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m sorry to ask, but there’s a
horrible spider inside the mailbox and I can’t get my mail! Can you please take
care of it for me? I’d really appreciate it! </i><br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thanks! </i><br />
<br />
He carefully lifted the lid and peeked inside. Yesterday’s mail was still
there. He jerked his hand back when he saw the web. Ron hated spiders. <br />
<br />
He took a deep breath and opened the lid again. I’ve got to deliver the damn
mail— snow, rain, heat, and even spiders. <br />
<br />
Slowly, he reached in to pull out the letters and junk mail. He froze when
the tiny black creature crawled up his hand. <br />
<br />
“Sorry to bother you, but I couldn’t help notice how handsome you are.” <br />
<br />
Ron’s mouth hung open. The fucking spider did not just talk to you. It’s the
heat. Yeah, it’s just the heat fucking with you. <br />
<br />
“You look like no one’s ever complimented you before,” the spider said. <br />
<br />
“No, I’m sorry. It’s just that… Spiders don’t talk!” <br />
<br />
“Well I’m a spider, and I’m talking to you. Because you’re hot stuff. How
about you and I go somewhere dark and damp, chat for a while.” <br />
<br />
He didn’t know how to respond. Am I losing my mind? <br />
<br />
“Listen, babe. How about just one date? Let me make a good first impression.
My name’s Rachel.” <br />
<br />
“Okay. I guess so. I mean, this is really weird though.” <br />
<br />
“Don’t worry, one night with me you’ll forget all about how weird it is.” <br />
<br />
A week later he took Rachel to work. She crawled down his hand before he put
the mail in each box and laid her eggs between the bills and credit card
offers. Every house got their share. <br />
<br />
After all, Ron always wanted children. Lots of them. <br />
<br />
<i>Lee Forman is a fiction writer from the Hudson Valley, NY. For more
information go to <a href="http://www.leeformanfiction.com/">www.leeformanfiction.com</a></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
STEVE
THE SPIDER</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
by
Kevin Strange</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Steve's fingers ripped open as the claw and tarsus of four hairy legs broke
through the skin, spraying blood and bits of torn flesh across the bathroom. He
screamed out in abject horror as the metatarsus, tibia, patella, and femur of
those same four legs grew exponentially from inside his body and cracked and
splintered his forearm.<br />
<br />
He bit through his tongue when the same thing happened on the other side.
Blood gushed as the thick muscle plopped out of his mouth and into the drain of
the sink. Soon his teeth followed suit, clanking into the porcelain basin one
after another as a pair of curved fangs protruded from his cracked and bloody
lips. He felt the pedipalp burrow through holes in his cheeks as his esophagus
crumbled to make way for the poison gland and digestive tube.<br />
<br />
A moment later, his head cracked open like an egg, sending the remaining
bits of humanity, his eyeballs, brain and related organs sliding into the basin
like the ingredients of a nice omelet, making way for the complete
cephalothorax to emerge. <br />
<br />
Steve never intended to turn into a giant spider. Steve just wanted to get
laid. <br />
<br />
It all started with a blowjob. <br />
<br />
Steve met a very nice, very sexy girl named Sharron while cruising for sex
on the internet. Sharron was into fucked up shit. Luckily, so was Steve. <br />
<br />
Sharron liked to blow random guys while on the phone with her husband, some
guy named Evan. It was a game they played. Sharron would call him up when she
had a nice big dick in her mouth and<br />
Evan would pretend he didn't know what was
going on. <br />
<br />
Kinky shit. Weird shit. Steve didn't care because Steve got his dick sucked
and that's all that mattered to him as it pertained to Sharron and Evan. <br />
<br />
They met up at a hotel and did this a few times with no issues. Then Sharron
took an apparent liking to the above average length and girth of Steve's cock,
and they started seeing each other outside of Sharron and Evan's kinky phone
escapades. <br />
<br />
Sharron didn't only enjoy sucking cock on the phone with her husband. She
also enjoyed sucking cock in public. <br />
<br />
Which is what lead them into the seedy after hours district downtown one
night after Sharron had tucked Evan into bed. <br />
<br />
“I wanna do it in here,” Sharron said, pointing to a tiny store front
between a massage parlor and a tobacco pipe shop. <br />
<br />
“Drusilla's potions and more?” Steve asked, looking at the dubious, hand
scrawled sign hanging from above the door. <br />
<br />
“Yep.” <br />
<br />
Steve was in no position to complain about where Sharron wanted to suck his
dick, so he held the door open and smiled, allowing his lady friend to step
inside. <br />
<br />
It was right before he came in Sharron's mouth that it happened. <br />
<br />
“What in five hells are you doing back there?” <br />
<br />
Drusilla. <br />
<br />
They'd found a quiet corner out of eye-shot from the front counter where the
shelves were high.<br />
<br />
Usually Sharron could work Steve's shaft and balls to orgasm
in under four minutes. They'd timed it.<br />
But apparently that was too long for
Drusilla and she'd come snooping to see what her customers were up to while
Sharron was corkscrewing Steve's cock with both hands and sucking on his left
nut.<br />
<br />
This startled her, causing her to choke and bite down, which startled
Steve, causing him to jerk back against the shelf behind him. Sharron yelped
and stood up, putting her tits away as two jars from the top shelf fell past
Steve's head and shattered on the floor. <br />
<br />
“By all that is holy and sacred get outta my shop!” Drusilla yelled, pulling
her black shroud around her shoulders in revulsion. Her eastern European accept
was so thick, she sounded like the bride of Dracula. <br />
<br />
Kind of looks like a vampire, too, Steve thought as he yanked up his pants
and scurried out of the shop behind Sharron. She was young and pale with
striking features. Beautiful even pissed off. He chanced a look back as he
burst into a giggle fit, hoping to catch a glimpse of her ass. <br />
<br />
What he saw instead was a knife in her hand, stabbing into a huge spider
she'd picked up from the shattered jar on the floor. <br />
<br />
“I curse you, pervert! I curse you for all time!” <br />
<br />
“Steve? You ok in there?” Sharron asked from the hotel room bed. “I'm
getting kinda hungry. You wanna go out for a bite to eat?” <br />
<br />
In the bathroom, Steve stepped over the slimy remains of his human skin. He
was hungry. In fact, he was starving. <br />
<br />
<i>Kevin Strange doesn't really jack off to spiders. He writes books at
KevinTheStrange.com, which is kind of like the artistic equivalent of jacking
off to spiders. Or not that at all, actually.</i><br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
BANANAS
AND SPIDERS</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
By Matt
Neputin</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The door to the temple opened and I saw the statue for the first time: A
spider with breasts looking down upon me. I was to become its eternal guardian.
I looked around the temple; it was almost completely dark other than the small
hole that shined light on top of the statue, through which the food dripped in,
allowing me to survive. This light would change from bright gold to glowing
pale silver. When the light was golden, ripe mashed bananas, peel and all, were
shoved through the hole and plopped in front of me. This was the only way I
could keep track of time. <br />
<br />
After 60 cycles, I've decorated the statue with moldy banana peels. This
attracted the flies. I spent hours catching as many as I could. When I had
enough, I scraped the foul paste into the spider’s mouth; She seemed…grateful.
I talked to her for hours as I caught flies. <br />
<br />
Twenty more cycles passed, the flies multiplied faster than I could catch
them, creating a thick, putrid, buzzing smog. I killed what I could and offered
them to the altar. The thick miasma replaced the stagnant, moist air in the
temple. I started praying to the spider icon to come back to life to rid the
temple of this plague, begging her to claim her overwhelming bounty. <br />
<br />
Innumerable cycles past before my prayers were answered. The stench of
rotted bananas and flies attracted larger insects that binged on the miasma.
When the air became breathable once more, I killed these larger pests quite
easily as they lazily dined. I gathered them for the spider, and that was when
the spider started talking to me. She told me I was very handsome, and that she
wished to court me. At first I said that I was just a lonely servant, but she
protested, and then insisted. <br />
<br />
There was no light this cycle; it was pitch black. This happened from time
to time when crusted bananas blocked the hole up. However tonight was
different. The darkness lasted so long, I don’t know for how long or whether it
was day or night. Time stood so, uncomfortably still...until I felt something
prickly, narrow and long grazed up my back, almost like I was being…caressed.
It felt almost like an elongated hand, but it wasn’t human…another grazed up my
inner thigh, another up my neck, another across my chest, another started
pumping me hard, nearly ripping me raw. I couldn’t see, but it had to be her.
She didn’t make a single sound, neither did I, but her hands were all the words
we needed. I threw myself into those arms and made love to her. <br />
<br />
Then the door opened. The light burned my eyes to the back of my skull. They
said that I served my time. They wanted to separate me from my beloved. I had
to kill them, to stay with my beloved. We feasted on the rotting corpses of the
priests during our honeymoon. <br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i>Matt Neputin is a writer from
Poland who currently runs a webcomic about porn addiction http://nopornplan.com</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
CHOCOLATE WIDOW HEARTS </div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
By Joseph Bouthiette Jr.</div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
chitin kisses, love</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
note webs, poison poetry,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
a fang to suckle</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
an eight-lobed sex toy</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
pinches the puckered skin and</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
hangs from the ceiling</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
her ebon lacquer</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
semen in the hourglass</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
her ebon laughter</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
penetrating the</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
joints, fertilizing the eyes,</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
swallowing the eggs</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
flies kiss flies sigh flies</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
suck flies fuck flies moan flies
sleep</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
flies kill flies eat flies</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
singing sweet nothings</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
(the language of extracted</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
innards): a ballad</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
candlelit dinner</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
in the dining room corner</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
with web, dust, and wine</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
tonguing a tongueless</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
maw, an absence of romance</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
in mating's designs</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<i>
</i><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<i>Joseph Bouthiette Jr. is co-editor
of Carrion Blue 555 and Scrimshaw Obscura. His short fiction and poetry has
appeared in Lost Signals, Mythos Fragments, and Journal of Experimental
Fiction. He is an avid board gamer and poops several times a day.</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
STRETCH</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
by J K deCarcosa</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Idly sitting and touching his flaccid penis, he flipped through the channels on
the dilapidated old television, seeking some new stimulation. Excitement. Porn
- vanilla, hardcore, gonzo, gay, young, old.. nothing held his interest for
long, and he yearned to finally get off once more, Full erections a rarity, he
masturbated every night and fell asleep unsatisfied. Tonight, he noticed it - a
spider crawling on the arm of the couch. The spider's large, thick, glistening
abdomen reflected the light of the television, gleaming as it stepped slowly,
methodically, along.<br />
*<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">Is
the spider a male or female</span></i>, he wondered. <i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">Does it have a vagina?
A pussy? A... cunt?</span></i> <i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">Do they have little fangs or swollen, soft
lips?</span></i> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
*</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As he thought about spider pussy, his flaccid stub started
to stiffen and grow. He wondered... <i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">how would it feel?</span></i> <i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">Fucking
a spider?</span></i> <i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">Could it even stretch around his girth?
Would he feel eight scratchy legs limply twitching and brushing against his
fully engorged shaft, or more?</span></i> Finally hard, he smiled and moved
closer to the spider. Wondering what would happen, he rested his cock directly
in the spider's path.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
*</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She simply crawled over the fleshy obstruction, and he
shuddered, feeling her legs upon his cock. It tickled. As she crawled, the
flesh upon which she was traversing began to vibrate and shake. Losing her
traction for just a moment, she slipped, abdomen falling and brushing against
him, lightly brushing his cock before regaining her balance. He, saw her
abdomen dip, imagined that she had done it intentionally. Rubbed her shiny
little spider pussy across the head of his throbbing cock.<br />
*</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">Did that spider just try to fuck me,</span></i> he thought to
himself, and cupped the spider with his other, gently transferring her back to
the couch but blocked her from crawling away. Slowly, he lowered himself on top
of her,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>fingers curling around his now
lubricated, glistening tip. Holding her still, he rubbed himself up against her
abdomen. She gasped and shuddered realizing what she had climbed across, and
what was now stroking her back. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
*</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">*Was this human really trying to fuck her,*</span></i> she
thought to herself. *<i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">Should I plunge my fangs into his glans to
teach a painful lesson?*</span></i> Mandibles clicking, fang ichor dripping,
she realized... her other ichor was starting to ooze from the swollen lips
beneath her abdomen. Standing her ground, she thrusted back.<br />
*<br />
He felt it. Her spidery pussy, swollen, engorged, and growing. Fingers around
his head, he stimulated himself and slid his shaft up and down her arachnid
frame. Feeling the abdominal smoothness, the soft itchy poking of her jointed
exoskeleton scraping against the pulsing vein that parallelled his fully erect,
glistening shaft. He started to come and involuntarily moaned. Hearing this,
despite her pain, the spider spread her lips as wide as she could and pushed
back, breathing deeply. She stretched, cracking, but the sensation of being
filled by this human's massive cock excited her so much that she no longer
cared. He was inside now, in her pussy. She felt every bit of meat filling her
as never before. Thrashing uncontrollably, her eyes rolled back as she let out
a chittering squeal, clicking, screaming, twitching, groaning and moaning as
she rocked on his cock.<br />
*<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">Oh
my god,</span></i> he realized... he <i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">was fucking her</span></i>. <i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">Cupping
and fucking a spider</span></i>. He thrusted, slowly at first, then harder,
harder and faster until he felt himself coming. With one last thrust, he pushed
hard, beginning to climax. <i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">Rush.</span></i> Orgasm crashed down on him,
and together they came. Transfixed in this moment of time, locked in sweating
agony. Involuntarily, his hand closed tighter as he ground in and out of her.<br />
*<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">Hallelujah</span></i>.
He peaked as his ecstasy mingled with her dying screams. She thrashed with
little leg-twitching spider-gasms. Felt him in and out, his come shooting out
until.. she burst. With the sickly sound of exoskeleton giving way, cracking,
tearing, scratching, dying... he jerked wildly. Fucking the broken body of the
dead spider. he felt her milk dripping around his cock. Finished, he wiped off
with a smile. A cigarette-worthy, hard-earned smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lay there, cigarette smoke swirling, and
scanned the ceiling for cobwebs, cocoons, anything. Stiffening again, he
decided to step out for a walk to catch the cool evening air and perhaps a
pretty little thing to match his mood. <i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">Maybe an orb weaver</span></i>. Imagining
the size of its abdomen, he began earnestly masturbating until it hurt.<br />
*<br />
He noticed the head of his cock had become mottled, dark, not normal at all. He
felt panic and trepidation, and wondered if his penis was going to shrivel up,
if it was going to blacken and shrink to the size of a little spider dingus. He
ran his hand over his ass, imagining it a giant spider abdomen, and began to
finger his asshole. Remembering, he slid his finger into his puckered hole,
wiggled it around, then pressed against his prostate. Moonlight reflected from
his eyes and back, as he rode his finger in the night like his arachnid spider
mistress had.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
*<br />
Then he realized.. the pain had changed. It bulged and moved, rippled under the
taut skin of his erect cock. Then... the first one crawled out of his urethral
hole. <i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">A live spider baby.</span></i> A tiny little <i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">spider
baby</span></i>. Eyes wide with horror, he realized he had <i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">FUCKED
A PREGNANT SPIDER</span></i> and absorbed her egg sac into his dick. As the
babies hatched, there was no holding back. He rubbed harder, mounting his hand,
feeling them pop like bubble wrap. They twitched, burst, and died as he
screamed and came with an earth-shattering orgasm.<br />
*<br />
He closed his eyes, squeezed out that last drop, and drifted. His heart spasmed
as they continued to flow out, around him. Neurons exploded, body shaking,
until it too lay gently in the night, covered in moonlit fibers of his new
cocoon. The babies chittered, their hungers sated as they fed, and grew.., and <i><span style="font-family: "times-italic" , serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Italic;">grew</span></i>.<br />
*</div>
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[end]</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<i><span class="_5yl5">A relative newcomer to the literary theatre of the absurd, J K deCarcosa assures us that - though our families may be salted and hanging in the ol' shed out back, jerky-fying.. we can still find happiness in the world today. Enjoy this creepy, crawlin' tale, and if you feel it scratch that itch until you can't scratch no more. Enjoy.</span></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12311442612134010445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-61662049299513957892016-07-25T09:36:00.000-07:002016-08-08T08:06:39.838-07:00Spider Microfiction Romance Week 3by Betty Rocksteady<br />
<br />
Kay. You guys are all so cool. I think everyone who participated in this is SUPER COOL. If you haven't participated, you have one more week to get me to think you're cool.<br />
<br />
As you probably (maybe?) know, I'm the author of <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Arachnophile-Betty-Rocksteady-ebook/dp/B0172MQ4RQ">Arachnophile</a>, a story about love and art and death and sex and spiders. So inspired by that, I'm running this little challenge to get lots of cool stories about spider romance. The first two weeks are <a href="http://nbas2015.blogspot.ca/2016/07/spider-romance-microfiction-week-one.html">here</a> and <a href="http://nbas2015.blogspot.ca/2016/07/spider-romance-microfiction-week-two.html">here</a>.<br />
<br />
This week was my fave week so far. My favorite of all is the strange little snippet of television history discovered by Leigham Shardlow. We also have a super cool sci fi occult piece by Kevin Strange, a powerful piece by Jon James, a creepy mythological story by SL Koch, and a lovely bizarro story by Chris Meekings. Plus more! Read em all!!! Which was your favorite?<br />
<br />
Wanna get in on the last week? The rules are easy and right <a href="http://nbas2015.blogspot.ca/2016/07/spider-romance-microfiction-contest.html">here</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="List Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="List Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="List Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="List Table 7 Colorful Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="List Table 1 Light Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="List Table 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="List Table 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="List Table 4 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="List Table 5 Dark Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="List Table 6 Colorful Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
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<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
SHE</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
By Chris Meekings</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was cold and raining when I let her inside.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The spider tapped lightly on the kitchen window as I washed
up the marmoset in the cold metal sink. I looked up from the drowning monkey,
and saw her small form dangling from spider silk. She tapped again – a tiny
sound like the laughter of flowers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was small, barely the size of a coin. A black spider,
spinning lazily on her thread of silk. Large, fat rain drops fell around her,
like canonballs. I leaned forward and stared into her eight arachnid eyes,
gazing into a blue-blackness of space voids. Those hollow eyes cried out in
pleading – let me in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I placed my hand against the window. The glass bowed and
bulged. A tingling feeling shot up my arm as it passed through the glass. Blue
chipolatas exploded on my skin, as I closed my fist around the tiny spider.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I pulled my hand back and opened it, letting her slink onto
the kitchen counter. She tipped her bonnet to me, and scuttled off to find a
refuge.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was bigger when she ate the cat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I lay back on the sofa watching my video of Grace Jones
doing aerobics. I was hard at the sight, but trying not to make too much of a
fuss about it. I spoon-fed myself from of bowl of Skittles and Whiskey mix,
grinning inanely.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The cat purred at my ankles. It was trying to convince me to
buy a 2 week timeshare option in the Canary Islands. I hated it when my cat
attempted to swindle money from me. I signed the paperwork, mainly to get the
free champagne, but also to get the cat to leave me alone. Wait – how much had
I just signed over?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The cat folded the paperwork into its waist-coat pocket. It
put on its felt fedora and pulled out its violin. It started to play a
Hungarian Rhapsody to cover its exit. Swine cat!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The spider leaped from the corner. She was far bigger now.
The husks of discarded carapace now made sense. She had been molting – growing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It one fluid motion she went from a dark shadow to a mass of
black, midnight legs wrapped around the struggling feline. I watched in horror
as the hard fangs sunk into the cat's neck.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She dragged the carcass back into her corner. I finally
remembered I hadn't breathed for at least a minute. My blood felt like ice and
my ears picked up heavy static. What monster had I let into my house?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Slowly, she scuttled towards me. Delicately, she extended
one leg and placed the contract I had just signed back onto the arm of my
chair.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I took the paperwork and nearly gasped at the figure I had
signed over. Grace Jones lunged on the television, showing off her rock hard
ass.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thank you,” I said, and gently took the spider's leg in my
hand.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chris Meekings is a
lie to impress the gullible. Don't let him in your house or he will eat all
your Jelly Babies.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
THE TASTE OF HIS
MANDIBLES</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
By SL Koch</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After years, Bernard finally pried open his third eye only
to see a</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
spider working between transparent walls outside reality.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bernard followed, staring intent, boots walked cracked
cement, haunted</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
gaze stole glimpses of chitin curvatures that careened like
walking</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
cranes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Desire burned deep, Bernard stroked himself off to his Lord
and</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
spinner. The beast between walls of time showed no notice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nine to five cement prisons held only ignorance from which
Bernard</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
awoke. Truth would endanger him, the world would lock him
away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stumbling city inmates saw no gods outside legislature.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Antiseptic scholars scrubbed city walls clean. Look here! No
gods</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
hidden beneath muck! Filth! Entropic rust! Government
regulations</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
approve no gods!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Yuan was god this week, radios whispered from insidious
darkness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before cancer silenced her, mother scolded Bernard that but
dollars</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
spun their lives.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bernard dreamed every day the taste of mandibles. True love
knew no</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
distance. Passion was a force of bounds remained unbroken.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On Bernard’s path home he saw the Lord’s powerful eyes were
upon him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Why wish such things of me?” the God’s words embedded into
Bernard’s</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
brain with no voice nor sound outside the echoes of
mandibles</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
clicking.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bernard sputtered. “Weaver, my love, I dream every day of
you. I long</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
for your divine taste.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You name me, this? Weaver?” rough mandibles chittered deep
in his</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
mind. Bernard doubted now, momentarily, was he insane? “I am
but</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Egregore. Sentient thoughtform. Grown in infested minds,
become real,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
loved, until my creators died and became only my thoughts.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bernard shuddered, lowered to scraped knees. “Please.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A god towered, massive, monolith, alien, unsettled.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“To stop the eternal dying I weave the world alive.” the
Weaver’s</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
words shook Bernard, who gazed, then, epiphanic past
chitinous frame</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
to other godthings scuttling beyond the doors of time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My heart aches to drink the fountain.” Bernard sobbed
upright.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Taste your creator?” His Lord considered. “You accept this
price?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bernard crawled, driven, clothes removed to climb and writhe</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
passionately against shell. A spider kneecap now in mouth as
he kissed</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
delicately, tongue bleeding on jagged spikes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bernard felt his flesh unravel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bones peeking as meat slipped aside. With difficulty Bernard
climbed</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
over pedipalps to taste for brief seconds, before the
illusion of</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
time, long worn, slid away. No human was truly flesh.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bones clattered loudly below. With no throat to scream,
Bernard’s</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
tongue pressed upon poison soaked mandibles which folded as
his body</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
unfolded.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stomach and intestines spiraled upon rough stone,
splattering visceral</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
guts followed. A ribcage and skull remained, Bernard
watching his</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
maker with remaining eye. Even bones and organs reverted to
what</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
they’d always been. Ensanguined chunks faded pale, inert,
where only</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
web remained. Silk, once disguised as Bernard, fallen neat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I was truly blessed.” Bernard’s separating consciousness
smiled. His</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
silk remains go to newborns, trees, clouds and streams.
“Love is the</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
binding unbroken.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Holographic silk had once convinced itself to be a man named
Bernard,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
now it returned, merging, into the holographic illusion of
life. The Weaver continued spinning.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">SL Koch is secretly a
hollowed out walking battlestation piloted and</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">maintained by a
disparate band of inch tall survivors stranded here on</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">their mission from
another planet. Their personal site</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">http://theendlessstrip.com/
remains unfinished, and yet, will be even</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">when “complete”.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
THE SPIDERS LAST
DANCE</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
By Groot Marbles</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Regan Knox knew what she wanted out of her life. She was
only 23 and had her way of living all set up. Stay away from her family and
where she grew up and she would get her allowance for life. Five thousand a
month. Enough for her apartment, car, food, books and whatever else she needed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Regan you see, was not exactly what you would call normal.
From an early age she dressed in all black, and at the age of 13 she died her
tendrils of auburn colored hair as black as her clothing. She was far ahead of
her peers however, excelling her to graduate before the age of 15 from
highschool. But she didn't like the atmosphere of college and instead chose to
stay locked away in her room.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There, she studied what had become her biggest and strongest
passion. Entomology. The study of insects. Particularly one variety of insect
more then any other that she had become what many would term obsessed with, was
the arachnid. Arachnids to her were the absolute gleaming star of the world of
bugs. Spiders through and through knew exactly what they wanted, and how to get
it. Just like her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This of course did not bode well with her parents or her
siblings. All of her family members were frightened by her and on the day of
her eighteenth birthday promptly set up a meeting with the families lawyers,
drew up the contracts, and booted her from their home. They had the money to do
this as her parents were owners of a family business that owned a quarter of
all the businesses in their town of Weschill Valley, Illinois.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Regan, at the age of 23 knew what she wanted in her life.
She decorated her apartment with every imaginable drawing and encasement that
would adorn her walls, her bedspread and everywhere else with spiders. She
fashioned all of her clothes to mimic spiderwebs or the arachnid anatomy any
way she could and spent more money then necessary from retailers all over the
world. Regan knew what she wanted out of life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She lay nude on her bed, pale bone white skin. Thin lips.
Accentuated hips. The living embodiment of an adult Wednesday Addams. Complete
with braids. She lay there and sighed, bored. She looked from her laptops glow
in the corner of her apartment and marveled at the desktop. An image of a
Goliath Bird eater. This made her smile, if even for a moment. The only friends
she could ever want were always the same. Spiders. In some way, shape or form.
Spiders. She had little to no use for other human beings. She just simply could
not connect the dots for any reason why she needed to have them in her life
outside of giving her the conveniences she enjoyed. She closed her eyes and let
out another sigh. She considered masturbating but that was lackluster. Perhaps
something to eat she pondered in the darkness behind her eyelids. It was past
midnight. No, she had already ate earlier and had spent more then she should
have on the mountain of books that had still not been open that took up another
corner of her apartment. She had to reserve what she had until the next month
which was only a week and a half away. She played with the various thoughts in
her mind until she began to feel hairs, bristly as they were on either side of
her body. It didn't register to open her eyes until she felt the weight on the
bed shift and when she did, her hazel eyes met the most largest arachnid she
had ever seen. But no scream left her lips. However a very audible purring did.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Marveling at its immense size and body, she could not for
the life of her figure out how it could have possibly gotten into her room
without her noticing. There was only a small window and the door. But her mind
only seemed to flirt with such thoughts as her thighs seemed to move more
smoothly against each other then before the sight of the behometh that stood
above her on eight legs. She was getting aroused in no time. A dream come true
she thought. She closed her eyes and spread her legs, awaiting the beastial
wish of wishes to become reality. Regan knew what she wanted out of life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next day a small, childsize cocoon was adorned in the
corner of the room. A large trail of blood had made a stream down the front
from a large hole near the top. Regan was nowhere to be found. But on her bed
moved another large cocoon. Inside were hundreds of hungry mouths. And each and
every baby spider knew what it wanted out of its life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Groot eats alot. Groot
loves sleep. Groot doesn't get much sleep. Groot likes to play. Sometimes,
Groot groots about being, well. Groot. Groot lives with his fiancé in Illinois
Southside suburbs. Groot would like to one day see a book of his come into the
light of day. For now, Groot just likes to try not to get blown up.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">FADE TO BLACK</span></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">By Ivan Zoric</span></div>
He's playing Fade To Black tonight.<br />
<br />
I can see his legs moving across the web, strumming, all eight working in
unison, making 'Tallica sound like cover band in comparison. He’s using the
thicker base threads as bass strings and hopping over to the outer edges for
Hammet’s solos. He shreds like a pro. How does he get distortion on that thing?
Fucker knows me better than I know myself. I wonder how long he has been
watching me, out of his corner, hoping for some sort of a connection. Hoping
for a friendship.<br />
<br />
The first time I heard him, after feeding him a fly out of boredom, he
played You Can Call Me Al. Just like that. Real talent, I tell you. Well, if I
could prove it to anyone, that is. He's got this WB frog thing down, of course.
The moment I show him off he goes silent, weaving his web, minding his
business. Oh, but as soon as the guest leaves he will go into I'm Going
Slightly Mad. Just to fuck with me. I can't kill him, nor would I want to. He's
the best friend I ever had. My arachnobuddy. He can tell the mood I am in
before I even realize it.<br />
<br />
When I met Dana he played Lovefool all night long, knowing how much the song
annoys me. He’s funny like that. When she swore eternal love to me, he went
full Type O Negative and Love You To Death was stuck on repeat for good two
weeks. Tonight, as my life is falling apart since she's fucking someone else,
he goes for the classic. He sees the bottle, the razor and the determination in
my step. I will miss my spider. Fucker knows me better than anyone else.<br />
<br />
I’m ready. Gin has numbed my limbs and my brain enough so I will not feel
much. I look up, but I do not see him in the corner. The web is still
vibrating, but all I hear now is a deep rumble, like a storm in the distance.
Well, fuck it. I wanted to say goodbye to the only thing loving me these days,
but he left just like everyone else. Surprise, surprise.<br />
<br />
I grab the razor, eyeing my wrists. They say you’re supposed to cut along
not across, if you want to make sure it’s done right. The rug will be ruined,
but she bought it anyway. Bitch can burn it for all I care.<br />
<br />
The rumble gets louder, almost as it is coming from two different sources
now. Out of a corner of my eye, I notice movement across the ceiling.<br />
<br />
My friend is back, but this time not alone. There is a huge ass spider next
to him. A Sydney funnel-web, no less.<br />
<br />
Before I could even utter a word, the riff hits. Last Caress.<br />
<br />
I drop the razor, as I realize what he has done for me.<br />
<br />
Fucker loves me more than anyone else. <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ivan Zoric lives in Portland, OR after
successfully navigating<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>through
treacherous waters of childhood in Serbia. He spends his days dreaming about
owls, Corner Worlds and immortality.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
PSYDER</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
by
Kevin Strange</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I'm not a spider. I'm a Psyder. At least, that's what I call myself.<br />
<br />
She left her window cracked. My non-corporeal form slides easily through the
opening. I am not flesh, not anymore. I am extra dimensional.<br />
<br />
I scuttle into the darkness, the pointed tips of my slender legs gently
tapping against the wall as I ascend to the ceiling. The sound echoes through
three dimensional space, appearing more as a feeling than a sound.<br />
<br />
In life, I was Adrian Green. Serial stalker. Rapist. Killer. So say the
papers and the courts. I thought of myself as a watcher. An exterminator. I
observed humanity from an objective distance. Cleaned up the weak parts of
society. The stuff the rest of the world doesn't want to look at. Doesn't want
deal with. People of no consequence. Hookers. Junkies. Hopeless women. Useless
women.<br />
<br />
I got caught and I got fried.<br />
<br />
Or gassed, or poisoned. I don't know how they claim they killed me because
they didn't really kill me. <br />
They sold me.<br />
<br />
Some lab. Government run. Top secret.<br />
<br />
Whatever they thought was going to happen when they shot me up with that
vial of quantum goo... well. It didn't end well for them.<br />
<br />
Shit hurt like you wouldn't believe. My body melted into a puddle of snot.
But I didn't die.<br />
<br />
No. I was truly alive. Free to go anywhere. See anything, unobstructed for
the first time. With my new formless form, I could become anything I wanted.<br />
<br />
So I became a Psyder.<br />
<br />
I feed on fear.<br />
<br />
I live where it is most potent. Hospitals. War zones. Ghettos.<br />
<br />
I'm in a trailer park now. Miserable white trash, too poor to ever escape.
I'm bathed in despair. Swim in suffering.<br />
<br />
The broken fear me the most. They can see me. See the glow of my arachnid
eyes through quantum space. They taste the sweetest as I sink my psychic fangs
into their emotional centers. Suck their life energy. Drain their vitality.<br />
<br />
They're all terrified of the huge glowing spider in the dark.<br />
<br />
Except one.<br />
<br />
I've been watching her. Watching her sneak out the back of the trailer when
her aging parents are wrecked from drugs and drink.<br />
<br />
Watch as she does things to stray cats and squirrels . Watch the grin on her
face when they squirm and die. She keeps their carcasses in little hidden
drawers. That wicked smile is what I like the most about her. Why I watch her.<br />
<br />
Why I must eat her.<br />
<br />
She does not scare like the others. Doesn't feel how they feel. She's not
afraid of me.<br />
<br />
Not yet.<br />
<br />
I stop above her bed. My eight eyes glow crimson in the dark. She's there.
On the bed. I know she can see me.<br />
<br />
Her tits are out. Her hand is in between her legs working in and out of her
holes.<br />
<br />
My mandibles twitch with anticipation. My thorax throbs.<br />
<br />
She's mumbling.<br />
<br />
Chanting?<br />
<br />
There are books splayed across her bed. I lay a line of metaphysical thread
into the ceiling and descend, slowly, to get a better look.<br />
<br />
There are symbols in the books. Next to her nude, writhing form, a bowl
filled with... blood? A <br />
wound in her hand is wrapped with fresh bandages.<br />
<br />
I get closer. She's drawn the books' symbols onto her bed sheets.<br />
<br />
She cries out. Faster and faster she plunges fingers in and out, back and
forth, sweat running <br />
between her tits.<br />
<br />
I grow a human hand and a human cock from my volatile form. Begin to stroke
it in rhythm to her breathing.<br />
<br />
Just like old times.<br />
<br />
It's then that I notice a larger circle drawn in some sort of salt and
spices on the floor around her. <br />
She rolls off the bed and outside the circle. She's screaming words now.<br />
<br />
I feel strange. My full form comes into view. I become solid. I drop to the
bed and bare my fangs.<br />
<br />
She is not afraid.<br />
<br />
The window. She left it open on purpose.<br />
<br />
She throws the bowl at me. I am covered in her blood.<br />
<br />
It grows hot. Hotter by the second. I fling myself at her, all mouths and
claws, exaggerating my spider form.<br />
<br />
I slam into some invisible barrier. I cannot cross the salt. I rage against
the transparent wall.<br />
<br />
She smiles. “Got you, fucker.”<br />
<br />
The pain is great. My body feels like its burning. Searing. Melting.<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kevin Strange doesn't really jack off
to spiders. He writes books at KevinTheStrange.com, which is kind of like the
artistic equivalent of jacking off to spiders. Or not that at all, actually.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
DR.
WIDOW; LOVE MD</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
Discovered
by Leigham Shardlow</div>
<br />
Dr. Widow; Love MD <br />
Episode two: Romancing the Operating Theatre <br />
Scene 27 <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The scene opens on a sick man dying in
a hospital bed. </i><br />
<br />
Sick Man: My organs feel like they're liquidating. <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dr. Widow MD storms on screen. </i><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">*The Audience goes wild* </b><br />
<br />
Dr. Widow: I'm the Doctor here, I'll make the diagnosis if you don't mind,
Baby doll. <br />
<br />
Man: I'm dying. <br />
<br />
Dr. Widow: Nonsense I'm here now, you'll be fine in my skilled eight hands,
Cherry pie. <br />
<br />
Man: Eight what? <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nurse Tuger gracefully walks onto
set fixing her hair. </i><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">*The Audience Oohs and Ahhs* </b><br />
<br />
Nurse Tuger: Those stupid stylists didn't show up today. <br />
<br />
Dr. Widow: (whispering) Cameras are rolling, Bunny Snuggles. <br />
<br />
Nurse Tuger: Oh shit, I mean. Doctor Widow this man is in poor health, ever
since my vacation to volcano island I've seen nothing but sick people. I long
for a strong Doctor to save me from all the filth and death. <br />
<br />
Man: Death? <br />
<br />
Dr. Widow: I can't talk now sexy nurse person, this mans organs are about to
liquify, fetch me my<br />
equipment, Honey muffin. <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nurse Tuger Sits runs off camera and
returns a second later with a cart full of medical equipment and a screen that
periodically goes "boing" </i><br />
<br />
Dr. Widow: Sponge, Sexy momma. <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She hands the sponge. </i><br />
<br />
Dr. Widow: Medicinal alcohol, Kissy fur. <br />
<br />
She hands it over a large bottle with a skull and crossbones printed on it
and he drinks from it. <br />
<br />
Nurse Tuger: *Whispers* You can't drink that, you'll spoil your lunch. <br />
<br />
Dr. Widow: Dammit woman I don't have time for your mewling. Hand me the
straws, Beautiful dreamer.<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">She hands him the straws. </i><br />
<br />
Man: Straws? <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dr. Widow stabs the straws into the
mans neck and begins to suck on them. </i><br />
<br />
Sick Man: He's drinking my organs, someone stop him please. <br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">*The Audience starts screaming* </b><br />
<br />
Nurse Tuger: Oh yeah baby, suck him dry. <br />
<br />
Dr. Widow: Damn that shit's tight, Nipple Clamp Pussy Licker. <br />
<br />
<i>Nurse Tuger takes a straw and feeds with him. </i><br />
<br />
Sick Man: *Gurgles and then dies* <br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">*The sound of the Audience trying to
escape and their screams become louder* </b><br />
<br />
Dr. Widow: I love you Baby. <br />
<br />
Nurse Tuger: I love you too. <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Huge long hairy arms sprout from their
backs and they start making out. </i><br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A makeshift Molotov cocktail explodes
on set covering the kissing lovers in fire. </i><br />
<br />
Nurse Tuger: I burn but our children shall be free. <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The sick man's head explodes and
thousands of tiny spiders pour from within, they attack the audience. </i><br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">#Camera zooms in on Dr. Widow# </i><br />
<br />
Dr. Widow: *To Camera* Tune in next time for more chills, thrills and
romantic adventures with me Doctor Widow, Love MD. <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He collapses, smoke and flames still
rising from spider like body </i><br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cheesy music plays, house lights dim,
cut to black. </i><br />
<br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">#Sound of Audience screaming
eventually dies out and the crackling fire continues for hours# </b><br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Leigham has neither starred nor
directed any spider massacres for the small screen. If anyone says that he has
he'll sue them and drink their organs.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
8
EASY STEPS TO SELF LOVE</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
By
Jon James</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
“Are you awake?” I heard, not through normal ears, but all over my legs and
head and back. <br />
<br />
I tried opening my eyes, but they were already open. What I could see through
them was dim and blurry, little more than the sensation of light or darkness. I
felt a compulsion to the darkness. <br />
<br />
My mind was a whirlpool, overwhelmed by unfamiliar sensations and cravings,
but as I slowly accustomed to them, my memories began to float into the
forefront. <br />
<br />
I was 8bit, or at least that’s what I was known by in recent memories.
Whatever birth name I may have had was too atrophied to overcome the vortex.
There was something under there somewhere, something I instinctively swam away
from when it started to rise. <br />
<br />
I lifted a leg, long and slender. Then the rest in turn, all eight of them.
I moved my mouthparts around. I flexed my spinnerets. I felt…dangerous. That
caused me to remember. <br />
<br />
I had been raped. I was fat, and ugly, and I drank a lot at the bar and
basically begged men to take me home. But that night, I drank even more after
my best friend -- no, my ex-best friend, Betty, went home with this Aussie guy
I had been flirting with. I tried to walk home but I passed out in the doorway
of some boutique on the way. <br />
<br />
I remembered waking up to being moved. I remembered saying “No” as loudly as
I could through vomit encrusted lips. I remembered feeling ripped open as
multiple things entered me, through my mouth, through my vagina, through my
anus. I remembered skin and pain and shame until I passed out again. <br />
<br />
I climbed down off the surgery table gracefully, the doctor watching me. I
reached a leg out to him.<br />
<br />
He flinched momentarily. Seeing him afraid made me
feel good. <br />
<br />
I touched his cheek in gratitude, and headed out into the night, in the bad
part of town where his surgery center was able to go unnoticed among the drugs
and the crime. <br />
<br />
The morning after my rape, I had awakened to a cop nudging me. He told me to
get home before he ticketed me for indecency. <br />
<br />
I tried to tell him that I had been raped. He just looked at my naked body,
and the puke-covered dress<br />
<br />
I had used as a pillow and said he doubted that. <br />
<br />
I had pulled on the soiled dress and went home. I stopped leaving the house
at all. I never talked to Betty again. I ordered groceries delivered to my
door. I wrote shitty SEO articles to pay the internet bills. I spent the rest
of my time on the web, making friends who would never see my ugly body.<br />
<br />
Until
one of them told me about the procedure. <br />
<br />
I flexed my chelicerae, tapping my long fangs together. I could feel the
venom glands swelling in anticipation. That was all behind me now. I was a
totally different kind of girl now. <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jon James dwells in Lansing, Michigan,
where he hopes to one day write something his mom can read. Today is not that
day. Better luck next time, mom. For more of his weird shit, check out his
podcast at wewriteweirdshit.com</i><br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
AI
APAEC</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
by
Samuel L.F.</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Ai's eight-legged form towered over his worshipers. To them, his massive
arachnid body was that of a god. He stood coated in blood from a battle with a
neighboring tribe. His small army of men celebrated. They'd captured one
prisoner, slung over the spider's back; the rest were dead. <br />
<br />
Ai dropped the man to the ground, whose hands were bound with silver thread.
He lifted one sleek, black leg and brushed it against the man's thigh. They had
different cultures and languages, but Ai could communicate in a different
way—the oldest they had. <br />
<br />
He made slow love with the human. Put each of his prisoner's limbs to full
use before tearing it from his body. With his set of fangs he marked the man's
flesh, claimed it as his own. Once he finished he skinned him. <br />
<br />
By sunrise the affair was over. The people feasted, crying Ai repeatedly as
they laid their meal's bones to rest. <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Samuel L.F. is a horror writer from
Forestburgh, NY. His short story appeared in the July 2015 issue of the Blood
Moon Rising Magazine.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
CUPID'S
WEB</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
by
Lee A. Forman</div>
<div align="center" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Thin strands of silvery white envelop me in silky embrace. My body wrapped,
hung, and waiting… <br />
<br />
She creeps from above, eight legs clawing their way down the web. My abdomen
tingles, knowing<br />
<br />
I’ll soon be liquefied and sucked inside. How wonderful a
thought to be within my sweetheart. <br />
<br />
Her venomous bite like a sweet first kiss, I longed for it since the moment
I was stuck in the world she created. <br />
<br />
Just a common moth, what love was there for me but in her body? I could
sustain her, keep her alive, be her delicious salvation from hunger. What
better way to serve such a dear creature? <br />
<br />
She comes ever closer. My wings try to flutter in excitement. <br />
<br />
Her fangs inject me with digestive enzymes. All fades as my insides liquefy
and she begins to drink. <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lee Forman is a fiction writer from
the Hudson Valley, NY. For more information go to www.leeformanfiction.com</i><br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12311442612134010445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-47871583284113406872016-07-18T09:10:00.002-07:002016-08-08T08:06:39.830-07:00Spider Romance Microfiction Week Two!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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by Betty Rocksteady</div>
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Welcome to week two of my spider romance microfiction extravaganza!! I'm the author of this year's NBAS title <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Arachnophile-Betty-Rocksteady-ebook/dp/B0172MQ4RQ">Arachnophile, </a>which tells a surreal and horrific tale between the love of man and spider. Inspired by that, I have been inviting people to submit their own spider romance tales!</div>
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Guys, you made my job super hard this week. These stories are all fantastic and I'm so excited to share them with everyone. And if after you read them you're inspired, you're in luck, because there are TWO MORE WEEKS of spider weirdness coming at you. <a href="http://nbas2015.blogspot.ca/2016/07/spider-romance-microfiction-contest.html">The (real easy) rules are here, </a>and I'd love to get more tales from authors who have already been playing too! </div>
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So this week, Kevin Strange battled you all out for first place and he gets an ebook of the NBAS title of his choice. His story PREGNANT happened to hit on a couple of my fave things - weirdo pregnancy and the horrific and bizarre. <a href="http://nbas2015.blogspot.ca/2016/07/spider-romance-microfiction-week-one.html">Last week's winner STARTING OUT </a>was a straight up romance, so this is a cool change of pace. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
What else have I got for ya? Well, there's ten stories altogether here and there's something for every taste, from Tiffany Morris' coming of age story, to Leigham Shardlow's hilarious sea spider story, to Goathead Buckley's.... I'm not even quite sure what that is to be honest, but its great. I think you'll like them all. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Here they are in the order I received them! Which one is your fave?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
THE RED WIDOW'S KISS</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
by Sam Richard</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can’t help but watch her undress. Each night, after a few
glasses of wine or a couple of beers – depending on if she’s depressed or
lonely or upbeat or merely coping with the weight of the day – she wanders to
our bedroom to sink into the velvet black of sleep. Anticipating her tiredness,
I try to make my way towards the bed a bit before her, so I can find the
perfect viewing platform; the headboard has been a favorite lately. Unless
she’s in a mood and drinks the whole bottle of wine, or he is here, she drips
of elegance and sensuality as she unbuttons her form-fitting blouse. Though
watching her incredible ass escape the confines of their denim prison is ever
my favorite. Not sure if she swings my way, but tonight is special, not long
after the bra is snapped off, I will make my move.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve not always had this confidence. Before my love moved
in, I was living alone with the piece of shit. For one, he never cleaned. He
also spent all day sitting on his couch, alternating between sleep, jerking off,
and watching mind-numbing daytime television; and he barely showered. I had
tried my best to make it work, as one is forced to when sharing space with
someone else. But he grossed me out, made me angry, and I’m just not into men,
so there was no fringe benefit of the situation. But she appeared and changed
everything, despite my trepidation.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think I was still rebounding from my previous lover, as
well, who was a nerdy brunette who created a library out of the living room.
Her smells were divine and her aura calming and radiant, I couldn’t help but
fall for her. I was just getting my ritual in place – I was still quite a young
lady in those days – but the night finally came where it felt right.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We had played our game of cat and mouse, our back and forth
of eyes, legs, shoes, and books. Our lust came to a crescendo, and I knew I
couldn’t hold back any longer. I lay waiting in her bed, near her feet, hoping
to build our passion with teasing touches upon her feet and legs. She crawled
into bed and we played our game. I teased and prodded and caressed and bit, and
we passed out, wrapped in a web of satisfaction. But two days later, the men
came and took her, they tore her cold skin from me, from our place of passion.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Admittedly, I was still a bit heartbroken after that loss,
not sure if I was completely ready to move forward with my new love. But then
she beckoned me forth from my tower, lording over me with the presence of a
Goddess; I couldn’t help but stare at her wonderful breasts, pleading them to come
closer. From nowhere, rippling, white fabric obscured my view and soon I
succumbed to the dark, awash in a swirling sea.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey Tom, I got that huge fucking spider!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Sam Richard is the co-editor of Blood for You: A Lit Tribute
to GG Allin and Hybrid Moments: A Lit Tribute to The Misfits, and has written
for various publications including: Splatterpunk Zine, Profane Existence,
CvltNation, and The Pulse. He is currently, and slowly, working on several
transgressive and vile projects that will eventually see the light of day, and
is personally available on a plethora of social media platforms.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A LETTER</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
from Goathead Buckley</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear Betty Rocksteady,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cannot say how
perturbed I am that you have chosen to host a contest concerned with an ailment
that has afflicted me since I ran hallucinogenic mold with the Black Saucermen
to the refugees of New Martian Jesus City during the '23 rebellion. I write
ailment in error, for what I suffer from is more of an infatuation with a
certain area of my mind to the detriment of the others. You see, I was caught
thrice-crosswise betwixt a powerful mind control ray, an orgone grenade, and a
poisoned dart. A dart poisoned, in fact, with the venom of a large, pyramid
dwelling arachnid named Mrrphuk.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am on Earth once
again, as you may suspect, but this fact of physical location means nothing. I
cannot sleep lest I see Mrrphuk crawl from the sideways spaces in my dreams,
dripping with a thick ichor. Whether or not this liquid is her sexual
perspiration or the very venom that causes my dreams I do try every night to
discern. Alas, I am unable in these dreams to manifest the will to reach out my
hand or, dare I say, my tongue to touch and taste the excretion of my
thousand-eyed darling. I yearn until my cock grows claws to rip itself free of
my dream-form and crawl forward, throbbing and bleeding upon the ground like a
bisected, willful laboratory worm.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I apologize for the
gruesome image. I wish it were only in dreams that visions such as these came
spilling from my brain. Lately, however, I cannot greet the sun without a
hundred species of arachnids leaving carefully wrapped prizes at my feet.
Mostly they leave candy hearts with phrases such as: “I Luv You”, “Be Mine”,
and “Come Back to Mars and Fuck My 8 Legs Off”. The call resounds deeper
everyday in my soul.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have begun to
assemble a ship capable of transporting me back to Mars. I cannot tell you the
details of this ship because I build it mainly in dreams and the physics are
those of the mad. I can tell you this, however: when I enter that doorway
shaped as a neon spider pussy and take control of the Orgone Exchange
Modulator, you will not have to call the air force with panic in your voice to
report strange lights in the sky. They will already know. Everyone will know
and that is why I have built the ship to last only one single voyage. I will
not return to Earth. I will not be ostracized for my wicked ways. I will not
die a spider-fucking weirdo. I will die when Mrrphuk is inseminated with my
seed and she tenderly releases my head from my body in order to feed them that
will be my legacy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sincerely,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Goathead Buckley</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Goathead Buckley maintains www.apokraliptihkal.com, a book
habit, and his glee at the rising of the oppressor sun from the shores of the
mighty Scum.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
HER BRIGHT EYES</div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
by Tiffany Morris</div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I closed my locker and tried
not to stare as she skittered gracefully down the hallway. It had been eight
days since our (admittedly, kind of awkward) kiss outside of Jeff's party. One
day for each of Arachnara's eight bright, shining eyes that ignored me as she
passed me on the way to Calculus. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hey, there's gonna be a party
tonight,” Jeff said as he approached. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Nice! Where?” </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Carson's.” </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Do you think Arachnara will
go?” </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Jeff rolled his eyes.
“Probably.” </div>
<br />
“Awesome,” I said. “That's perfect.” Jeff opened his mouth to say something,
then closed it. <br />
<br />
“I'm late,” I told him. “See you at lunch.” The walk to Chemistry was a
blur. Tonight would be the night. <br />
<br />
I walked to Carson's, my heart thrumming in nervous anticipation. As I
passed the endless identical houses of my neighbourhood porch lights buzzed and
sprinklers loosened water across lush green grass. When I rang the doorbell, a
spider I didn't recognize answered, drunk and unsteady on his legs. <br />
<br />
“Hey,” I said. “Is Carson around?” The spider nodded and opened the door
wider. I followed him inside. I scanned the room for Arachnara, but didn't see
her. Human and spider bodies milled together, their laughter and shouts like
waves cresting over the pounding music. I pushed through the crowd, past the
line at the beer keg. I spotted a cluster of her friends, spiders preening
above their compact mirrors. “Have you seen Arachnara?” They ignored me. I
didn't move. Finally, her best friend, Charantara, gestured vaguely at the
patio door. <br />
<br />
I opened it with a soft whoosh. Aranchnara was out there, her body awash in
the yellow glow of the patio lanterns. Her back was to me, her voice angry and
low. I stood back. One of her legs pulled back and slapped Carson. She hissed
and ran down the steps. I started to follow. Jeff grabbed my arm.<br />
<br />
“Don't get
involved.” I stared at him. “Oh, c'mon, Brady, you know how it is with those
spider chicks.” <br />
<br />
“No, Jeff,” I said. I fixed him with a steely gaze. “I don't. I guess I
don't see the world that way.” <br />
I shoved him off of me and ran out into the street. “Arachnara!” I shouted. She
kept walking. I followed her. <br />
<br />
The black asphalt driveways and sighing sycamores guided my way through the
growing night. She darted into into the small thicket of trees at the end of
the lane, where she sat on a tree stump, her giant abdomen heaving in sobs. I
caught up to her. She didn't look up. <br />
<br />
“Look, I know you might not want to hear this right now, but that kiss last
week...that meant something. Didn't it?” She pulled her head up and looked at
me, her eyes as deep and dark as the sky.<br />
<br />
What felt like an eternity of silence
passed between us. Finally, she nodded, then put her hand in mine. <br />
<br />
She led me over to a stack of white, gauzy orbs. I didn't know what waited
for us in those writhing silken orbs. But for once, the dark of suburbia felt like
the future. <br />
<br />
<i>Tiffany Morris is a horror writer from Nova Scotia. She has never written
romance before and probably never will again. Find her at
http://tiffmorris.com.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
THAT THING YOU DO</div>
<div style="margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center;">
by Eirik Gumeny</div>
<div style="margin-top: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
“And do you, Ryan, take ...” The priest cocked an eyebrow at the groom,
before snapping his bible shut. “Is there something wrong?”<br />
<br />
“What?” The young man shook his head. “Sorry. It’s just …”<br />
<br />
“What, Ryan?” asked Erin, the bride, clutching his hands nervously.<br />
<br />
“Just … Why are there so many spiders in here?” He looked toward the teeming
mass of arachnids crawling over the entire right half of the church. He
pointed. “There is a giant tarantula sitting on your grandmother’s shoulder.”<br />
<br />
“Him?” asked Grandma Ethel, tickling the tarantula beneath his chelicerae.
“This’s Cousin Fred. He don’t see so well, so I let ‘im sit up here.”<br />
<br />
“Cousin?” asked Ryan.<br />
<br />
“I’m half-spider, honey,” explained Erin, furrowing her brow. “On my
father’s side. I told you that.”<br />
<br />
“I thought you meant, like, astrologically.”<br />
<br />
“No, sweetie. Daddy was a wolf spider.”<br />
<br />
“It’s true,” added Bev, Erin’s mother, from the front row. “I was out
camping one night, had a little too much to drink, a lot too much peyote, and
this very attractive spider started crawling up next to me. I started singing
songs to him, and, well, nine months later there Erin was.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t think that’s how –” began Ryan.<br />
<br />
“She’s one in a million, that one,” lilted the mother.<br />
<br />
“Well, yeah, but … I don’t understand …”<br />
<br />
“He crawled into my vagina, honey,” explained Bev, matter-of-factly. “That’s
what I’m trying to say.” She turned to the nest of black widows swarming beside
her. “Was I not clear?”<br />
<br />
“Shouldn’t you have told me?” asked Ryan, turning back to Erin.<br />
<br />
“I did tell you,” she said, stunned. “Plus, I mean, the webs all over the
apartment …”<br />
<br />
“I thought you were a really prolific knitter.”<br />
<br />
“Well, what about that thing you like …”<br />
<br />
“What? What thing?” he asked.<br />
<br />
“When I pin your wrists against the bed and then I you know while still also
playing with your you know …”<br />
<br />
“Oh. Oh!”<br />
<br />
“That’s how I landed Luke too!” shouted Miranda, Erin’s sister. The church
crowd erupted in hoots of laughter.<br />
<br />
“I guess I never gave it much thought,” said Ryan. Then, whispering, “How,
uh, how do you do that?”<br />
<br />
Erin opened her mouth Predator-style, her skin sliding backward off her head
and revealing eight eyes, a set of glistening fangs and two large, fuzzy palpi.<br />
<br />
“Oh damn.” Then: “Are there any other spidery things I should know about?”<br />
<br />
“Really just the shooting webs out of my tush. And I can store your sperm in
my insides until we’re ready to have kids.”<br />
<br />
“I can live with that,” he said, quietly adding, “as long as you keep doing
that thing.”<br />
Erin’s skin slid back over her head, blushing brightly.<br />
<br />
“I think we just wrote our own vows,” she giggled.<br />
<br />
“No. You didn’t,” the priest said gravely. “This is a Catholic church. Your
vows were written two thousand years ago.” He opened the Bible again. “Now, if
you’re ready, let’s get this over with. There’s a funeral at three.”<br />
<br />
<i>Eirik Gumeny was a boxing kangaroo who died, tragically and violently, in
the ring in 1923, fighting Teddy Roosevelt and a time-traveling Muhammad Ali.
Internet him at www.egumeny.com or tweeter him at @egumeny.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
ARANEAE EX AMORE VINDICTAE </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
by Devin Anderson </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rigoberto the recluse waited patiently for the giantess to
pass him by. He fantasized about sinking his fangs into pudgy kankle meat,
filling flesh with his necrotizing poison. Anger demanded retaliation for the
destruction of his mate, and their sack of spiderlings. His entire brood
slaughtered in one foul spray of bottled arachnid-death. Fury seethed behind
his many eyes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However instinct was a fickle mistress, and his need for
survival outweighed any dreams of revenge. His chitinous loins burned for
another mate, another chance at procreation. Every fiber of his tiny body
yearned for the shivering release that fertilizing bulging sacks of freshly
laid eggs would bring. Rigo was one horny little spider.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He scoured the exterior of the giantess’ abode, first
looking for another recluse, then lowering his standards to other less
attractive spiders. He crawled, climbed and delved, but he couldn't find one
suitable mate. It was maddening, to think that the giantess had wrought such a
genocidal holy war against spider kind, and left him to die alone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Perhaps inside the giantess’ stone nest there were other
survivors such as him, alone and afraid, and more importantly, desperate for
copulation. Beggars can't be choosers, after all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rigo entered through an open window, hugging the shadows
within until he was safely hidden beneath the hulking plateau where the
giantess slept. He searched the bedroom, then ventured out into the labyrinth
of the gargantuan home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The home was infested with a plethora of insects, all of
whom insisted that arachnids had been obliterated long ago. Rigo sampled a few
of the more delicious looking prey, slurping as he interrogated their kin. They
seemed unperturbed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He returned to the sleeping giantess’ chamber. Thunderous
snoring grated upon his spider soul, that she could slumber so soundly when his
very existence dangled from a broken web, awoke a lustful rage within him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Silently Rigo crept up onto the bed, pausing in caution as
the giantess choked on sleep apnea.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“¡Espero que el estrangulador a la muerte en su saliva
maloliente, Puta!” He hissed, traversing the valley of her legs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The foreboding cave at the valley's end belched forth
noxious gasses, a grim warning to any foolish enough to dare traverse its
putrescence. Rigo entered without hesitation.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Deep within the slimy depths he found it, an egg delicately
attached to the bloody uterine walls of his new horrific home. Procreation was
inevitable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>D.M. Anderson hides inside his hermitage, leaving
occasionally to scavenge for food and toiletries. When he isn’t setting a bad
example for his kids, he’s mercilessly beating his head against the keyboard,
hoping something interesting spills out onto the screen.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
SARAH AND THE CLICKER</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
by Stuart Conover</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sarah hated herself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What was the point in being the perfect genetically
engineered species of spider if you were yesterday’s news? Of course, not
everything was perfect. The increased brain size meant emotions which had been
unheard of in arachnids.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ever since Doctor Markus was able to get his hands on the
100 Clicker eggs they were all he cared about.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sarah’s father had abandoned her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She would show him. One of the Clickers were going through
the same experiment that had made her and since she had access to that lab…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, accident happen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Entering was easy. Doing so in a way that cameras wouldn’t
detect her wasn’t. However, even at 3 feet long being able to walk on ceilings
helped.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Entering the room, Sarah rubbed her pedipalps together in
anticipation. All she wanted was to drain the beast dry. The thought of alien
blood sounded exotic.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her fangs salivated at the thought.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She crept into the dimly illuminated room. Her eyes had no
problem adapting to darkness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unsure where the Clicker was, she slowly worked her way
around the ceiling. Looking for her query, she heard it first.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The hairs on her legs picked up the vibrations and she
understood why they were called Clickers. Clicking was the only way Sarah could
even begin to describe how the sound.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dropping down, Sarah was at the cage with her prey.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The glass protection was tinted, not allowing her eyes to
see in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course they would lock it up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just as Sarah had been after her own birth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The beast would be out of its misery soon enough.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sarah opened the door and slid through. Before the Clicker a
shiver ran through her exoskeleton as she inhaled.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Its smell was… intoxicating.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shaking, Sarah knew something was wrong. She had to
eliminate this threat…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This temptation.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The obsidian armor gleamed even in the low light. Each move
was graceful yet with purpose as it came to her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Can you understand me?” she asked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No response.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It just drew closer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Do you know that I’ve come to end you?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Her legs flexed as she readied herself for action as The Clicker stopped. <br />
<br />
Staring at it this close she grew lightheaded. <br />
<br />
A work of art. <br />
<br />
She had to end it, feast on its blood. <br />
<br />
To have it. <br />
<br />
She pounced and it spun, catching her in midair and throwing her to the
ground. <br />
<br />
She felt it pressing against her. Suddenly aware that it was actually a him.
<br />
<br />
Fangs out she pierced the neck as the Clicker pierced her. <br />
<br />
Each tightening their hold, legs entwined crushing one another’s thorax’s,
crying out in pleasure and in pain. <br />
<br />
Each thrust of The Clicker matching her own bringing rolling waves of lust
which only increased the tempo of their attacks. <br />
<br />
Until neither had the energy or life left to move. <br />
<br />
The Clicker lay on her. <br />
<br />
Dead. <br />
<br />
Emptied. <br />
<br />
Her view faded. <br />
<br />
She had been so sure that women were the only ones who ate their mates. <br />
<br />
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<![endif]--><i> </i><br />
<i>Stuart Conover is a father, husband, rescue dog owner, horror author, blogger,
journalist, horror enthusiast, comic book geek, science fiction junkie, and IT
professional from the Chicagoland Area whose work you can find over at
http://www.StuartConover.com. With all of that to cram in on a daily basis, it
is highly debatable that he ever is able to sleep and rumors have him attached
to an IV drip of caffeine to get through most days.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
SPINGADINGAWINGADO</div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
by Ian Willingham </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
David flinched. He’d held the arachnid in front of his face and two of its
thick black legs had jutted out, stopping just short of his eye balls, causing
him to throw his head back reflexively. Fortunately he didn’t drop the thing,
or clench a fist, else it may have suffered, he thought, hardy as it appeared.
It was a big old thing, nearly completely covering the palm of his hand with a
meaty, neatly rounded torso, shaped like a miniature rugby ball. Its yellow
eyes were the colour of ripe lemons. David thought he saw it blink - or maybe
wink - moments before it slipped quickly through his fingers, dived on a fresh
spider thread down, down, down, moving effortlessly down past his abdomen,
through the top of his trousers and settling quickly in his underpants. For the
briefest moment, the wriggling stopped. David held his breath. Moments later,
the creature’s teeth engaged and David let out a cry of pure unadulterated joy.
<br />
<br />
He’d waited this long for Sophie to join him after the party. A workaholic,
she was busy entertaining clients, as per usual. They fantasised about sharing
this moment together, but he’d become impatient and also worried for the
creature’s wellbeing. It had arrived from China in a simple cardboard box, the
opening sellotaped several times over, presumably in a bid to prevent what was
inside from escaping. It had spent seven days in transit. As David cut the tape
with a pair of kitchen scissors, he felt sure the poor thing might be dead, but
had been surprised to find it alive and well and already wearing the lingerie
add-on he’d ordered, which no sooner had he caught sight of, than he tore off
in a frenzy, tossing it to the bedroom floor, his excitement growing to almost
uncontrollable levels. <br />
<br />
Now with the thing in his pants, David was at fever pitch. He steadied
himself against the wardrobe mirror and took in his full arousal in its
reflection. The spider was working its magic, nibbling and caressing, running
and weaving. It was just as he’d hoped it would be; pleasure on a level he
could never experience with another human being. It was delicate, it was precise.
At times it felt like nothing more than tiny pin pricks, but it was more the
thought than anything that drove David towards the brink. <br />
<br />
He must have been mere milliseconds away from climax when Sophie stepped
into the room, killing his arousal. Without acknowledging him, she moved
straight for the bed and began to search for something underneath. <br />
<br />
He turned from the mirror, ready to explain his charged state, but instead
found himself fixated on the bed. Sophie lay flat on her back across it, a
cardboard box torn open beside her. David watched as about a hundred arachnids
poured out onto her belly and quickly moved to between her legs. <br />
<br />
“So,” she began, her voice its usual steady monotone, “I notice you’ve
finally seen the light.” <br />
<br />
<i>Ian is a 30 something from England and writes for pleasure as well as for
pain. His main interest is in playwrighting and he has in the past produced a
couple of his own plays for a local theatre company.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Occasionally he dabbles in surreal
micro-fiction.</i><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
PREGNANT</div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
by Kevin Strange </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
“You say you're... pregnant, boy?”<br />
<br />
The officer scratched at his pockmarked chin as he looked at the kid. <br />
<br />
“Yes, sir.” <br />
<br />
The officer sat back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. <br />
<br />
“You come up here in my station with scratches all over your body, covered
in cob webs and a big fat belly, hollering 'lock me up! It's almost time!
They're coming!' and you expect me to believe you've got babies all up inside
you?” <br />
<br />
“Yes, sir.” <br />
<br />
“And how'd they get there?” <br />
<br />
“You wouldn't believe me.” <br />
<br />
The officer clenched his jaw. “Boy, you socked one of my deputies in the
mouth then swiped a pistol off another, threatening the whole damn lot of us if
we didn't put you in a cell. We would'a been well within our rights to put a
bullet right square 'tween your eyes for what you come in here and done. Now
you tell me, what're you on got you so worked into a tissy you think you
somehow got yourself knocked up?” <br />
<br />
“You really wanna know?” <br />
<br />
The officer let the legs of his chair slam onto the ground. “Don't you fuck
with me, kid. I'll put you in a box with so many big dick, horny, low life
degenerates you'll wish I'd put one in your skull time they're through with
you!” <br />
<br />
“I fucked a spider.” <br />
<br />
“What the fuck did you say to me?” <br />
<br />
“A big one.” <br />
<br />
The officer stared ahead, not saying a word. <br />
<br />
The kid continued. “Remember that toxic waste spill last year? Sludge must have got down deep
in the Earth. I like to hike the caves on the west side. The dark, cool space
calms me down when daddy's on one of his benders and momma's on the dope again.
<br />
<br />
So I'm down there last night, having myself a wank in the dark—best place to
do it, in my opinion—and all of a sudden I feel a warm, thick, heaviness slide
over my cock and balls. <br />
<br />
I let it move up and down my shaft for a bit, wondering if some gal had
followed me down.<br />
<br />
Eventually, I busted my nut way up inside the heaviness.
That's when curiosity got the best of me and I flicked my lighter, dick still
way up in there, squishing around in my own juices. <br />
<br />
I guess the toxic waste did something to the plants and animals in the caves
cause what I had my dick buried in was the ass end of a spider big as my car!” <br />
<br />
The officer stared at the beat up kid, grinding his teeth, tapping his
fingers against the table. His patience was running out. <br />
<br />
“After I screamed and yanked my dick outta the spider's ass, I tried to make
a run for it but I wasn't getting anywhere. Thing was quick as shit, had me up
in her claws, spinning me into a web lickity split. Figured I was donzoes at
that point. Especially when it turned around and stuck its huge ass into my
stomach! That felt like a hot knife cutting into me! I know what them spiders
do to their prey. I watch discovery channel. They inject poison into their prey
and liquify their insides. Suck up their innards like soup. Well, that didn't
happen to me. <br />
<br />
I wake up this morning with this feeling inside my head. Not like a voice.
Just a feeling. Telling me to walk back to town. Walk to where there's a whole
lotta people.” <br />
<br />
The officer stood up and dropped his fists on the table with a loud THUNK. “You should'a went down to the pub you wanna tell stories. Lots'a dumb asses
down there'll
<br />
believe any kind of story you feed em. Coming to my station spoutin' some
bullshit story?You bored or something? Lonely?” <br />
<br />
“No, officer.” The kid's face contorted with pain. His T-shirt began to roil
as something beneath moved around. “I came here cause my babies's gonna need
food when they hatch.” <br />
<br />
<i>Kevin Strange doesn't really jack off to spiders. He writes books at
KevinTheStrange.com, which is kind of like the artistic equivalent of jacking
off to spiders. Or not that at all, actually.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
ROOFIED BY AN ACTUAL SEASPIDER</div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
by Leigham Shardlow </div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I had snuck into the Laboratory as silent as an assassin, ball peen hammer
in hand. It's head still smeared with brown blood from a mouse I had caught
sometime ago. <br />
<br />
The Tank which housed the gilled Spider had been covered with a sheet and I
slowly moved it aside to see my victim. Intending to wake it from slumber and
see it's tears as I threatened each leg with a good squashing before killing it
swiftly. I was stopped from doing so by the astonishing visage of the spider
floating in the center of the tank delicately putting on a little pink
negligee. <br />
<br />
Like a reverse striptease, it put on it's stockings softly one leg at a
time. Panties covered it's abdomen tightly, showing off it's curves. Awestruck
I dropped the hammer something about the way it caressed itself made my stomach
leap. I had not felt this way before, not even when I shaved Mother dearest's
nipples for her. <br />
<br />
The Spider looked into my prying eyes, it didn't stop or act shocked in fact
it winked sultry at me with four of it's eight eyes. <br />
<br />
As it lit a cigarette and blew smoke bubbles my trousers grew tighter. I
tore the curtain off before leaping in. <br />
<br />
Ripping my clothes off I grabbed the spider and kissed it. It resisted at
first then i felt it relax before it pushed a pill into my mouth. I swallowed in
surprise. It's gills vibrated with excitement as the Spider pulled me onto my
knees plunging my head underwater. <br />
<br />
I swallowed a mouthful of water but I didn't care about drowning I was
filled with an comfortable numbness almost immediately. The Spier awkwardly
swam into my trousers and then I felt it's huge erection against my bottom as
it tried to enter me. <br />
<br />
My hole seemed to tear as it penetrated me with it's strangely shaped love
pump. Each thrust should have been more painful but either I was drowning or
the pill and numbed me completely as I felt next to nothing but bliss. Finally
the spider gushed it's web in me, left my trousers and with a small push it
threw me from the tank. <br />
<br />
I lay on the floor of the laboratory blood and sticky web leaking from me as
the Spider made a phone call. <br />
<br />
I blacked out awakening in the back of a van, several tarantulas were taking
there turns violating me as the Sea Spider had done so. <br />
<br />
Two days later I awoke in a hospital bed, my hole stitched almost closed.
The Doctors said I was found naked in the woods. Mother dearest didn't come to
see me but the Sea spider did. <br />
<br />
It looked sad and remorseful as a scientist wheeled in the tank. I pressed
my face against the glass and whispered "You didn't need to force me, I
wanted to anyway" <br />
<br />
The Sea Spider cried and after a brief talk I got it's phone number. I had
never been so happy. <br />
<br />
<i>Leigham hopes his parents don't read this story, as he's supposed to have
been dead for years and doesn't want to upset them any further.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
MARTHA</div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
by Lee A. Forman </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
Gregory glanced up from his cards and spied the faces of those around him.
Everyone wore a stone expression, each face unreadable. The pot already
contained three hundred dollars. He held an ace and a king, not a bad hand to
start. <br />
<br />
“Greg!” His wife’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “How’s it going out
there?” <br />
<br />
“Just fine, dear. We’ll be done soon.” <br />
<br />
Harold dropped the turn card. Greg struggled to keep a straight face. A
three didn’t help. <br />
He sensed the tension in their air, the carved rock faces of his competitors
about to crumble. But they held their shape. <br />
<br />
Greg placed a bet of five-hundred. <br />
<br />
Ben looked to his competitors. “I’m out, guys.” <br />
<br />
Charlie saw Greg’s bet but didn’t raise. <br />
<br />
Harold looked back and forth between Charlie and Greg, sweat dripping down
his cheeks in spite of the air conditioning. “That’s it, I’m out too.” He then
put down the river card. <br />
<br />
Greg nearly jumped from his seat when he saw the king, but managed to stay
calm. He bet a grand. <br />
<br />
“You’re fucking with me,” Charlie said. <br />
<br />
Greg gave no reply. <br />
<br />
“Fine, you bastard. Let’s have a go. I’ll see your thousand. And I’ll raise
you…” He spread his money out on the table, then slid the cash into a pile and
tossed it into the pot. “A thousand.” <br />
<br />
Greg struggled with his decision. What to do? He saw the bet and dropped
another grand onto the pile. <br />
<br />
“Alright, what do you got?” Charlie asked after throwing down his pair of
queens. <br />
<br />
Greg flipped his ace. <br />
<br />
“That ain’t shit,” Charlie said. <br />
<br />
Greg put down his king. <br />
<br />
“Son of a bitch!” Charlie slammed his fist on the table. <br />
<br />
Greg wrapped his arms around the pot and pulled it to his chest. “Sorry
guys!” <br />
<br />
“You’re not sorry, you shit!” Charlie removed his hat and crumpled it in his
hands. <br />
<br />
“You boys okay in there?” Greg’s wife asked from the kitchen. <br />
<br />
“Yes, love!” Greg answered. “I cleaned ‘em out tonight!” <br />
<br />
“Oh, good for you, dear!” She replied. “Can I come out now?” <br />
<br />
“Yes, Martha. The game’s over. They’re all yours.” <br />
<br />
The kitchen door swung open and a hairy, black appendage emerged. <br />
<br />
“What the fuck is that?” Charlie screamed. <br />
<br />
Everyone stood from the table and tried to run for the exit. Greg sat and
watched. <br />
<br />
Ben made it to the door first, opened it and ran into an enormous silk web.
He tried to break free but only managed to entangle himself further. <br />
<br />
Greg smiled at his wife who came over and wrapped two of her enormous front
legs around him. Her mandibles rubbed against the side of his face. <br />
<br />
“It turns me on so much when you win,” she said. <br />
<br />
He rubbed her palps. “Then I’m glad I won.” <br />
<br />
She released her husband and wrapped Charlie and Harold in silk. <br />
<br />
“I’ll save them for later. Let’s go to the bedroom.” <br />
<br />
<i>Lee Forman is a horror writer from the Hudson Valley, NY. For more
information go to <a href="http://www.leeformanauthor.com./" target="_blank"><span style="color: #196ad4;">www.leeformanauthor.com.</span></a></i><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12311442612134010445noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-40615365020028507422016-07-11T08:59:00.004-07:002016-08-08T08:05:53.608-07:00Spider Romance Microfiction Week One!<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by Betty Rocksteady</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hi! I'm so excited to share these stories with you guys! </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm the author of this year's NBAS book <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Arachnophile-Betty-Rocksteady-ebook/dp/B0172MQ4RQ">Arachno<span style="font-family: inherit;">phile.<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></a> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's been getting great reviews! It's a surreal <span style="font-family: inherit;">and grotesque story <span style="font-family: inherit;">about what happens when a<span style="font-family: inherit;"> giant spider moves in next door to an arachnophobic man, and he discovers his fear cov<span style="font-family: inherit;">ers up something... a bit different. Inspired by th<span style="font-family: inherit;">at, I concocted this challenge of spider romance microfiction<span style="font-family: inherit;">!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There's still time to play! I'm running this call for three mo<span style="font-family: inherit;">re weeks. E<span style="font-family: inherit;">ach week I'm collecting all the entires in a</span>n awesome post of fiction like this one, plus <span style="font-family: inherit;">my favorite o<span style="font-family: inherit;">f the week gets a<span style="font-family: inherit;">n e<span style="font-family: inherit;">book copy of the NBAS title of their choice! Get all the details <a href="http://nbas2015.blogspot.ca/2016/07/spider-romance-microfiction-contest.html">right here</a>. <span style="font-family: inherit;">Sen<span style="font-family: inherit;">d me spider romance of any genre! <span style="font-family: inherit;">I double dare you to shock me, titilate me, horrify me, amuse me, whatever! </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This week we have romance (of course), horror, <span style="font-family: inherit;">a little sci-fi<span style="font-family: inherit;">, <span style="font-family: inherit;">dark fa<span style="font-family: inherit;">iry tales, a little of <span style="font-family: inherit;">of everything for every taste.<span style="font-family: inherit;"> I had a super hard time pick<span style="font-family: inherit;">ing the winner! I decided o<span style="font-family: inherit;">n Lucha's De Leche's STARTING OUT because it really su<span style="font-family: inherit;">rprised me <span style="font-family: inherit;">by telling a complete, emotional, and <span style="font-family: inherit;">roma<span style="font-family: inherit;">ntic tale in beautiful langua<span style="font-family: inherit;">ge. <span style="font-family: inherit;">I'll contact you by email and you can let me know which book you choose! :)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ho<span style="font-family: inherit;">norable mentions go to <span style="font-family: inherit;">Kevin <span style="font-family: inherit;">Strange's <span style="font-family: inherit;">biz<span style="font-family: inherit;">arro genius</span></span>, Justin Burnett's <span style="font-family: inherit;">DMT<span style="font-family: inherit;">-inspired madness, and M<span style="font-family: inherit;">a</span>tt Ne<span style="font-family: inherit;">putin's dark fairy tale. But guys, I <span style="font-family: inherit;">loved them all. I really d<span style="font-family: inherit;">id. Send me more!!!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Here's all the stories in<span style="font-family: inherit;"> the order I <span style="font-family: inherit;">reci<span style="font-family: inherit;">eved them. Which one was your fa<span style="font-family: inherit;">vorite?</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> <br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">ARACHNOBRAIN</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by Neil Dinsmore </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
watched as my brain fell out and landed with a sloppy splat upon the
floor. I felt numb as a large spider slowly crawled over and had sex
with it. I didn't know spiders could have sex with human brains. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The spider must have spilled its seed because it's run off again. My
brain looks exhausted. Should I feel violated? I mean, since it fell
out, I guess it's no longer part of me. There's not much I can do now
anyway, besides look at the violated thing. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The image of my
soggy brain lying on the tile floor remains with me for several months.
The guy who cut my skull open and subsequently killed me is long gone.
All I have left is this slanted view of my befouled organ. It looks a
little fatter now. It's hard to tell. Maybe it's decomposition? I
doubt it, it looks healthier than ever. No, it's definitely growing.
If death is nothing more than me staring unblinkingly forever at my own
disembodied grey matter, then I guess I'll content myself with charting
the thing's progress. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Around six months have now passed since I
ceased to breathe. The change in both of us is interesting, to say the
least. I think my internal organs have putrefied and leaked out of my
ruptured sides, for my bloated brain now sits in a blackened puddle of
ooze. It's unsightly, but my brain doesn't seem to mind. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We're
at the nine month mark now, my swollen brain and I. The bulbous lump of
grey on the tiles is twice the size it used to be. It's started
twitching sometimes, too. I'm beginning to put the pieces of this
disturbing puzzle together. Gestating spider babies. Has to be. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I think I'm overdue, or at least my brain is. It's been a little over
nine months now, my body had long since turned to slush. I fell off the
table a few days ago, now I lie upon the cold floor beside my
pulsating, bloated hive of a brain. Thankfully, my eyes still face it.
I need to know how this story concludes. Despite being closer than
I've ever been, my vision is now so clouded that it's pretty hard to
make out. There's just something about – oh, wait! It's happening! My
brain is rupturing! I can see them, thousands upon thousands of tiny
creatures spilling out of my orphaned lobes. What are these things,
spiders? Not exactly. They appear to be little brains, with spindly
arachnid legs sprouting from them. Spider brains. Thousands of the
things. I was right, that spider did impregnate my brain. And I'm
certain now, I do feel violated. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't get to feel violated
for much longer. These little monsters, my brain's offspring, they're
looking for their first meal. They've found it. A festering slab of
meat lying beside their torn womb. It's a good thing they take my
putrescent eyes first. Sight was the only sense I had left.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Neil Dinsmore enjoys putting the contorted menaces that form in his mind
to paper with the hopes that someday someone out there in the real
world will want to pet these mysterious monsters. You can find more
writings of varying absurdity, unashamed oddity and the indefinably
bizarre at <a href="https://neildinsmore.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">NeilDinsmore.wordpress.com</a></span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">STARTING OUT</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by Lucha de Leche </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">(CS Nelson) </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Saturday
you want me. Husks and shells pepper the floor beneath us, the crunch
and crackle of Friday night’s mixer echoing across the studio. How you
danced and carried on, sometimes together, more oft then naught in a
solo routine for everyone to admire. You were on fire. Now you dangle
languid from a strand, serene, at peace in the world with only the two
of us. Your teal eyes catch sparkles of sunbeams soaking through the
slats. We blow kisses and dream of the future. Of a family. You admire
my pointer fingers with signals of wanton desire. But they are only a
man’s fingers. Pedipalp surgery is costly, as are children. One day, my
love. You pout. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sunday you’re busy. Oh so busy. And beautiful!
Silken structures form in the sleeping hours, Mayan pyramids erected
from roof to rafter and then back down to the bed we will one day share.
And you. Look at you! Abdomen full, your lady curves swooping
gracefully you’re your busty thorax. A hint wetness on your slit and
spinnerets. Chelicerae buffing smooth fangs. It’s a good day and your
happiness infects. Fingers stroke you to pleasure, but they are not what
you need. A man’s fingers cannot do what a spider’s pedis can. It ends
in a solemn evening. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Monday the office calls. Oh bother with the
obnoxious alarm, the consistent, aaaaaah! aaaaaah! aaaaaah! A sound we
could both do without. You roll over and retreat for the web while the
shower runs, a silent goodbye to a dreamy weekend. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tuesday and
Wednesday give over to Thursday, late nights, a weary trek from bus stop
to doorjamb, collapsing in a puddle of tired comptroller still fully
clothed. Each evening dinner lays waiting, untouched at the foot of the
web where you slaved over hundreds of grub steaks to create a man-sized
feast. It’s the grind, love. It robs the appetite and squeezes the
heart. Still no pedipalps. One day, my love. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Friday you’re quiet.
Gone is the elaborate spin of silken wonderment. A single trapper web
stretches high in the vault, tucked tight into the corner of ceiling and
joist. Where a man cannot reach. A heaviness weighs the air, something
slow and rolling with depression. The flat roars with emptiness. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Saturday
you’re gone. The floor is clean; your webs are empty. One gin and tonic
leads to another leads to darkness. The floor feels so cold without
your silk. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sunday looms in dead silence. Cigarettes burn the
hardwood. Laundry steams in a heap of molted man-skin. Gin becomes
bourbon becomes haze. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Monday and aaaaaah! aaaaaah! aaaaaah! No
work today. A holiday. Bourbon for breakfast and hashish for brunch.
Something to take the edge off, to help slide into the reality of,
“You’re never coming back.” </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tuesday turns into three weeks and the office stopped calling. Clothes don’t fit. Who needs clothes? </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">By Friday the water and power are cut. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Saturday
the sunbeams slip through the slats. A sparkle of hope gleams from the
ceiling. Your web. A starter. Teal eyes wink from the shadows. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A heart once broken thumps one time. Then another. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You slip from a strand, graceful, spinning, until we lie together on the floor. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Monday
the office calls. They need a hero. You stroke the pointer fingers and
we lock gazes. Yes, my love. We’ll sell the flat and get the surgery. We
can live in your web. And with a thoughtful hesitation that elicits soul smiles, all of us. Today, my love. A promise.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">CS Nelson has appeared in North American anthologies and magazines. He
lives in Fairbanks, Alaska with his wife, son, and Queensland Heeler,
playing ice hockey, skiing, and chasing the Northern Lights. His alter
ego is the passionate luchador, Luche de Leche. For a good time darkly,
visit his website at <a href="http://nelsoncs.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://nelsoncs.com.</a></span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">THE TRICKSTER</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by J.M. Northwood</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A more fleshed-out version of The Trickster appeared in <u>Fossil Lake II: The Refossiling</u> under the title My Beloved.</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I remember when we met. I was seated on the veranda of a small café
in St. Louis when I felt the table move, and looked up into a brilliant
smile and a piercing stare.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There was an instant frisson – a spark – a gleam in his eye that
made me want to know more about him; and, as we spoke, I began to itch
with wanting him.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As evening approached, we found ourselves before a rough-spun
silken hammock and slowly removed our clothes. He helped me into our
bed, then drew a gossamer cover over us. His kisses were gentle, yet
electrifying, and I felt my nerves awaken and start to sing.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He stopped me, hands on my hips, and whispered, "are you sure?" My
answer was, I thought, rather clear: I slowly lowered myself onto him,
gasping at his entry, and shifted until he was fully sheathed within me.
We moved as one; and, as daylight approached, became two once more.
Then, in the daylight, he left.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Over the course of the next few months I became moody, irritable.
My ankles began to swell, and my breasts to hurt. Once I admitted to
myself that I was pregnant, I was torn between missing him and wishing I
might kill him for doing this to me. And then, damn me, admitting that
it was the path we both trod that led me to this.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One night I awoke as midnight struck, feeling as though I were
ready to burst. My cramps grew in intensity and shortened in cycle, and I
found him beside me, rubbing my back and murmuring words of
encouragement.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I felt a tearing first, a hot release that spattered viscous fluid
down my thighs, and left fibrous tendrils laying limp against my legs
and sheets. As I lay there, I could feel a movement in my womb, and I
smiled up at him.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"They're coming."</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A tiny foot stuck out, tentative, tapping about and tickling my
most intimate areas, and then the rest of the body followed. That
movement, that first child, opened the gates, and the rest exited in a
rush.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Thousands of spiders -- lime green and mocha brown and cherry red
-- bulbous of body and slender of limb, spread from my loins, rippling
against my flesh and crawling up my legs, and thence to my chest; and,
and as they danced across my lips and tongue, tickling the inside of my
ears as they explored their new life, I made sure to whisper my love to
them.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I felt my heart break a bit as they took to silken threads and flew
through an open window: they were so small, so young, and yet their
father named each of them as they left, his face shining with joy.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He turned to me and took me in his arms, and I kissed each of his eyelids as he lay around me, cocooning me in his legs.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My trickster. My beloved. My Anansi.</span></span></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></i>
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">J.M. Northwood is a cynical romantic prone to both grand passions and
the quiet contemplation of what love truly is. And then he adds spiders.
</span></span></i></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">DATE NIGHT</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by Rick Powell </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As she was in front of the mirror applying
mascara on her seventh eye, she hastily looked at the digital clock on
the cluttered dresser. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">7:20. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her sleek four back legs
quivered in place; her claws clicking on the polished hardwood floor as
she thought, Crap, crap, crap! I cannot be late for date night. Alex was
soo looking forward to this! </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her one front leg was applying
Agua-Net on her cephalothorax while the other two were trying to start
the application on her eighth orb; the thick, coarse hair a struggle
ever since her last molt. Her last remaining leg was trying to hold her
up steadily in place in front of the full length mirror. After a few
moments, she lets out a sigh of relief through her fangs as she tosses
the empty mascara bottle on the unmade bed. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She looks at her
reflection in the glass; she turned to and fro, inspecting her large,
black abdomen, admiring it in the light of the bedroom. She brushed a
few stray hairs away from the red hourglass mark on her lower abdomen,
then nodded her head in a satisfied way. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A dashing, middle-aged
man appeared in the bedroom doorway; he was looking down at the damp
pile of translucent gray tissue in his hands. “Honey, you left more skin
from your molt in the tub. Where should I...Hey! You look great!” He
exclaimed as he looked up and saw her. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her large body struck a
comically models pose, as she said with a giggle, “You think so?! I was
so worried I would not look as filled out. That last shedding took
forever!” </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Her gave her a proud look and a wink as he said, “Babe,
you have always looked filled out. You never change.” Her fangs
twitched, as she felt an unnoticeable blush come to her face. “Awwww.
You always know just what to say,” she said. He tilted his head in the
direction of the mini van in the garage. “Why don't you go get in. I
will get rid of this and we can get going. The reservation is at 8.” He
disappeared from the doorway; holding the damp pile away from his
well-tailored suit. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As they entered the lush restaurant, she
turned more than a few heads of the male patrons sitting around much to
the scowls of their dates. The way they gazed at her long legs, made her
spinnerets twitch in appreciation. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After the lavish dinner, Alex
opened a large velvet box for her to see in the candlelight. Its red,
silk-lined interior showing a necklace of interwoven flies. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She gasped. “Alex, you remembered!” “Happy Anniversary, honey,” he said with a grin. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He
gets up and walked behind her to fasten it around her ebony neck. He
kisses her behind one of her eyes. “It is beautiful!” She exclaimed, as
she caresses it with one claw. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As he sat back down across from
her, she whispered with a loving stare, “You know, this calls for a
mating tonight.” She lifted up her wine glass. “I may not even devour
you, either.” He blinked in surprise. “Wait! What?”</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Rick Powell lives in Oak Forest, Illinois.
He has been a lover of horror his whole life and once got lost in the
woods near Bachelor's Grove when he was 2 years old and claims “he has
been lost in the woods ever since.” He can be found on his Facebook page at: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/tenebraerick" target="_blank"><span style="color: navy;"><span lang="zxx"><u>https://www.facebook.com/tenebraerick</u></span></span></a></span></span></i></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">TORPEDOED BY A TARANTULA </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by Jon James </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I released my clenched breath in a quivering moan as one of his eight hairy legs penetrated my anus. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Several
of his other legs caressed my back and stomach while his pedipalpi
tickled the back of my neck. He chittered something in the alien tongue
that I was still practicing. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Open… Mouth” was all I made out.
When I did, he inserted another limb into it. My tongue flicked the
short, coarse hairs as I struggled not to gag. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Then, he lifted me from inside. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Three
of his legs held both our weight on my bed, the tarsal claws clinging
to the bedsheet. One leg inside my rectum, another inside my mouth, and
the final three hugging my stomach, we raised up. I felt weightless, my
back pressing against the thorax and abdomen of my spider lover. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My
penis was hard as carapace, though he hadn’t even touched it yet. His
one leg probed and explored inside my intestine, and drool was running
down his other leg from my mouth. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As he stood over me, he
lowered me a little so that I was no longer against his sternum and
coxa. Then, gently and slowly, he turned me with the three legs hugging
me, leaving the other two deep inside as I turned. When I was on my
back, still suspended above the bed, I opened my eyes and looked up at
him. He was contorted to reach into me with his limbs, but his many eyes
still looked down at me, unblinking. I wondered what he saw through his
unusual vision. Was I just a dark shape in front of him? Did my
heartbeats send waves of sensation through the tricobothria covering his
body? </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He curved his abdomen forward, brushing it against my erection. He fumbled a little until his spinnerets found the protrusion, and they began wrapping my member with with fine, sticky web. Each tug and spin made my head crawl in rapture. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He
hugged me close again, now that he had found my penis. I wanted to ask
him What can I do for you? I wanted to bring him even a fraction of the
feeling he was giving me, but my mouth couldn’t form words around his
leg and I wouldn’t know how to choke and click out the words in the
language he could understand. So instead I just let myself be consumed
by the gift he was giving me and swore that I would find a way to return
the favor. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My chest pressed against his, our hairs catching against each other, playing chords of elation through my torso. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Finally
it was too much. Just as my orgasm was beginning, his chelicerae darted
forward to either side of my neck, stabbing through the soft flesh. I
could feel the enzymes pumping into my body, I could feel my flesh
quickly dissolving as I finally came, shooting strands of my own web
into the air between us.</span></span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Jon <span style="font-family: inherit;">James d<span style="font-family: inherit;">wells in Lansing, <span style="font-family: inherit;">Michigan, where he h<span style="font-family: inherit;">opes to one day w<span style="font-family: inherit;">rite something his mom can <span style="font-family: inherit;">read. <span style="font-family: inherit;">Today is not that day. Better luck next time, <span style="font-family: inherit;">mom. For more of his weird shit, check out his podcast at wewriteweirdshit.com</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">UNTITLED</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by Justin Burnett </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-53baaa5b-d7b4-bc27-4b84-1512b5035892" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">1600 hours: The hallucinations intensify, and for a second, I almost forget Dr. Habersham and the DMT (over?)dose I just absorbed intravenously. I almost forget about immersion therapy and the leprechauns. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Almost. </span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-53baaa5b-d7b4-bc27-4b84-1512b5035892" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Glowing octagons transform into giant golden bumble bees. They are friendly bumble bees, buzzing around the room and generating a sweetly melodious harmonic accompaniment to the doctor's techno mix CD. Their music is a divine metaphysical honey.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Just as I'm beginning to think the whole thing isn't so bad, something awful happens.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">On an intellectual level, I know that Dr. Habersham (sadistically) intended to terrify me from the start, to subject me to his eccentric version of immersion therapy in order to cure my phobia of leprechauns. I am, on some level, aware that the dark figure materializing before me, throwing the friendly bumble bees in a frenzied retreat to the far side of the room is merely Dr. Habersham in a leprechaun suit, intensified by my DMT addled perceptive faculties. </span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I am, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">on some rapidly deteriorating level, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">aware of this. </span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">T<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">he slow and sinister drone of bagpipes replace the techno.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dr. Habersham steps forward, into a rust-colored, hellish half light and grins, revealing several shark-like rows of jagged teeth imbedded, like dead tree stumps, in green, gangrenous gums. </span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I feel faint.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My heart pounds frantically. His hands reach out to me, covered in thick red hair and accented by long bloody fingernails. </span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Suddenly, I feel an immeasurably sublime openness to the cosmos. This must be what dying feels like, I think. There is no pain, only a strange dissolution of selfhood, an influx of voices and images from all over the unknown expanses of being. Dr. Habersham begins to fade. I assume I’ve had a heart attack. </span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">In my mind(?), I fall into an indescribably alien habitation. It is dark, cramped, and musty. I strain to see what is making a ceaseless, sharp scurrying across the ground, but can’t make it out. I scream for help, and the scurrying stops. </span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Suddenly, I hear Dr. Habersham’s voice in a horrifying, metallic brogue growling “I'm not through with ye, boy.” </span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Before the cool darkness dissipates, something cold and vaguely hairy brushes up against my leg. I grab it, and hang on. </span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I'm back where I began, sucked out of the telepathic universal consciousness that almost afforded me an escape. Dr. Habersham is still stretching his red, bloody hands towards me. I close my eyes. </span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Nothing happens. </span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I look up at Dr. Habersham. His grin is gone, replaced by a fearful grimace. He is staring at my hands. </span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I look down and realize I'm holding a huge, hairy spider. </span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">1645 hours: I leave Dr. Habersham’s office feeling better than ever, while Dr. Habersham is momentarily unaware his inexplicable onset of arachnaphobia. </span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">1700 hours: I step into the shower at my apartment, and notice a wolf spider sitting on the toilet bowl. </span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I immediately get a hard on. </span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Justin Burnett is a writer of wierd stuff and untalented graphic design artist. </i></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">SPIDERFUCK: AN END OF LIFE MEMOIR</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by Kevin Strange </span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
haven't always been sexually attracted to spiders. Actually, that's a
lie; as long as I can remember, I've had a weird obsession with the
eight-legged little arachnids. In fact, I've only ever been attracted to
spiders—which is probably how I ended up in this here web getting the
juices sucked outta me. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It all started back when I was 'round
abouts twenty years on, whacking off in my Grandma's dank, cramped
little basement. I'd found some old pictures in a binder stuffed away in
some boxes down there. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Grandma slept all afternoon, and Grandpa
was dead on account of he blew my momma and dad's heads off then his
own when I was five. He tried to kill Grandma, too, but she'd somehow
survived getting half her face taken off with thirty-aught buckshot. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Made
her real ugly, and I didn't like looking her in her one good eye if I
didn't have to, 'cause even that one was all yellow with flecks of black
all in it. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyway, so I found pictures of her and Grandpa when
they was way younger. The pictures was them and several other fellas all
naked and doin' stuff to each other, and I was giving them a good hard
look cause I'd never seen anything like that before in my whole life. So
I was staring real intent-like, when all of a sudden I felt a tickle in
my drawers, and I looked down just in time to see a little spider take a
bite out of my downstairs parts! </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, I didn't kill that
spider. No sir. I whipped out my junk and had a go at myself, real
careful-like so as to not disturb the little fella—let him keep nibbling
the vein, too, since it was nice and full of blood. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, that little spider didn't stop with my blood. No sir, he started gobblin' up my jackoff too once I blew that outta my dick! </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
ain't never told anyone this, but I kept feedin' that little spider my
jackoff every time I had a hankerin' to look at those old pictures.
Pretty soon that there spider was bigger'n any spider I ever done laid
eyes on! Sexy, too; all them big, glassy black eyes and long legs. I
ain't ashamed to say that spider eventually got big enough I was able to
start blowing my jackoff on her! </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Before long she needed more
than the blood and cum outta my little pecker, so I let her eat Gran.
Gran didn't seem to care none; she'd been ready to check out since
Grandpa tried to blow her head off. She screamed and hollered and cursed
me tons, sure, but I could tell she was content by the way she bled
when the spider went into her with its sleek fangs. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">After Gran, I
fed her the neighbors. Then the postman and the milk delivery boy. The
cops, too, when they came sniffin' around wondering why everybody went
missing. Now she ain't got anyone else to eat, so I guess she's gonna work on me now, and I ain't got no problem with that. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Kevin Strange doesn't really jack off to spiders. He writes books
at KevinTheStrange.com, which is kind of like the artistic equivalent of
jacking off to spiders. Or not that at all, actually.</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">WAITING FOR FLIES</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by Lee A. Forman </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Her eight sexy legs crawl up my cheek. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Oh! It feels so sweet. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My eyes strain to see her. So beautiful, that red mark like hot
lipstick waiting to be kissed. Flies buzz above and my heart races every
time one gets near. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The apparatus holds my mouth open for
beloved to build her web. She’s done a special job, as seen from the
mirror on the ceiling. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s like she’s made it just for me. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We still haven’t had our first kiss; I wait for it with a warm tingling in my stomach. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She crawls onto her web which spans my open mouth. She sits, watching
the flies as I do, waiting for one to get caught in her perfect
creation. If she gets enough I know she’ll share with me. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Patient. Just be patient. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Eventually she’ll crawl in. My finger is on the button that releases my
jaw from the machine’s hold, ready to embrace her in moist darkness
where I can love her forever. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Lee Forman is a horror writer from the Hudson Valley, NY. For more information go to <a href="http://www.leeformanauthor.com./" target="_blank">www.leeformanauthor.com.</a></span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">UNTITLED</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by Matt Neputin </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div>
</div>
<div>
The ice between the stones in the wall has melted and warm
stale air is gently stirring<span style="font-size: small;">.</span> I've been locked in this dungeon for over a
year now. The only thing that keeps me company now are the insects
that occupy this place. The king thought he'd make my life a living
hell by releasing thousands of flies in here. Admittedly, at first it was
quite cumbersome; however, the spiders quickly helped me with the fly
infestation.</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div>
In fact, the spiders became the reason why I survived this
long, they would catch the flies and allow me to eat them from their
webs, I only had to ask them nicely. I spent a long while in absolute
solitude before I was able to hear the spiders talk. Some of them would
laugh at me, and I in turn would try to kill them. Others; however, tried to
help me by letting me feed.</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div>
There was one particular spider that was especially nice. He
said that even though I was now extremely thin and malnourished, I was
still beautiful and that the spider loved me with all his heart. Day in
and day out, he'd sing me songs and poems about my beauty. In a way, that
was all I ever wanted from the king before I tried to assassinate him. I
only wanted him to tell me that he loved me with complete sincerity,
which was something he refused to do as he juggled mistresses. But when I
heard the spider say the words "I love you," I was overwhelmed by his
sentiment. I took him in and kissed him.</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div>
Other spiders began confessing their love to me. They would
cover my naked, emaciated body and start kissing me, all the while
chanting just how beautiful I am and how much they loved me. I knew
polyamoury was illegal in my kingdom, but they have ignored their King's
transgressions and forsaken their queen, casting her into this dark
pit. I'm doomed, but I now have my own harem of suitors whom I love
equally.</div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div>
My suitors hunted other bugs for me, which I would eat from
their nets. They would even band together and smuggle in dead rats and
other rare delicacies. I'd rip the sour meat up into tiny pieces and
share the bounty with my harem. </div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div>
I am queen of this colony, married to every single male
spider in it. The females still served as breeders, but I was the
primary caretaker of the young. Each new generation grew to adore and
worship me more than the last. They wove their webs across the dungeon,
transforming it into my throne as their immortal Goddess. By locking me
up here, the king granted me my wish. The wish for everlasting love and
devotion.</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Matt Neputin is an autistic polish writer who lives in poland with
his fiancee and spends his days writing weird stuff. You can chat with
him on twitter at </span><a href="https://twitter.com/mattneputin" target="_blank">https://twitter.com/mattneputin</a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> or at facebook at </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/MattNeputin" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/MattNeputin</a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></i></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">ARACHNICIDE MATRICIDE</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">by Bryce David Salazar </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The lower half severed and gone, the torso continued its attack. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A
lover’s quarrel. That’s what the papers would call it the next day.
They would find the two of them lying side by side, their expressions
twisted in the horror of their last minutes. The whole of the scene
would be the kind of mess that would freeze the responding officers in
their place. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">They’d find her, what would be left of her, right
next to him having died in the process of taking him apart. Her lower
half would be missing, not to be found until the investigators looked up
and saw just exactly what was in the spider-web at the top of the
stairs. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">They’d find plenty of him throughout the house. Only
three of his eight legs would be with his body, right where they were
supposed to be. The other five were around. Some in the basement where
she started to take him apart. The rest in the kitchen while he crawled
away. Had he not decided to fight back, there might have been some of
him in the living room. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was a shame. She wanted to spread his
body everywhere. A pedipalp here, a patella there. Silk glands chopped
and mixed with poison glands. She at least wanted the cephalothorax
separated from the abdomen. But, in her current state, it would never
happen. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He made it to the door and reached to turn the handle but
it was too late. She pulled what was left of herself up with his
spinnerets and blindly forced the blade up and down, up and down, over
and over while he screamed and begged for her to stop. Eventually, she
would. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He wouldn’t make it. He’d survive her, definitely. But
even if his cries for help fell upon listening ears, they wouldn’t reach
him in time. So she let go and fell to the floor. The last thing she
saw was a photo of them on their wedding day. Him, six feet tall, a
bowtie by his femur. Her, a few inches shorter, wearing a dress that she
had picked out with her mother, the maid of honor. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Until then, on the day of their death, it had been the best day of her life. </span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Bryce David Salazar is the author of She Sees Metaphors. He lives in Michigan. </span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" id="x_docs-internal-guid-9dfd2863-d081-2a35-090e-365e95550561" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LETTERS FROM THE WEB</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="x_docs-internal-guid-9dfd2863-d081-2a35-090e-365e95550561" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">by Chad Lutzke </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dearest Tristessa:</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I
understand that you’re comfortable in your home. Really, I get it.
And if I’m honest, what you’ve done with the place--making the nest
right there under Buddha’s breast--is quite impressive. But if we have
kids I just don’t think there’ll be enough room on the statue for them
to run around. Plus I’m not so sure I want my kids raised thinking
obesity is a healthy lifestyle. You know how bad they make fun of kids
nowadays with big butts. Do you want that for them? Please write back.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Love, </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Victor</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dear Victor: </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Are
you trying to say I have a big butt? That I can’t tell my kids right
from wrong just because we wake up to a giant ceramic belly? I’m sorry
that we can’t seem to see eyes to eyes on this. But I just can’t see
living in the armpit of Christ. From this angle it looks great, very
roomy, never dusted, just hanging there on the wall with a great view of
the living room. But I’ve made a world for myself over here. I just
can’t. I’m sorry.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">PS. How dare you imply I have a big butt! </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dear Tristessa: </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I
think it’s horrible that we have to live like this, rooms apart...and
for what? Tris, I’ve worked so hard to build us a beautiful home. And
Christ’s pit is the only thing you can see from your angle. There’s a
whole other side here. A whole other pit...for the kids. Please
reconsider. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">PS. I love your butt. It’s perfect.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dear Victor:</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I
know it’s been a while, but I’m wondering if your offer still stands. I
see you’ve got quite the supply of food over there and, well...I
haven’t eaten in weeks. I’ve just no time to prepare food anymore. I
spend my days reorganizing the house (someone keeps rubbing Buddha’s
belly). Please forgive me.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">PS. I’ve lost weight.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dear Tristessa: </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Honey,
of course. There’s more than enough room here and you’re going to love
the view. They’ve changed the furniture around so the TV is at the
perfect angle now. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">PS. Maybe the weight loss was a blessing. Maybe your badonkadonk </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">had </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">gotten just a bit big. See you soon. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dear Victor: </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I knew it! You </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">do </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">think
it’s big. So typical of you, Victor. Well, guess what? I’m moving
on. I’ve found a fan that’s not being used. It’s in the attic, and
I’ve already made a ton of new friends. Good riddance, Victor!</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dear Tristessa: </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You do realize it’s winter, right? Good luck with the fan and your new friends.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">PS. See you this summer!</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span>Chad writes dark fiction, hates dishonesty, loves cheese. A lot! Look
for his coming-of-age novella OF FOSTER HOMES AND FLIES out July 22,
2016.</span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">ARACHNOPHORNICATION</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">by D.M. Anderson </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Jedediah Pinkeyeton sat deep within his labyrinth, his web of trinkets
and detritus that was his obsession. His grisly features painted a
haggardly bleak portrait of a man grown geriatric despite his relative
youth.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">His neurosis delved deeply into the realms of full-blown
kleptomania with a splash of sociopathic disconnection in human empathy.
A true virtuoso of larceny, deceit, and grave robbery.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">He hunched further into his phonebook, his bulbous nose
dribbling yellowish mucus upon the rows of digits, and names. Cadaverous
fingers drew psychedelic swirls, like ancient hieroglyphs mingling
amongst the little lives, and the putrid snot. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">His finger stopped suddenly. The spider had chosen his fly.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">***</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Encapsulated Swarovski crystal nails slowly clicked down
in waterfall succession. The rhythm thrummed like a heartbeat mandra,
explosively loud despite the drone of her metrosexually ambiguous
executive assistant/yes-man. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jeanine Cho scoured the wanted ads. Delighted by the
perverted, and blatantly intended adultery transparently advertised in
neat little bingo boxes. Delicious free-range sinners, cataloged
alphabetically for her enjoyment.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Her sycophantic secretary paused apologetically to answer an incoming call.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Miss Cho’s office, how may I assist you?" he intoned by rote.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I'm sorry, but she is currently in a meeting. Would you like to leave a message?"</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jeanine picked up her office phone and fatally jabbed the button for line one.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Thrill me." she quoted her favorite film.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Miss Cho, I presume?" said a cancerous voice.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I've exactly zero time for games. Get to the point." </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I want you. I will have you tonight.” the man cackled. “And there's nothing you can do to stop me!”</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A slow smirk curled Chanel lips into a haunting rictus of corporate beauty. The black widow was pleased. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">***</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jedediah skulked in the shadows of the VIP booth at his
favorite pretentious goth bar, Club I Bleed Black. He watched the
writhing bacchanal as it rolled in and out with the tide of music, and
too-expensive booze. His quarry would be here tonight, he could feel it
in his bunyans.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jeanine entered the club as if she owned the place, which
she did, so it made absolute sense. Club I Bleed Black was a sort of
long standing social experiment. It was her hunting ground, her hallowed
web of sin. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jedediah glanced up from his cranberry juice and froze at
the picturesque widow standing defiantly before him. Eyes met and
sparked a deep seeded cognition that they were kindred. They both felt
it immediately, and neither could deny it.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The gibbering gentleman standing just behind Jeanine
begged to differ. His straight razor cast a gleeming arch, thirsting for
sanguine arterial kisses.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jedediah launched himself at his query. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Jeanine desperately dodged the two men, reaching for her .357 derringer.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The muzzle flash was blinding in the candlelight, burning
the erotic moment into memory. Jedediah strangled the life from the
cock shot fiend, grinning madly as he did. Jeanine leaning down to
finish him with a kiss.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Together they consumed the man's soul, and at last they knew love.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">D.M. Anderson hides inside his hermitage, leaving occasionally to
scavenge for food and toiletries. When he isn’t setting a bad example
for his kids, he’s mercilessly beating his head against the keyboard,
hoping something interesting spills out onto the screen.</span></i></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12311442612134010445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-25982630487719103702016-07-04T08:08:00.000-07:002016-08-08T08:05:53.604-07:00Spider Romance Microfiction Contest!by Betty Rocksteady<br />
<br />
Hey guys! As you may or may not know, my novella <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Arachnophile-Betty-Rocksteady-ebook/dp/B0172MQ4RQ">ARACHNOPHILE </a>is about the relationship between a man and a giant spider. Inspired by that, I am challenging you to write a short short story, 500 words or less, about spider romance! It can be between spiders, between spider and man, between spiders and cats, I don't care! It can be smutty or surreal or horrific or sci fi! Show me something brand new. Surprise me.<br />
<br />
Every Monday for the next four weeks, all entries I received that week will be published on this blog! My favorite entry of the week will win an ebook of their choice from this year's <a href="https://eraserheadpress.com/2015/10/01/sneak-preview-new-bizarro-author-series-2015-coming-november-2015/">NBAS lineup.</a><br />
<br />
<b>How to Enter: </b><br />
You can enter once per week. Send your short story of any genre of 500 words or less to <a href="mailto:bettyrocksteady@live.ca">bettyrocksteady@live.ca</a>. Include a two-sentence bio you want included with your story on the blog. Be super creative, do something I never would have expected. You definitely don't have to have read ARACHNOPHILE to enter, do your own thing. Paste it into the email, or attach a word document, whatever. It doesn't have to be standard manuscript format, but don't do anything crazy with the formating either, make it easy on me. Subject line should be MICROFICTION CONTEST.<br />
<b></b><br />
K. Do it. Do it every week. I wanna read your spider romance. Make it weird or scary or funny or whatever you want. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12311442612134010445noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-37111230765257480732016-06-03T06:20:00.000-07:002016-08-08T08:05:24.078-07:00Time for Another Book Giveaway!by Lee Widener<br />
<br />
I, Lee Widener, am giving away books again! It's another New Bizarro Author Series contest! This one is super easy. All you have to do is tell me what happens on page 50, of either the print or ebook version, of my New Bizarro Author Series book "Rock N Roll Head Case." This contest will run for one month, so that if you haven't read the book yet, you'll have plenty of time to do so.<br />
<br />
What do you win? There are two prize packages!<br />
<br />
PRIZE PACKAGE #1:<br />
<br />
Original hand drawn Bizarro art from me! Behold the Slug of Madness!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MgafskhR5oA/V1F_BLc68uI/AAAAAAAAC20/90jze303QV07xHSkQRqMRAAvDmy0Tc3eACLcB/s1600/slug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="433" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MgafskhR5oA/V1F_BLc68uI/AAAAAAAAC20/90jze303QV07xHSkQRqMRAAvDmy0Tc3eACLcB/s640/slug.jpg" width="640" /> </a></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Plus- choose one of the other excellent books from this year's New Bizarro Author series!</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://nbas2015.blogspot.com/p/about.html" target="_blank">LIST OF BOOKS HERE!</a> </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
PRIZE PACKAGE #2!</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Two cool comic books! Micronauts #23 and the Uncanny X-Men #152!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-97E1mYw63so/V1GAamI2DVI/AAAAAAAAC3A/j_VdzEfrf4g-JGaygVmoRp1UaVyu56z8QCLcB/s1600/Micronauts_Vol_1_23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-97E1mYw63so/V1GAamI2DVI/AAAAAAAAC3A/j_VdzEfrf4g-JGaygVmoRp1UaVyu56z8QCLcB/s320/Micronauts_Vol_1_23.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wLopnYDf4Wc/V1GAm_P8NDI/AAAAAAAAC3I/gI56tO0WEr44p-F8LVPJuYB9o_ow1xEYgCLcB/s1600/xmen152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wLopnYDf4Wc/V1GAm_P8NDI/AAAAAAAAC3I/gI56tO0WEr44p-F8LVPJuYB9o_ow1xEYgCLcB/s320/xmen152.jpg" width="212" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Plus your choice of any New Bizarro Author Series 2015 book!<br />
<a href="http://nbas2015.blogspot.com/p/about.html" target="_blank">LIST OF BOOKS HERE!</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
That's right! Two cool prize packages! Contest runs for one month. To enter, send me your asnswer via email ( neverendingwonder AT hotmail DOT com) or message me on Facebook.<br />
<br />
<br />
After one month I will randomly select two winners from all the entries. Happy reading and send me your answers! NeverEndingWonderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13508099645171572601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-60204245370481536962016-05-23T02:42:00.000-07:002016-05-24T07:58:28.332-07:00Portraits of Bizarro #2: NBAS Editor Kevin Doniheby Lee Widener<br />
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8r_np-MhERU/V0LK-DaXXgI/AAAAAAAAC2E/_d4Q7iQ0rxES6P2egDxM8zi5aOGbeNBdQCLcB/s1600/donihe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8r_np-MhERU/V0LK-DaXXgI/AAAAAAAAC2E/_d4Q7iQ0rxES6P2egDxM8zi5aOGbeNBdQCLcB/s320/donihe.jpg" width="182" /></a>Today we're talking with a real legend in the Bizarro Fiction movement: Bizarro author and editor Kevin Donihe. Kevin wrote one of the very first books Eraserhead Press ever published, and he was the very first editor for the New Bizarro Author Series. His manic style of performance is as memorable as his writing. He is the author of SPACE WALRUS, MUSCLEBOUND MARIO, and many other Bizarro masterworks.<br />
<br />
LW: How did you first discover and become interested in Bizarro Fiction?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JMchflDh5xE/V0LLwIjXYWI/AAAAAAAAC2I/L_tsqX4Tlk8ldg6OORPUiTn5N5PttC9rQCLcB/s1600/gatherdonihe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JMchflDh5xE/V0LLwIjXYWI/AAAAAAAAC2I/L_tsqX4Tlk8ldg6OORPUiTn5N5PttC9rQCLcB/s320/gatherdonihe.jpg" width="207" /></a>KD: Prior to 1999, I tended to submit stories in the horror genre. Anything that could have been considered proto-Bizarro remained hidden away and unpublished because I felt there was no market for it. In fact, my first published novel was one that I'd stopped working on for a few years prior to my discovery of Eraserhead Press.<br />
<br />
In the fall of '99, I was on a quest for submission guidelines and happened upon Eraserhead's website. Then, it published only a webzine and a chapbook series. But that didn't matter. They were accepting the weird, idiosyncratic stuff that I wanted to write, and this gave me real hope. It wasn’t until 2001 that the first six books—including my SHALL WE GATHER AT THE GARDEN?—were released. In 2005, what was once nameless became Bizarro.<br />
<br />
LW: And then how did you move into becoming an editor for the NBAS?<br />
<br />
KD: I was approached by Eraserhead Press for the position, and I accepted. Prior to this, I'd only written books for them, though I had edited the BARE BONE anthology series for Raw Dog Screaming Press. After 11 issues, BARE BONE was put to rest so work on the New Bizarro Author Series could begin.<br />
<br />
LW: How many years did you edit the NBAS?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--7TOLwXwdKY/V0LM4J5bNGI/AAAAAAAAC2Y/gM34cd76kkctg76hinuuL3q5ziars8YEgCLcB/s1600/spacewalrus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/--7TOLwXwdKY/V0LM4J5bNGI/AAAAAAAAC2Y/gM34cd76kkctg76hinuuL3q5ziars8YEgCLcB/s320/spacewalrus.jpg" width="207" /></a>KD: I've edited for the NBAS since 2009, and I continue to do so. For the first few years, I was the sole editor. Now, others have come and gone--or stayed on--in the continuing effort to grow the series. It's not always easy. Some years, I find no submissions I want to accept. 2015 was one of those years. 2016, however, shall be different...<br />
<br />
LW: How did your approach to the NBAS change over time?<br />
<br />
KD: My approach has, more or less, remained consistent. I look for well-written and enjoyable manuscripts that are in line with the NBAS ethos. Then, I do all the things necessary to get those manuscripts ready for publication. Also, and though it's only tangentially related to your question, I'll make note of a positive personal side effect: My novella/novel-length work has, in my estimation, improved since I started to edit for the press. Spending so much time with other writers' manuscripts has helped me better locate errors and inconsistencies in my own.<br />
<br />
LW: How would you say the NBAS has changed over time?<br />
<br />
KD: At heart, I'd say the NBAS hasn't changed very much. The point of the
NBAS is now and has always been to open up Eraserhead Press to a greater
number of writers and expand the boundaries of Bizarro Fiction. We want
new blood, after all. With new blood comes greater variety, and with
greater variety comes additional readers, who are always welcome. There
is, however, one change I might note. In the past, the NBAS accepted
only previously unpublished authors. Now, however, the author just needs
to be new to Eraserhead Press<br />
<br />
LW: Do you have any particular fond memories of working on the NBAS? Horror stories?<br />
<br />
KD: Tons of them. Whenever I hold in my hands a NBAS book that I've edited, I have fond memories. In fact, I'm overjoyed that the author and I had the opportunity to work together and release a book in which we can both take pride. To be the recipient of that sort of joy is exactly why I do the things I do. Conversely, all editors have their horror stories. It might, however, be best to use your imagination in cases such as these...<br />
<br />
LW: If someone wanted to submit to the NBAS what should they know? Do you look for pitches, or something that's near completion?<br />
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-slSN9FwNw2s/V0LOVXvmSvI/AAAAAAAAC2g/iR9xKQId9DIEQsLEtAhOn4DkFe3cJx4zwCLcB/s1600/musclebound.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-slSN9FwNw2s/V0LOVXvmSvI/AAAAAAAAC2g/iR9xKQId9DIEQsLEtAhOn4DkFe3cJx4zwCLcB/s320/musclebound.jpg" width="207" /></a><br />
KD: Personally, I prefer well-written, character-driven work in which oddity feels natural to the story, not shoehorned into the narrative. At the same time, I realize a newer writer might require extra assistance. So, if an author has amazing ideas but certain issues with prose, then I will work with that author to correct these issues. If, however, an author's prose is solid, but his/her ideas could be more compelling, then I will work with that author to see if he/she can’t rethink certain elements.<br />
<br />
As to the second question, it's always best for an author to send me a pitch first. Nothing too formal. Just clue me in on the manuscript's plot and subject matter. Also, I'm willing to hear about a project during any stage of production. Customarily, however, I tend to wait until a manuscript is complete to read it. <br />
<br />
LW: In terms of the NBAS what is it you DON'T want to see?<br />
<br />
KD: Not to say I'd never take submissions that rely on these subjects, but I see too many that involve zombies and Jesus, God and/or the Devil. Also, I receive too many submissions that are straight-up horror. Those would be more suitable for the Deadite Press imprint. Likewise, I don't want to see submissions that aren't even remotely bizarre. I assume these come from people who fail to read guidelines and send submissions blindly.<br />
<br />
LW: Anything else you'd like to add?<br />
<br />
KD: I'd just like to remind those who submit to remember that the author/editor relationship is just that...a relationship.<br />
<br />
<i>---------------------------------------</i><br />
<i>Photo of Kevin Donihe performing at BizarroCon 2015 by Gabino Iglesias.</i><br />
<br />
<i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Kevin-L.-Donihe/e/B004E5UJHG/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1463996189&sr=1-1" target="_blank">KEVIN DONIHE BOOKS ON AMAZON</a> </i> <br />
<br />NeverEndingWonderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13508099645171572601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-12675935698269119512016-05-09T12:47:00.000-07:002016-05-09T12:47:59.020-07:00Where Are They Now? Interview with Eric Hendrixsonby Karl Fischer<br />
<br />
Eric Hendrixson began his career as a not-so-humble member of the <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/46364-the-magnificent-seven-new-bizarro-author-series-2010-11" target="_blank">Magnificent Seven</a>, the 2010-2011 New Bizarro Author Series, which has become the stuff of legends.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jFh0n4R_xO0/Vx5pNlt4-cI/AAAAAAAAAzA/xzzlUzH_MNYcQ74KcuLVBAOIT1VjdevkQCLcB/s1600/magnificent_seven.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jFh0n4R_xO0/Vx5pNlt4-cI/AAAAAAAAAzA/xzzlUzH_MNYcQ74KcuLVBAOIT1VjdevkQCLcB/s320/magnificent_seven.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured here killing varmints.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
In celebration of Eric's latest novel, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Drunk-Driving-Champion-Eric-Hendrixson/dp/1621052206" target="_blank">Drunk Driving Champion</a></i>, a bizarro racing adventure evocative of <i>The Gumball Rally </i>and <i>Cannonball Run</i>, I reached out to Eric for a heart-to-heart regarding his escapades.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Drunk-Driving-Champion-Eric-Hendrixson/dp/1621052206" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xtgCCq8612A/VzDkcu4PtAI/AAAAAAAAAzc/PD32CzUybsUutemq0Bl5f1grT91n7LyIgCLcB/s320/eric_hendrixson_drunk_driving_champion_eraserhead.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
<b>Let's start with the basics. Tell me how you found Eraserhead Press and/or bizarro fiction in general?</b><br />
<br />
<div class="Textbody">
<span style="color: #222222;">I
went to a class on publishing fiction at the library. The instructor worked in
fantasy, so she focused on knowing your genre. But I didn't have a genre. I was
always the odd man in any writing group I belonged to, and none of the
publications out there seemed to publish what I was doing. So after the class,
I tried to talk to the instructor about the kind of fiction I wrote, and she
said, “Well, I guess you're just bizarro.”</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="Textbody">
<span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Textbody">
<span style="color: #222222;">I
muttered, “Yeah, thanks,” and left. I don't believe most things people say and
assumed she was just fucking with me. I'd done a lot of reading and writing,
and I was pretty sure there was no such thing as "bizarro." Still, I
spite-Googled it a couple days later and bought the first two <i>Bizarro Starter Kit</i>s. The first story I
read was <i>The Greatest Fucking Moment in
Sports</i>. After picking up a few more books, I knew I wanted in on this.
Imagine being a devout Catholic all your life without knowing the Catholic
Church existed. Then, one day, while out shopping for printer toner, you stumble
into Vatican City. That's what finding bizarro was like.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="Textbody">
<span style="color: #222222;">Back
then, there was a questionnaire that Eraserhead had you fill out to see if they
wanted to work with you. I filled out the form, and I guess they were willing
to work with me. And specifically, it was Donihe who wanted to work with me,
which was a big deal because he's the one who got me into this genre. My
application was accepted, and somehow, I didn't feel like they were fucking
with me. So I wrote a novella for the NBAS, which was rejected (it really was
just cyberpunk), and I went to BizarroCon, where I met the bizarros, the first
generation of NBAS, and Michael Allen Rose, who was in the NBAS class after me.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="Quotations">
<b>We've <a href="http://nbas2015.blogspot.com/2015/12/where-are-they-now-interview-with.html" target="_blank">interviewed</a> Michael Allen Rose before and talked about his unending font of masculinity. Do you feel any kind of generational connection to the rest of the Magnificent Seven or subsequent NBAS groups?</b></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #222222;">I think of each year of NBAS writers as a graduating
class, so there's a community of sorts among people who have had this common
experience. It's like a college alumni association except that it doesn't ask
you for money, send out newsletters, or officially exist. I was fortunate in
moving to Chicago, since we have four NBAS graduates in this city.</span>
<br />
<br />
<b>How did your year in the NBAS go and how has it affected your career leading up to <i>Drunk Driving Champion</i>?</b><br />
<br />
<div class="Textbody">
<span style="color: #222222;">I
started off writing a story about a narcoleptic disc golf player who fights an
army of Rickrolling squirrels who turn the White House into a giant Rick
Astley. I'd just gotten back from my first BizarroCon and was eager to get this
story on paper. It was also November, and I had done NaNoWriMo before, so I got
started. The problem was that it was a really dumb idea for a book. It was
obviously just wish-fulfillment, so I stopped writing it. In an online workshop
with Bradley Sands, I came up with the idea of a doughnut shop worker and his
kiwi fruit girlfriend selling human faces around Washington, D.C., while
dodging a Michael Jackson-impersonating hit-tomato. That made a lot more sense,
so I wrote that book instead. Then I lost the book. I went to a cheap motel in
Natural Bridge, Virginia, and rewrote it over the course of a few nights and
revised it with Kevin Donihe over a couple months.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="Textbody">
<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41eIiHovV3L._SX318_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41eIiHovV3L._SX318_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" height="320" width="205" /></a><span style="color: #222222;">Back
then, NBAS was more competitive. My NBAS class worked together a lot and
supported each other, but it was still stressful. There was a set number of
books you had to sell—hard copies, not e-books—to be even considered for future
submissions. I think it was a period of character-building. I learned a great
deal about marketing, more about what doesn't work than what does. However,
selling a book is more than just writing a book, and the year changed a lot of
my thinking about writing. Jim Koch, the founder of the Boston Beer Company,
once said that there's only room on your coaster for one beer. I'm assuming he
meant at a time. Similarly, at any given moment, for a person to be reading
your book and not any of the other books out there or that have ever been out
there is a pretty big deal. You have to make it worth the reader's while.</span></div>
<br />
<b>Given the short format of the
NBAS, how did you convince people to put a little beer on their coaster instead
of a big one?</b>
<br />
<div class="Quotations">
<br /></div>
<div class="Default">
If you have small glasses,
serve whiskey.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<b>Tell me about <i>Drunk Driving Champion</i> - the process of writing it and getting it published. Was it always your intended sophomore release?</b><br />
<br />
I pitched this book as a joke. <i>Drunk Driving Champion</i> came out of a month-long anonymous online pitching session with a bunch of Eraserhead authors and editors. It was essentially a pitch workshop gone bipolar. Because of the way the message board worked, all of our ideas either got shut down or were simply ignored. The pitches most recently commented on went to the top while those without comments were buried. That's also how 4Chan works. We'd spend days on a pitch to just get a "nah" or "meh" from the group or for things to be buried and not ever read or voted on at all. In the second week, everyone started getting a little testy. I mostly vented by attacking my own pitches, using language I would never use against someone else. I was getting pretty surly. So full of frustration and beer, three hours after bedtime but ten minutes before bed, I threw together three pitches called "Chainsaw Nunchaku," "Fuck Fucks the Fucking Fuckers of Fuck," and "The Great American Beer Run," which became <i>Drunk Driving Champion</i>. When I woke up, the beer run story had caught on. It was really popular, and Eraserhead accepted the pitch.
<br />
<br />
So I had to write it now, but as I wrote this story, the characters became very real to me. Because of the risk involved, a person has to have a good reason to participate in a cross-country drunk driving race, so I worked on each character's personality and motivation and let that be the driving force for each character's story. That was something I learned from reviews of <i>Bucket of Face</i>, how people responded to the character-driven plot. That allowed each racing team to have its own story arc. There are no auxiliary characters except for victims along the road, and even they have to be real. Each character in the story deserves a story. I also built on the faster voice that I was developing in <i>Bucket of Face</i>. Don't waste the reader's time. Make things happen. Always escalate. So there was a balance between developing the characters and always moving the action forward.<br />
<br />
<div class="Default">
<b>It's a thing of beauty when a farce turns honest. Tell me about your favorite character in <i>Drunk Driving Champion</i>.</b></div>
<br />
<div class="Default">
I like characters who act as the voice of reason in unreasonable circumstances.
Anita, William's A.A. sponsor, accidentally gets dragged into the race when she
gets into his car at the starting line to stage an intervention. After offering
support, encouragement, and A.A. slogans for miles, she starts to lose faith in
her mission. This is used both to comedic effect and as a form of character
growth. Her failure as a sponsor allows her to question a lot of the roles that
she's been pushed into, stop being a sidekick, and take the lead role in her
own life. There are a lot of characters in the story who are crazier than she
is, but she's a sane person in an insane situation. She'd be better off if she
were a lunatic.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QtBBoksT67E/VzDnIPJniLI/AAAAAAAAAzs/DTZbIEuGMFk_pvrKAuQ-44X-aOsg4SdxACLcB/s1600/gumball_rally.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QtBBoksT67E/VzDnIPJniLI/AAAAAAAAAzs/DTZbIEuGMFk_pvrKAuQ-44X-aOsg4SdxACLcB/s320/gumball_rally.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b>If you were in a 70's racing sex farce, what would your character drive and would he stand a chance at making it to the finish line?</b><br />
<br />
<div class="Textbody" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-pagination: widow-orphan;">
<span style="color: #222222;">I'd drive a goat-drawn wagon. It
wouldn't be drawn by ordinary goats but by disco goats. My disco goats and I
would get to the finish line with the power of music and friendship. Or a
Dodge. They made a pretty solid car back then, and you could fit a couple goats
in the back seat or the trunk, depending whether or not those damn goats can
fucking behave themselves for once. Also, instead of Sally Field, I would have
Sissy Spacek as my co-pilot because I think she's a damn good actress. Did you
see her in <i>'night Mother</i>? That
was some solid work, and I think that's the kind of person I would need riding
shotgun.</span></div>
<br />
And I'd want a shotgun.
<br />
<br />
<div class="Default">
<b>I have not seen <i>'night, Mother</i>, but then Bradley Sands would argue that I've
never seen any movies. Is <i>Drunk Driving Champion</i> satirical or absurd?</b></div>
<div class="Default">
<br /></div>
The ultimate purpose of satire is to preach to people by pointing out their flaws.
I think one of humanity's largest flaws is preachiness, so I try to avoid
writing too much satire. There are satirical parts, mostly making fun of
preachy people, but it's not the book's overall purpose. National Lampoon's <i>Deteriorata</i> and <i>We Drive Drunk</i> by Rucka Rucka Ali are parodies that transcend the
subject matter, but most satires and parodies don't. I'd say the book, like
most things, is absurd, but absurdity is not randomness. Absurdity has a logic of
its own.
<br />
<br />
<b>What do you have in store for us in the immediate future?</b><br />
<br />
<i>Giving the Finger</i> was in the <i>Bizarro Starter Kit Red</i>, and being in a
Starter Kit was one of my goals going into the genre. I'm working on assembling
a collection with that story as the tentpole. Essentially, the piece is a
retelling of the Little Dutch Boy story. Once the boy has stopped the leak in
the dike with his finger, the town has no real incentive to let him take his
finger out of the hole. The leak is stopped. And when new leaks spring, it only
makes sense to take more body parts from the boy for repairs. I had a lot of
fun with that one.
<br />
<br />
I've always been a fan of anti-comedy, so I wrote a sort of anti-horror novel, a zombie story without zombies, which is on Kevin Donihe's desk right now. As a part of the world-building process, my novels usually have an underlying cosmology. Charles from <i>Bucket of Face</i> was a
Fifth Day Philistine. <i>Drunk Driving Champion</i> has an afterlife involving reincarnation and the void. This novel, which will either be called <i>Precious Blood of the Lamb</i> or <i>All
Our Future Thursdays</i>, works on a modified Last Thursdayist worldview involving tacos, Thursday being the fifth day and tacos being amazing.
<br />
<br />
<div class="Default">
<b>I think "All Our Future Thursdays" is a beautiful title. I'd like to hear a little bit more about that, if you can tell me.</b></div>
<br />
<div class="Default">
It's the usual boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy dies, boy tries to win girl back,
boy turns into a sheep, boy looks for tacos, girl dies, boy raises girl from
the dead, boy accidentally turns girl into a sheep, boy destroys the universe
looking for tacos story. And he does this kind of thing all the time, which is
probably why the girl dumped him in the first place. I know this description
sounds like a typical romantic comedy, but I tried to put an original spin on
it.</div>
<br />
<b>Last question. If I told you that you had a beautiful body, would you tell me how to live one's bliss?</b><br />
<br />
You would never say that.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://media.giphy.com/media/11I07Kv6YZuEx2/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://media.giphy.com/media/11I07Kv6YZuEx2/giphy.gif" /></a></div>
<br />Karl Fischerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14874163385169816178noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-83805589086897581852016-04-19T08:21:00.000-07:002016-04-25T11:37:07.361-07:00Skin Tape! <div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Written by Anthony Trevino </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Anyone
that knows me well can attest to this fact: If I see a sign that reads KEEP OUT
or if someone says, “DON’T GO IN THERE,” chances are I’m going in there with a
flashlight and a crowbar. Because there’s still an angry adolescent in me that
refuses to be told what to do and I enjoy feeling as if I’ve been exposed to
some kind of hidden, off beat treasure, which is why my love-hate relationship
with the internet could best be summed up as a <i>Trouble Every Day</i> kind of affair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Now,
granted I haven’t been spelunking in an abandoned house or lurked around the
perimeter of a boarded up hotel in a while. However, I have been known to sink
hours into following bizarre threads on Reddit and YouTube wherein I find
myself shaking my head and saying, “I wish I hadn’t clicked on that.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">It
was during one of these time-sinks that I came across Shaye Saint John’s video
“Skin Tape.” Now, I should have known better, but what was I going to do? Not watch
it? Pfffft. The video opens like an 80s workout tape with text that reads:
Modeling Session: Skin Tape. From there I was thrust into two minutes and forty
nine seconds of some of the oddest scenes my brain has ever been exposed to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/n2RV8js_yWw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/n2RV8js_yWw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
was thrilled. I was terrified. And I watched it again…and again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">The
video has the just the right amount of absurdity, comedy, and horror. The
production value is pretty much zero and its shot on what I can only assume is
a low-definition video camera, which adds to the dirty imagery that plays out
on the screen. I was beside myself with uncomfortable joy, and yet, I felt like
there was more to what was happening, like I wasn’t’ quite getting the full
picture. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">So,
I went on a mission to find more intel on this individual made up of disparate
mannequin parts. See, Shaye used to be a knockout super model that was
disfigured in a horrific accident. Following her recovery she created a series
of bizarre videos that would lead her to be an underground sensation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Knowing
about Shaye’s accident put the Skin Tape video in a different perspective. It became
less about strange visuals and more about the character trying to cope with the
loss of who she used to be. Shaye continues to repeat the same lines over and
over. “Skin Tape”—which is just duct tape—and “It’s part of my condition,”
along with shots of her rolling around a mountain of empty soda bottles that
she refers to as a “Baby Bottle Ball Bath.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">There’s
a lot of repetition in the video, as if to display the constant loop that
Shaye’s psychosis is stuck in. The skin tape becomes new skin. The condition is
her disfigurement. And to be honest, I don’t know what the fuck the Baby Bottle
Ball Bath is, but I’ll never forget seeing that face leering at me for the
first time from a top the pile of bottles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">And
now….neither will you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt;">*The
character of Shaye Saint John was created by Eric Fournier. Unfortunately,
Fouriner passed away in 2010 thus ending the saga of Shaye, but leaving a legacy of hilarious terror behind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05500400162624571238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-70267814134278349522016-04-17T20:53:00.000-07:002016-04-17T20:55:59.024-07:00Monsters Review Monsters: "Pacific Rim"L: Hello, I have many names, but you may call me Leviathan. I am the End of All Material Things, the Final Nemesis, and an amateur movie critic. With me is Quatra, a West Atlantic Defense Tower measuring approximately 985 feet in height and carrying an 878,000 megaton explosive yield nuclear stockpile. She also enjoys movies.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;">Q: Hello, everyone!</span><br />
<br />
L: In recent years the so-called giant monster genre of entertainment has seen increased popularity. More than ever, puny humans with incomprehensibly brief lifespans are becoming fascinated by tales of kaiju and other large monstrosities ravaging the Earth.<br />
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<br />
<span style="color: blue;">Q: Such interests also cross the mecha, cosmic horror, and mythological fantasy genres, but regardless of title, these works all have, at their core, an antagonist of astounding size. And given that Leviathan and I are both entities of astounding size, we thought we could offer a unique perspective on the books, movies, television shows, and games that feature "strange beasts."</span><br />
<br />
L: We're going to start with something relatively new and popular, the historical drama "Pacific Rim," directed by Guillermo del Toro. The story is set during the final years of mankind's dominance over their birth world as they struggle to survive an onslaught of kaiju, which emerge from the bottom of the sea. Cities are destroyed, millions killed, and though the Sons of Adam are successful in developing new weapons forged in their own image, the monstrous invasions grow increasingly frequent and destructive, with no end to the violence in sight.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;">Q: Let's talk accuracy, because that was a huge stumbling block for me. In typical fashion, Hollywood has completely glossed over history in order to tell a more streamlined, "action-packed" story. The first <i>mecha gargantua</i> weren't even born until AFTER<i> </i>the Wall of Life program was instituted. We're talking a thirty year gap here - a pretty significant chunk of history that includes the Akira Incident, the Third Impact, and confrontations with Dagon. </span><br />
<br />
L: History, in the human sense, is an entirely fallacious concept. I tried to focus on the film's thematic progression and its handling of the story arc overall. I did think they were a bit heavy with the exposition, though.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;">Q: Also, the kaiju in this movie are tiny. Seriously, look at this chart: </span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Those tiny black silhouettes are the kaiju from the movie. The bigger, grayer ones represent the creatures I fight almost every single day.</span><br />
<br />
L: Eons ago, the Nephilim walked the Earth, and though they had many slaves, they were hunted by still larger entities - luminous beings which could blot out the sky with their mass. Grandeur is always relative.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;">Q: The fights were pretty rad, though.</span><br />
<br />
L: Yes, let us discuss the bloodshed.<br />
<span style="color: blue;"><br />Q: I haven't lived as a human in centuries, so I find it difficult to empathize with fleshy consequences like dismemberment and melting skin, but I did find the plight of the jaegers - the giant robots employed against the kaiju - to be a very compelling aspect. </span><br />
<br />
L: I am a manifestation of the sea, and though countless waves will break upon the shore, my assault is unrelenting.<br />
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span><span style="color: blue;">Q: Exactly. What we have here is a war between robotic slaves and a race of twisted alien simulacra, bred to kill from the moment they're born. As a living defense Tower that spends her days engaged in long-distance bombardment of enraged biomechanical beings, that really spoke to me. And I think that's the beauty of historical fiction - its ability to transcend time by portraying struggle as a universal and timeless facet of life. Its eerie how closely the distant past resembles the present.</span><br />
<br />
L: I too felt time that time and place were being transcended, though more specifically in the way this film entirely resembled "Independence Day," directed by Roland Emmerich and starring Will Smith.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;">Q: Well, it's true that both conflicts were resolved with the use of tactical nuclear warheads - a solution I am not unfamiliar with. </span><br />
<br />
L: Wholesale destruction of famous human landmarks, alien invaders, a species on the brink of extinction, scientific hubris, environmentalist overtones, a rousing speech by a war veteran, utilizing subterfuge to breach an otherwise impassable barrier, a look of recognition and terror on the face of the Other as they greet their annihilation, a non-provocative hug between romantic partners at the film's conclusion...<br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;">Q: Romantic partners? What romantic partners?</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
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<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
<br />
L: Our protagonists Raleigh and Mako. Mako was caught staring at Raleigh's naked torso. They had an innuendo-laden sword fight. They were Drift compatible, implying compatibility in other ways. She begged him not to leave her alone when she thought he was dying.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;">Q: So, what, just because a man and woman are on screen they have to fall in love? Maybe their Drift compatibility allowed them to bypass mere infatuation and arrive at a deeper connection that's wholly platonic, which might be why things seemed more playful in the beginning but less so after they Drifted. Love isn't all about the desire to bone. There are many kinds of love.</span><br />
<br />
L: I am the Antithesis of Life and Love. It is my entire purpose to bring an end where there is a beginning. I am Death, which severs all human emotion forever.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;">Q: But love isn't an emotion, Leviathan. It's a connection. Emotions come and go, but love transcends us. Although I think it's silly that one measly 250 foot robot would require two human minds to operate, the implication is that connections can overcome even the most frightening levels of adversity. My partner, Alti, is also a Tower, and we wouldn't be able to do what we do - fight for a thousand years - if it wasn't for our bond. The promise that, no matter what, we'll be together. </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span>
L: I do not wish to hear about your husband and his anxiety problems again. Overall, as an ageless and unknowable entity, I give "Pacific Rim" 3 stars out of 5. A solid action movie. Strong visuals with an uninteresting character arc. Ultimately satisfying if largely forgettable.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;">Q: Hmph. I give it 4 out of 5 stars for its subtle undertones, masterful use of color, and excellent fight scenes. I could have done with better performances from the main actors and more historical accuracy.</span><br />
<br />
L: If you have a suggestion for the next giant monster related item we should review, let us know in the comments. And be sure to check out the novel <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Towers-Karl-Fischer-ebook/dp/B0172NX0OA">"Towers," by Karl Fischer</a>, which includes my co-host Quatra and a cameo by me, Leviathan, the Enemy of Man.<br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Q: Till next time!</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Towers-Karl-Fischer-ebook/dp/B0172NX0OA"><img alt=" Buy Towers on Amazon" border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PCywEGKgMTQ/VhrtJV94vPI/AAAAAAAAAdE/daDg1Q1uveIUdwCXarH-LNYdckE7HHEUACKgB/s320/towers-by-karl-fischer.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
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Karl Fischerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14874163385169816178noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-8337128139088736102016-04-07T11:30:00.000-07:002016-04-18T11:20:40.423-07:00Where Are They Now? Interview with Justin Grimbolby Pedro Proença<br />
<br />
<br />
I had the honor and the privilege to interview one of my favorite writers, and all-around beautiful human being Justin Grimbol.<br />
<br />
Pedro: Hey Justin! In advance, thank you for the interview! When and how did you get involved with Bizarro Fiction, and the New Bizarro Author Series?<br />
<br />
Justin: I got into Mellick first. The Haunted Vagina was my first Bizarro read. Then I read everything Mellick. I would bring his books to work. This was really awkward because of the titles. But I'm a risk taker, a rebel, a go-getter, a Adrenalin junky, so I brought them in anyway. Then I heard about Bizarro Central. I wrote a little blog piece about bringing Mellick to work. People liked it. Kevin Shamel contacted me and asked me to write a book for the NBAS. My first attempt was called THE MINIVAN. It was about a man stuck in an evil Minivan. But it was rejected. It was getting close to deadline. But Kevin wanted to give me another chance. I sent him a bunch of pitches. He had me combine the ideas he liked, then send him an outline. Then I wrote the book in a couple days. Binge writing was fucking blast. I got all sweaty and crazed and excited about life. And tired. It also made me tired. I edited the fucker for a day or so. Then I sent it to Kevin. He told me he wanted to publish it. We worked on it for a couple weeks. He emailed me and told me he wanted more monster fights. I sent him some more scenes with monster fights. Then he said he wanted even more monster fights. So I sent him even more monster fights. Kevin was fun to work with. After the book was all jacked up on monster fights, I flew out to Bizarro Con. I partied hard. Talked about books and danced and didn't shower much. After that I felt thoroughly bonded to the scene.<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TEt2nK-Yh3c/VwMbups12YI/AAAAAAAAAZc/4YuI1denxUcOSS-IN5fLzQ5DN9zgXnHeg/s1600/13029490.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TEt2nK-Yh3c/VwMbups12YI/AAAAAAAAAZc/4YuI1denxUcOSS-IN5fLzQ5DN9zgXnHeg/s320/13029490.jpg" width="206" /></a><br />
Pedro: That's incredible! I read some of Carlton's books on the train, and attracted some amused looks myself.<br />
Every story I hear about the NBAS rush reminds me of our class'. We had a really tight schedule, it was nine of us, from three different continents, and we made it work.<br />
What do you think is coming for Bizarro? Do you think it will ever be mainstream? Can you see in your head a Crud Masters movie?<br />
<br />
Justin: I think there are Bizarro authors I think will become really popular and maybe even legendary. I don't know about main stream.<br />
I think Pacific Rim is a lot like The Crud Masters. My book had more raunchy sex though. So its better. Also, here's a little secret. My buddy Pete, was trying to get his cartoon Uncle Grandpa picked up by Cartoon Network around the time I wrote the book. But they didn't like it at first. So I asked him if I could put his character in my book. He said I could. So I did. Eventually cartoon network did pick up the series. I doubt they realize that my own version of Uncle Grandpa is in The Crud Masters. Wait, what was I trying to say? Oh yeah. Uncle Grandpa is better than Pacific Rim. Uncle Grandpa is in my book. I also cry a lot. Also, I like to take pictures of trees. Also, my dog as a silky forehead. Also, when I am feeling really sad I watch Star Trek Fan Films and that really fucks with my head. This all has something to do with something else and that's something.<br />
<br />
Pedro: I also cry a lot. I cried reading each one of your books, actually. Something about a sensitive fat guy who loves butts really touched me. In the butt.<br />
Seriously, your books triggered reactions in me that maybe no others did.<br />
Which movies/books made you cry when you were first exposed to them?<br />
<br />
Justin: Oh I'm a big time sap. I can't watch a Rocky Balboa Training montage on Youtube without sobbing. My favorite movie is Terms of Endearment. That fucking thing will make me weep. Carlton Mellicks Teeth And Tongue Landscape made me cry. The end of Stephen Kings IT made me cry. Jim Harrison just died and that made me cry. Lots of Larry McMurtrys books make me cry. Holy shit, Diary Of a Part Time Indian by Sherman Alexie made me weep forever. Sam Shepard Plays make me weep. There were scenes in Cry Father by Whitmer that made me weepy. The list goes on and on.<br />
<br />
Pedro: If someone walks up to you and gently ask you for writing advice, what do you say?<br />
<br />
Justin: Read a bunch. Write a bunch. Use adverbs sometimes. Its no big deal. Use the word VERY and JUST sometimes. Its fun.<br />
Don't follow the writing rules. Walk a lot.<br />
Don't try and be profound.<br />
Have fun and remember its work.<br />
Let me touch your butt.<br />
I would say all that. Then I would touch their butt. Then they would understand.<br />
<br />
Pedro: I look forward to having my butt touched by you, Justin.<br />
Thank you very much for this interview :)))<br />
<br />
Justin: No problem my NBAS homey. Stay Golden.<br />
<br />
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<br />peDro faRiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04417793041467996324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-5787807055615499872016-04-07T09:38:00.000-07:002016-04-07T09:38:57.411-07:00Where Are They Now? Interview With Kevin Shamelby Lee Widener<br />
<br />
This is a real treat. Today I'm talking with author Kevin Shamel. Kevin was part of the first New Bizarro Author Series crew, and also went on to become editor of the series, so we'll gain some insight into how the series began, and how it evolved in the first few years.<br />
<br />
<br />
LW: Hi Kevin- To start off, how in the world did you find out about Bizarro fiction, and get involved with it? And how did you hook up with Eraserhead Press?<br />
<br />
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JVC3yKjcHz0/VwGHZ2Ecl6I/AAAAAAAAC1Y/PJnqLCFI3aYXryKap20NkK-VLWzqDwodA/s1600/kevinshamel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JVC3yKjcHz0/VwGHZ2Ecl6I/AAAAAAAAC1Y/PJnqLCFI3aYXryKap20NkK-VLWzqDwodA/s320/kevinshamel.jpg" width="240" /></a>KS: I found bizarro in 2009 when I kept having stories rejected by traditional publishers for being “too weird”, unless they asked me to butcher them into something more palatable for the mainstream. I got tired of making my protagonists and their worlds normal, or fit into the accepted tropes for horror, science fiction, or urban fantasy. I looked online one day for “weird fiction magazines”, as I was of the assumption that writing short stories was the way into the publishing world (something the very approachable, friendly, and longtime hero of mine Christopher Moore set me straight on about the same time I found EHP, actually). I found Eraserhead’s website, read some Carlton Mellick III and knew these were my people.<br />
<br />
I actually submitted the last survey they had on their site to determine if a writer was of like-mind and someone they might want to get to know. It was the last one because EHP was going through some changes right when I found them—they’d just come up with the idea for the NBAS, and started the first Bizarro Bunker. Then all sorts of weird “coincidences” happened.<br />
<br />
Rose O’Keefe contacted me soon after and told me that one of their writers lived in the same city (Olympia, Washington) as me— Cameron Pierce. She suggested that I meet him. However, by the time we connected (just a day or two later), Cameron told me he was moving to Portland—like right then. BUT, he told me that he had a friend who lived in one of the black houses (it’s an Olympia thing) who was hosting a reading for him and a few other authors. Turned out that house was at the end of my block. You can read about it from Jeff Burk:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://jeffburk.wordpress.com/2009/05/20/satanic-dentists-in-olympia-reading-report/">SATANIC DENTISTS IN OLYMPIA!</a><br />
<br />
In fact, if you read that blog post, keeping in mind that I was the photographer and this was the FIRST time I’d ever met these people, you’ll know exactly why I had to work with them. I had no idea how lucky I was to 1-. See the second Meat Magick (and every other one after that!) 2- Witness Jeff’s Shatnerquake performance, and 3- See CARLTON FREAKIN’ MELLICK III perform in a room with only five or ten audience members—that’s something not a lot of people can say. Hell, the moment they piled out of their car with handfuls of burritos before the reading I knew this was my crew. By the time they’d finished dinner, I’d walked home and got my martini-fixins so we could really get to know each other. THEN they performed. I’d never seen anything like it, and I knew it was exactly my style. Also, I laughed until I hurt.<br />
And that was that. I’d submitted writing samples and links to some of my published stuff and we knew we liked each other. Soon Rose sent me an email introducing me to my editor for their new idea, the New Bizarro Author Series, and we got to work.<br />
<br />
LW: That's quite a story! Who was that editor, and what was it like working with him/her?<br />
<br />
KS: Kevin Donihe was my editor. It was weird and good to work with him. I had about 20,000 words written on a book and a couple others I’d started, which he’d read and liked, but about twenty-thousand words was about as big as he wanted an NBAS book to be. So I pitched him some ideas until we had one that we both liked and I went to work on it. Took about a week for the first draft, and then Kevin showed me how to expand the good parts. He’s got a tremendous grasp of language, and knew how to turn what I had into an actual book. It was great, really, all around. But such a new experience for me, and definitely enlightening. Carlton was in charge of the NBAS at that time, and I learned a lot from him about craft and later promotion. I remember the first NBAS series as a team effort from all the staff of Eraserhead Press, really. In that year, I learned more about publishing than I had in the ten that it took me to get to where I was.<br />
<br />
LW: Tell us about your NBAS book, and what kind of interesting things you did to promote it.<br />
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KS: Rotten Little Animals was inspired by a cat fight in a rainstorm that my 12-year-old neighbor Audrey and I watched from my upstairs hall window. She called my attention to two cats doing some sort of Kung Fu across the street. I shit you not, one cat followed the other that leapt over a picket fence, when a wind-gust slammed him straight through the boards. The freakin’ cat didn’t miss a beat and continued fighting the other in the yard when a huge torrent of rain let-loose. The cats were illuminated in the yard as street lights popped on in response to the sudden darkening of the sky. They just kept going at each other. It was amazing. More amazing was Audrey’s observation. During the fight, a meat truck drove around the block three times. We were standing there, watching this insane thing happen and she said, “That meat truck is ruining the shot.” Immediately I had the idea for an animal film crew at work on a cat fight scene when that stupid meat truck ruined the shot by circling the block over and over—and that scene became the opening of the book.<br />
<br />
I promoted the hell out of it. The Rotten Little Puppet Show was born
after I spent 52 hours with the help of friends and family creating
elaborate sock puppets for the characters in the story. During
performances, I’d yell out the craziest scene from the book, making the
audience be the puppeteers. Zombie-cat puppets were the favorites.<br />
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I took car-magnet stock-signs from an online printing company and turned
them into free ads for me which I put all over the internet. I ran
giveaway contests, had people make their own zombie-cat puppets, worked
on gathering reviews and generally trying to figure out Amazon
algorithms (which ended up catching the attention of German publisher
Voodoo Press, who have since added quite a few American Bizarro books to
their list, but who made my book the first NBAS book to be translated
and published in another country which didn’t hurt promotion one bit),
played on Goodreads, had a funny animal blog and did stuff on Facebook
before it was stuff you can’t do on Facebook or you won’t have friends
for long—but it was new, then. I worked my ass off on that book, because
I had to sell 200 copies in a year (and that’s a lot harder than one
would think). I managed to sell over 250. At that time, the prize was a
contract with Eraserhead Press.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
LW: Did you work on any promotional projects with the other NBAS authors that year?<br />
<br />
KS: The first year of the NBAS is very different from the rest. We were totally pioneering stuff—trying things out to see if they worked. And we weren’t as close as subsequent years became. It wasn’t really something we did much, and none of us lived near each other. We tried a few things, but nothing that stands out as a real, working, group promotional effort. Most of us genuinely loved each other’s books, and we cross-promoted as much as we could. Of course, we all kind of considered each other competition, too. We weren’t just competing, but we didn’t know yet what a little family (and therefore FORCE) we could become if we threw-in together more than we did. Happily, the experience welded a bond between David Barbee and I that nothin’s gonna break. I saw that happen a lot in subsequent years between authors of the same series.<br />
<br />
LW: How did you go from having an NBAS book to becoming the editor for the series?<br />
<br />
KS: Well… Let’s just say some changes happened and I was looking to move to Portland. I had worked very closely with the EHP crew for a couple of years, spending a lot of time at conventions with them and doing performances. I’d done Bizarro Bootcamp, which I won’t really get into explaining other than to say that in the time I was with the crew, I learned how they worked up-close and fell in love with their style and ethics. If I had to work for someone, they were who I wanted to work for. Luckily, they’d hoped I’d ask.<br />
<br />
Rose and Carlton took me on to learn editing and layout as well as begin the Bizarro Brigade. I spent a lot of time sitting between Rose and Jeff Burk editing manuscripts and learning from them how to work all the software involved in publishing. Once they thought I had a good grasp, I went to work as an editor for the series, along with Donihe, and was placed in charge of the NBAS authors—answering questions, cheerleading, teaching about promotional stuff, helping them organize things, keeping them up to date with sales figures, all the stuff that I’d been through in their shoes.<br />
<br />
I was able to scout new talent and help those authors complete their first books—several times from concept to completion. It was a very fulfilling job. I’m happy to have played a part in so many writers starting out their careers. And heaps of them are doing amazing things today.<br />
<br />
LW: You mentioned scouting authors and helping them get them in print. Who are some of the authors that came to your attention that you're glad you gave a shot?<br />
<br />
KS: My list of "found 'ems" includes Vince Kramer, Gabino Iglesias, Constance Ann Fitzgerald, Shane Cartledge, Tiffany Scandal, Dan Vlasaty... I believe there are more. There are certainly other people I've published that had already been published in other venues (like Justin Grimbol, Tamara Romero, and Spike Marlowe), and really, Gabino was already writing quality articles for Eraserhead Press dot Com and was an established reviewer/professional freakin' journalist, so it's not like no one else thought he'd make a great bizarro author. I just approached him is all. In some cases I pursued these authors, other cases encouraged them to write books. I'm just happy to have given ALL my writers exposure, however much help I have been.<br />
<br />
LW: You worked with Kevin Donihe as co-editors. Was that ever confusing- Kevin and Kevin?<br />
<br />
KS: Kevin and I were referred to among staff and authors as, Donihe and Shamel. Sometimes The Kevins. Never Kevin Squared, and that would have been cool. Damnit.<br />
<br />
LW: What did you learn from working as an editor for so many different writers?<br />
<br />
KS: I learned how to be a better writer, that’s for certain. I learned how satisfying it is to see something in someone’s story that they haven’t yet, and to help them make it blossom. I thought I’d already learned the value of being succinct, but seeing its opposite reflected in others’ writing made me pay more attention to using fewer words—I was also a sort of acquisitions editor, receiving at least one query a day (usually more), many with attached novellas, I saw countless examples of not-great writing. I learned to write in different styles as well, however, having such a wide variety of authors and to appreciate the uniqueness in every writer’s voice. One of my favorite things was editing a scene or paragraph and matching the changes with the rest of the story—almost putting myself into the writer at the time he or she wrote it. Or just steering them toward the outcome that made the story even better than I could have thought. I learned that I have a lot of favorite authors. I think also, I learned how to be an editor. It’s not a job or working relationship, it’s a friendship. You have to really cherish the authors you take on. You have to respect each other, and work well together. I love all the people I worked with. ALL OF YOU!!!!<br />
<br />
LW: From your experience as an editor what can you tell someone interested in writing Bizarro, about what NOT to do?<br />
<br />
KS: Don’t jump in thinking you know what bizarro is without learning what makes the genre a genre. This is really the only solid, lasting advice I can give. But here’s some that might still apply: Don’t tell an editor that you’ve just written the first/best/only/greatest story about __________. Don’t get an editor’s name wrong—no Ms. or Mr. unless you know for certain, no Kalvin Dondalhees, Gareth Kochs or Dudes (especially to female editors and unless you’ve talked to that editor before or shared a joint in the least). No talking dicks. I know that last one is a joke by now, but it’s not a fucking joke. NO TALKING DICKS. Don’t assume that because your book has messed-up sex, a bunch of explosions and is as politically incorrect as possible, that it’s something for bizarro editors to slobber over. No vampires either, unless they’re better than Dargoth Van Gloomfang, which they can never be. (I’m actually not the one who can say so now, maybe vampires are fine with current editors, but not talking dicks, I know this will never be okay.) But if you don’t know the vampire I just referred to, your chances of getting bizarro right just got slimmer.<br />
<br />
Misogyny is unacceptable in bizarro. Actually, any sort of limiting of people as individuals is. If you’re not making fun of it, calling it out as the horrible fucking thing that it is in the world, and saying how much it makes you want to puke, try somewhere else. Bizarro is an open movement—all-inclusive, unlimited, everyone-friendly. We don’t like people treating people (or animals) badly. Don’t try and sell stories about talking dicks, and don’t BE a talking dick—that’s some pretty standard, long-lasting advice.<br />
<br />
LW: And what SHOULD they do?<br />
<br />
KS: They should read bizarro. They should read it from its beginning to its current incarnation. They should know who the big authors are, and why they are the big authors. They should attend performances, readings, workshops and conventions with bizarros. They should meet the people they want to work with, if at all possible—which is at least possible through social media. They should know who they want to write for and why. They should become acquainted with the various presses, and what they publish. They should be aware of the press’s history, their standing in the publishing industry, their policies. They should read what people say about them as well as what they publish. Research and understand the market. Be polite.<br />
<br />
And then submit a great book, idea, pitch, or story to an editor. Make it the best you can before you send it. Make it bizarro: Weird characters in weird worlds with weird problems or whatever story device with which you’re working—just keep it weird. Remember that short story collections aren’t that attractive as a first book, for readers or editors. Remember also that for every twenty brilliant ideas that no one has ever thought of before, only one or two will actually be original enough to pass as original, and they might not be anything an editor wants to spend time on. Just keep trying until you hit the right one.<br />
<br />
Keep writing.<br />
<br />
LW: What's been going on since you stopped editing for the NBAS? I know your life has been through some pretty major changes.<br />
<br />
KS: That was three years ago now. I’ve been splitting time between the US and Australia—lately mostly Australia (where I live with my lovely Australian wife, Anna). I’m working on getting a visa that allows me to work here and come and go as I want, so I can split more equal time between the two places and see my kids more. It’s proven a bit of a task, but we’re working on it. I’ve been keeping busy with four stepkids, our new dog, battling in-laws, mourning dead spiders, spending time outside, working the now-harvested garden, getting this latest book of mine all prettied-up, and all the weird projects I’m working on. I’ve been producing things, but I’m not yet able to sell them anywhere, so I’m saving up my new lines of products for when I can hit craft fairs, launch websites, etc. I’m making zombie cat sock puppets. I’ve been playing fashion re-designer and have a line of hand-sewn clothing I’m calling, Punked Up Clothes. I taught myself lost-wax casting a couple of years ago, and I’ve been making fine silver jewelry using stones that were my dad’s or that I’ve found. And of course, I’m writing. Always writing.<br />
LW: You have a new book coming out soon. Tell us about it.<br />
<br />
KS: I’m very excited for this one. It’s called, Not Safe For Kids, coming out this month! It’s an illustrated children’s book for adults. It’s full of bad advice, wrong facts, and confirmation of childhood fears. I tell people it’s like if you left your kids with your drunken brother who lives in your mom’s basement who you had to use as a babysitter in an extreme emergency when not a single soul, even that guy you sometimes see sitting by the dumpster talking to himself, could watch your precious little ones and he told them “the fuggin’ TROOF, more or less, damnit, are you gonna pay me for this or what, only two outta three are cryin’ or hurt”. Or as my son said, when he was eight, and I read it to him aloud, “Can you imagine if actual kids got a hold of it?”<br />
<br />
LW: Your book's cover and interior art are by Jim Agpalsa. Tell us about working with Jim. What was your process like? Did you just give him the manuscript after it was completed, or was it more of an organic process?<br />
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<br />
KS: This book is by both of us.<br />
<br />
I awoke at 4AM one day and starting writing. By 10:00 I had the text. I went out and had a smoke, and imagined the first little entry illustrated. I went back inside and emailed it to Jim, asking if he’d be interested in drawing it, and then if maybe he’d consider working with me on a whole book like it. He said he liked the idea. The next day he told me that he’d read the story to his young daughter and she asked if it was true. He said, “Yes.” I knew that we’d make a great team. (I already knew that, anyway. Jim’s illustrated some shit for me that hasn’t been published yet. He’s a great artist, and anyone is lucky to have him on their creative team. He’s also a really good person, and super cool.)<br />
<br />
I sent him what I’d written and he turned it into GOLD. Seriously, without Jim’s illustrations, this would not be a book. With them, it’s magickally wicked. I think he and I make a fabulous team. He took my mean little entries and translated them into gorgeous illustrations. The cover is a colorized version of one of the interior illustrations that Jim reworked a bit. This is a truly beautiful book, and I’m seriously proud to have a hand in it.<br />
<br />
I was allowed to go crazy with the interior design and layout of this book, and I had an amazing time pushing myself into new things with the coaxing of my publisher and final editor on this project, Rose O’Keefe (who also designed the cover). I hope people like it.<br />
<br />
At any rate, this couldn’t have happened without Jim’s amazing art and us being in synch with each other. I’m hoping we can bring similar things into being in the future. Jim is a good friend, and a great pleasure to work with. Also, one hell of a fantastic artist—check him out all over the Bizarro world.<br />
<br />
LW: This has been a blast, Kevin! Anything else you'd like to add?<br />
<br />
KS: I’d like to thank you for thinking of me for this interview series, and for asking such great questions. I hope I didn’t go overboard in my answers. Best of luck to you, Lee, in your future publishing life. And to all of the NBAS authors. I know how tough it is. I also know you can do it.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Kevin-Shamel/e/B002TOEI76/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1459720961&sr=1-2-ent" target="_blank">CHECK OUT KEVIN'S BOOKS ON AMAZON! </a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://nbas2015.blogspot.com/2016/03/portraits-of-bizarro-1-artist-jim.html" target="_blank">OUR INTERVIEW WITH ARTIST JIM AGPALZA</a><br />
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<br />NeverEndingWonderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13508099645171572601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-44500071980475704082016-03-29T22:52:00.000-07:002016-04-01T10:43:31.800-07:00The "Which New Bizarro Author Series 2016 Book Are You?" Quiz!<iframe border="none" frameborder="0" height="700px" id="quizWidget-196750" src="https://www.boombox.com/widget/quiz/fi9xdWl6emVzLzE5Njc1MA" width="100%"></iframe>NeverEndingWonderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13508099645171572601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-7884983092414976982016-03-28T08:20:00.000-07:002016-03-28T08:37:34.905-07:00Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice – A Review<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">What
the hell was that? Seriously, what just happened? Did I just dream
that? There was Superman. But Superman was a nervous wreck, on the
edge of a breakdown, crippled by self doubt and pretty much only
concerned with saving Louis? And Batman was there too, except Batman
was filled with rage and hate and regret and fear, and I mean filled
with it. Lex Luthor was around as well, but this Lex Luthor wasn't
the suave self assured sociopath that we all know and love. This Lex
was a raving lunatic, more like the Joker than Luthor? Also Wonder
Woman was there, but she didn't really seem to be doing much?</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">Oh
no, wait, I know what that was, I just watched Batman v Superman:
Dawn of Justice.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">The
plot? Well, i<span style="color: #222222;">t's
been nearly two years since Superman's (Henry Cavill) colossal battle
with Zod (Michael Shannon) devastated the city of Metropolis. The
loss of life and collateral damage left many feeling angry and
helpless, including crime-fighting billionaire Bruce Wayne (Ben
Affleck). Convinced that Superman is now a threat to humanity, Batman
embarks on a personal vendetta to end his reign on Earth, while the
conniving Lex Luthor (Jesse Eisenberg) launches his own crusade
against the Man of Steel.</span> </span>
</div>
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<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">I've
got to say up front, when the trailers were coming out for this film,
I was not excited. I was indifferent. It looked like a yawn fest. A
tiresome repeat of the wanton destruction at the end of Man of Steel.
A boring slugging it out between an inhuman Superman and a tired old
bat. Well, I went anyway, and I was wrong, it wasn't boring. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">Was
this the superhero movie we wanted? Was this the superhero movie we
deserve? Was this even a superhero movie? To answer those questions
in order: no, maybe, and no. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">It's
a brutal film, filled with hate and revenge and selfishiness. It's
concerned with weighty questions, like <i>man v god</i>, <i>who is to
blame, who does Superman owe allegiance to? </i>And
it's totally freaking weird. I mean, off the wall weird. Garrett Cook
said it was “a superhero's nightmare” and that's a fair
summation. It's full of imaginary and dream sequences and if you're
not paying attention you're going to get lost. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">The
DC universe is often described as the coming of the new gods and this
seems to fit with what DC are doing in their ambitious film universe.
The film is just chock-full of questions about what does it mean for
there to be a man who is so powerful he can literally do anything?
Does he have the right? What does he want? And what can we do as
humans to stop him, if we don't like the answers to those questions? </span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">Is this even a superhero movie? Arguably not. Sure people have superpowers but, a bit like the end of Man of Steel, no one does much heroic. Everyone is selfish and self absorbed. They have a reason to fight, but they aren't holding up a noble ideal, they're fighting for their reasons and their reasons alone. It's not for a brighter dawn, or protecting the weak, they're fighting because they're pissed off or have something to lose. That makes them the old Greek Gods, but certainly not heroes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">This
is the nightmare scenario. When gods fight. Yeah, Batman is just a
human, except he clearly isn't. If Kal-El is Ra, or possibly Zeus
then Batman is Hades, stern and unyielding and unmoved by prayer.
Gone is the Christopher Reeves Superman, there is no fanfare. Now we
have a Superman who leveled Metropolis to stop Zod. A Superman who
appears to have nothing to fear. And gone is Batman too, no Adam West
goofiness, or Michael Keaton steel, or even George Clooney cheese.
Even Christian Bale's bat is banished in favor of a brutal Frank
Miller-esque Dark Knight. A huge, bone snapping gladiator ready to
punch the man of steel in the face. Who will seek vengeance for the
slain? Who will bring the guilty to justice? Who is the Man of Steel
accountable to? Batman.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">Do
we deserve this? Do we deserve a DC universe which is filled with
weighty gods who rain destruction down upon the innocent civilians
and appear to care nothing about it? Unfortunately, yes we do,
because we did this. I don't know if BvS was in preproduction when
Man of Steel was getting roundly thrashed by the critics, but it
certainly feels like the criticisms of that film were listened to.
Most people, myself included, complained about the wanton destruction
at the end of MoS - “What about all the people who must have died
in Metropolis? Doesn't Superman care?” Well, here's your 2.5 hour
reply. If you said that, or thought that, you are Batman. You did
this.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">Zack
Snyder's reply is more destruction (with a slight nod that no one is
in fact in these buildings at the time), god v man, a Superman who
appears to only care about two women on the planet and a brutal
Batman who snaps limbs and brands his victims. </span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">Garrett
Cook also said of this film “you're not high enough to watch this
film”, here I don't agree with him. You're not sober enough to
watch this film. This is the cold hard sobering smack to the Marvel
Movie face. Shit is real. People are going to die. What do you
believe in?</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">Secondary
question, do I even want this film? Do I want this dark and macabre
DC universe? How the hell is it going to hold itself together?
Remember this DC universe, in potential, has Captain Marvel with the
power of Shazam, 52 Earths, Gorilla Grodd and Krypto the Superdog in
it too? Only time will tell if they can balance this universe or not.
At the moment, on the strength of this outing, I'm willing to give it
another shot. This sure as shit ain't Marvel and that's alright, now
that I understand that.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">So,
did I enjoy it? Enjoy is not the right word. I respected it. I came out feeling like a piano string after a Shostakivich recital - battered and bruised but feeling like something good had just happened to me. It's intelligent, and it's asking questions, which I have to give it points for. It's brave and bold. It
wasn't boring, but it's not for kids either. This is not Marvel. This is the DC universe, and the DC universe is cold, and brutal. Bones are snapped. Fires are
started. People are branded. Characters are flawed and wracked with guilt. Nightmares walk abroad. And humans are
scant on the ground. Hold onto your loved ones and pray that the
giants don't notice you.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , monospace;">My
name is Chris Meekings, I watched this film, you might want to too.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03275864230073773583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-16890623125827572132016-03-17T08:14:00.001-07:002016-03-17T15:47:38.276-07:00Portraits of Bizarro #1: Artist Jim Agpalza<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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by Lee Widener</div>
<br />
<br />
This is the first in a series profiling prominent figures in the Bizarro community who are not authors. First up is Bizarro artist Jim Agpalza, who has done many book covers for Eraserhead Press, including two of this year's New Bizarro Author Series books; my own "Rock N Roll Head Case" and Chris Meekings' "Elephant Vice."<br />
<br />
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<br />
LW: Jim- Some of our readers might not be as familiar with you as they are with the writers in Bizarro. Can you give us a little info on your background- where you came from, art training, etc.?<br />
<br />
JA: First of all, Hi Lee and readers! I come from a tiny sugar plantation town on the north shore of O'ahu, Hawaii. I was raised but never baptized as a Jehovahs Witness. I used to draw flip book cartoons of little stick figure people getting crushed by giant boulders or shot down by jets or spaceships or an explosion of lava from a volcano all on the pages of my JW bible or other JW publications. As for art training I'm mostly self-taught. When I did art in school my teachers just left me alone. I took a couple of art classes at the local community college when I moved to Portland, and again was pretty much left alone to my own devices.<br />
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LW: Has your work always been so deliciously twisted?<br />
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JA: Aww thanks. I'd like to think so, but I doubt it. There was a good chunk of my childhood drawing lowriders and dinosaurs and Superman and Garfield and other safe comic book stuff. My mom told me that the first drawing I did for her was of a man falling off a building. Comic books are actually the gateway to my twisted stuff. I'd always see hints of nipples on the costumes of the lady characters, and as a kid they'd always give me chubbeez in my undeez. I thought if I could make my own art- porn that I could masturbate to I'd be the envy of all of my male classmates. I then had to learn how to draw nipples. We didn't have the internet in the early 90's so I had to glean everything about the female anatomy from R rated movies and porno magazines, and once that door was opened I was pretty much a fat kid in a candy store screaming for DIABETEEZ FO MY UNDEEZ! From the porn I learned about the male anatomy and where things went. Soon kids at school were asking me to draw sexually explicit pictures to jerk off to. It took a while, but I eventually got bored with sex drawings. From there things got weird.<br />
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LW: Do you have a particular outlook or philosophy behind your artwork?<br />
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JA: I strive to make something that hasn't been seen before, and to make it look good as I possibly can. Which Bizarro has given me ten-fold.<br />
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LW: Do you have a particular medium you prefer to work in, or do you have a large bag of tricks?<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZR1nbNOd2UE/VunCHaktTCI/AAAAAAAAC0I/A-Id2IGpW_AxJCdItRy-nstC5axvSyvxw/s1600/BOBROSS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZR1nbNOd2UE/VunCHaktTCI/AAAAAAAAC0I/A-Id2IGpW_AxJCdItRy-nstC5axvSyvxw/s320/BOBROSS.jpg" width="247" /></a>JA: I started out with no.2 pencils and crayons to pen and
ink to oils and acrylics. I'd have to say oils are my jam. I grew up on
Bob Ross. It always blew my mind as a kid to see him scratch his pallet
knife full of paint on the canvas and shwip shwip you've got a
mountain. As a kid I watched this and knew this is what I have to do. I
wanna go shwip shwip and make a giant vagina! For the book covers and
illustrations I've been solely using digital.<br />
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LW: When and how did you get into doing book and magazine illustration?<br />
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JA: One of my closest and oldest friends(Gaetano Evangelista) and I did an animated short for Tony Clifton where he murders a guy and diddles with his severed cock.<br />
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LW: WHOA! Hold on there! You just went from drawing pornographic cartoons for your friends to doing an animated film for Tony Clifton! Can you fill in the blanks a little bit??<br />
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JA: Yeah, years went by between drawing porn for friends and Tony Clifton. When I say I got bored drawing porn for friends it's because their ideas of porn were so boring and not Japanese enough. I mean they never wanted to add anything to it. It was always straight up porn, no tentacles or animals or something I deemed interesting. At 16-17 I felt drawing nudie pics needed something for it to pop, and at the time I just didn't know what or how. It took years of messing around and experimenting to get to where I wanted to be. I took up painting and got obsessed with color and technique, and all the masters and their works. I'd try to incorporate some of the ideas I'd seen from Bosch, Dali, Goya and Van Gogh. It's still an ongoing process. I'm still learning from them, but now I'm influenced by comic book artists too. The big two I try to steal from are Junji Ito and Robert Crumb. I could cum just from their cross hatching. Movies were a huge inspiration too. The biggest influence for me was Sergio Leone, Igmar Bergman, Fellini and Kurosawa. I was in my own world, developing my own style. <br />
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I painted a picture of Marilyn Monroe whose face was half melted, helping a goofy Jesus off the cross with the help from a tiny Hitler holding up my Darwin fish(a fish with legs, the front legs has hooves and the back legs has hands for feet and a monkeys tail) which was suckling on Jesus's teats. I have to say this painting gave me months of giggles. A friend of mine was getting married, and wanted a painting from me as a wedding gift. After some reluctance I finally did one. It was of my Darwin fish and a half man with a Hummingbird head and a dead astronaut holding up a Japanese flag. A mutual friend saw the painting and became obsessed with turning it into a cartoon. And there my friends, is the birth of Spacefish. After some convincing, we started work on it. I painted all the characters, and my partner started on background collages. We had like seven minutes worth before we kind of gave up. At that time my partner started to work the lighting at Tony Clifton shows. Wha???? Yeah, he's badass. He somehow convinced Tony to let us animate a segment of the show where Tony went off on a story during one of the songs. I think you can find that video on YouTube I think it's called "Tony Kills A Man". I'm not sure, but I think Tony still uses it in his live shows. It's fucking awesome.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JeEk8evyWqE/VunLeXDoMjI/AAAAAAAAC0o/I5sOkWFJmWgmrvCdLeVQPObLjDrApBRlQ/s1600/Spacefish%2BInvites.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JeEk8evyWqE/VunLeXDoMjI/AAAAAAAAC0o/I5sOkWFJmWgmrvCdLeVQPObLjDrApBRlQ/s320/Spacefish%2BInvites.jpg" width="192" /></a><br />
With the money from that, we got interested in doing a full length episode of something we had both been working on earlier which turned out to be Spacefish. We had done some clips of it (pre-Clifton) where all the characters had been hand painted in oils by me, which took a really fucking long time, then the animation alone and the computer rendering shit took forever. I had done the Clifton stuff entirely in primsicolor which was faster but murder on my hand and wrist. So when we got a producer and some funding to do Spacefish proper we got a bunch of cool equipment like an office in the pearl district downtown. We got other artists and writers and computers....and (cough cough) other stuff. I got a Wacom to do all the characters digitally which sped things up nicely. The writers turned out to be the power couple Cameron and Kirsten Pierce who Simon Ore our producer is a huge fan of and of the bizarro genre all together. I worked at the office when I could, and I got to witness these geniuses work on their craft. There were all these cool looking books lying all over the place in the office and I begged Cameron to let me do a book cover. I always wanted to do a book cover, and Cameron and Eraserhead finally relented. From there I've been involved ever since.<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qu-kbhEdFOA/VunMPfr0tkI/AAAAAAAAC0w/8GIsQ2Dxids0-G_WXKoDIp93pdJfrHNgg/s1600/UBS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qu-kbhEdFOA/VunMPfr0tkI/AAAAAAAAC0w/8GIsQ2Dxids0-G_WXKoDIp93pdJfrHNgg/s320/UBS.jpg" width="208" /></a><br />
LW: What was the first cover you did for Eraserhead Press, and how many covers would you say you've done for them?<br />
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JA: The first cover I did was Unicorn Battle Squad by Kirsten Alene. I think I've done around twelve more or less including the one I did for various imprints of Eraserhead.<br />
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LW: I know for my book, "Rock N Roll Head Case" you didn't read the book before you did the cover, yet you captured the spirit and essence of the book perfectly. What's the process like, creating a cover for a book you haven't read? How much guidance do you get?<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-11J-wkvHmc0/VunNJP328eI/AAAAAAAAC08/L1MVPyD6QrEqJxsN5xiP5KiQKaJlNwtjQ/s1600/weird%2Bstuff%25236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-11J-wkvHmc0/VunNJP328eI/AAAAAAAAC08/L1MVPyD6QrEqJxsN5xiP5KiQKaJlNwtjQ/s320/weird%2Bstuff%25236.jpg" width="320" /></a>JA: Sometimes it's pretty easy. The writer or editor will send me a description of what they want, and I'll try to come up with something that's as close as I can get to in the description. Sometimes it's a grueling back and forth where I end up yelling at my wife and kids, and punching the couch cushions. And tons of crying in the fetal position in the shower as blood from my ass flows into the drain. Most of the time it's pretty easy and fun! Rock N Roll Head Case was fun to do because I got to draw Alice Coopers head! His face alone was such a joy to draw with the backdrop of the cosmos and psychedelic colors and Andre the freaking Giant. I was sold.<br />
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LW: Do you have a preference for one type of output over another? Do you really like doing animation, or book covers, or commissions, or the freedom of just letting your imagination run wild?<br />
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JA: I like doing it all. Like everyone else, I feel like my balls tighten up nicely when doing my own stuff. I'm also a level 3 guitar and bass player.<br />
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LW: Do you have an online gallery or website where people can see more of your work?<br />
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JA: Yes, I have a blog where I haven't updated in a while at <a href="http://www.jimagpalza.com/" target="_blank">JIMAGPALZA.COM</a> .<br />
I also have a redbubble where you can get my stuff on things and shit.<br />
<a href="http://www.redbubble.com/people/jamesagpalza" target="_blank">Jim Agpalza on Redbubble</a><br />
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LW: Jim, this has been FANTASTIC chatting with you! I love your artwork, and I hope everyone else will find it as compelling as I do. This is truly Bizarro in spirit and form. Let's finish this profile with one more image. Thank you!<br />
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<br />NeverEndingWonderhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13508099645171572601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-26048652114591536232016-03-14T11:31:00.000-07:002016-03-15T14:00:28.073-07:006 Surrealist Films from Silent to Now, Some You May Not Know<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.1in; line-height: 120%; }</style>
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by Madeleine Swann<br />
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From <a href="https://youtu.be/-NqrwaxzP_U" target="_blank">The Seashell and the Clergyman</a> (1928) to the modern day, Surrealist films have
delighted and enraged in equal measure. To some they exist purely to make fun of those on the outside while to others they explore humanity via the subconscious. Perhaps they do both. They're strange, opaque and often have a mischievous sense of humour.</div>
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There are too many films and filmmakers to look at them all including <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean_Cocteau" target="_blank">Jean Cocteau</a>, <a href="http://christianecegavske.com/" target="_blank">Christiane Cegavske</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luis_Bu%C3%B1uel" target="_blank">Luis Bunuel</a>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guy_Maddin" target="_blank">Guy Maddin,</a> <a href="http://www.davidlynch.com/" target="_blank">David Lynch</a> and many, many more, but here's a few to get your evening off to a clock melting start.</div>
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1. <b>The Life And Death of 9413, A Hollywood Extra </b>(Slavko Vorkapic & Robert Florey, 1928). </div>
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<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slavko_Vorkapi%C4%87" target="_blank">Slavko Vorkapić</a> and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Florey" target="_blank">Robert Florey</a> - Serbian American and French American respectively - both made their marks in Hollywood, Florey directing The Marx Brothers' Cocoanuts among others and Vorkapić inventing the montage.</div>
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The story in Life and Death is quite easy to follow compared to others and seems old hat now, but at the time it must have been exciting to see a film mocking film making and exploitation. The mask imagery and forehead branding seem cliched but this is where those cliches stem from. Plus look at that actress' coat...it's gorgeous. </div>
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2. <b>The War of Jan-Ken Pon </b>(Shuji Terayama, 1971)</div>
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<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sh%C5%ABji_Terayama" target="_blank">Shuji Terayama</a> was a Japanese poet, writer, photographer and director. In 1967 he opened an experimental cinema and gallery called Universal Gravitation. </div>
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I could go all intellectual and say I like this film because of its depiction of war as a childish game, and I do, but really it's because it looks like something I and my friend Steve might do (though not as well of course). </div>
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The men's game of rock paper scissors devolves into a physical fight, which is absurdist and daft, but there is a serious side to it. Like Sarah
Kane's play <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blasted" target="_blank">Blasted</a> a couple of people enact everything that happens on a
large scale in war, but here there's more humour and less baby eating. Bomb and army sound effects play and a small crowd of onlookers - other countries who stand by without helping? - watch through the window.</div>
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3. <b>Last Year at Marienbad</b> (Alain Resnais, 1961)</div>
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<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alain_Resnais" target="_blank">Alain Resnais</a> began his career as a contemporary of the French New Wave directors, though never truly associated himself with the movement. </div>
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This beautiful film echoes Noel Coward's <a href="http://www.dramaonlinelibrary.com/plays/shadow-play-iid-15007" target="_blank">Shadow Play</a> and the yet to be made <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0338013/" target="_blank">Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind</a>, though in it's own very unique and very French way. </div>
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A couple drift through a grand building and it's estate (literally the corridors of memory), he convinced they met last year and she uncertain, both unable to remember what happened next and unsure of how to proceed. They analyse their past, present and future while apparently existing outside of it in some peculiar dream.</div>
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4. <b>Dreams That Money Can Buy</b> (Various, 1947)</div>
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A portmanteu of surrealist shorts held together by a connecting narrative, Dreams contains almost everyone we associate with the early <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surrealism" target="_blank">Surrealist movement.</a> Denounced by many at the time as inconsequential and shallow, it was an attempt to make surrealism more accessible to the general public.</div>
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Now, though, I think it stands up as an enjoyable film with a clear link to <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120601/" target="_blank">Being John Malkovich</a> (the scene where people crowd outside Joe's office to purchase a dream is too similar not to be an inspiration) and, if you don't feel it has a deep enough message, you can still appreciate it's beauty. </div>
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5. <b>Daisies</b> (Vera <span class="st">Chytilová, 1966)</span></div>
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<span class="st">Part of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Czechoslovak_New_Wave" target="_blank">Czech New Wave</a>, Daisies led to </span><span class="st"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/V%C4%9Bra_Chytilov%C3%A1" target="_blank">Vera <span class="st">Chytilová</span></a> being unofficially banned from making any more films in her home country until 1976 due to the anarchic behaviour of it's protagonists and the amount of food, "</span><span class="st">the fruit of the work of our toiling farmers," being wasted.</span></div>
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<span class="st">Two girls decide that as the world is rotten they should also become rotten, and the result is scene after scene of joyful mischief - they trick men, play up in bars, argue, make up and generally loaf around. It's done with an innocence that makes it devoid of malice, rather it's a celebration of seeing what they can get away with.</span></div>
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<span class="st">6. <b>The Dance of Reality</b> (Alejandro Jodorowsky, 2013)</span></div>
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<span class="st"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alejandro_Jodorowsky" target="_blank">Jodorowsky</a>'s latest film is a kind of autobiography, though one with an opera singing mother who urinates on her husband to cure his wounds. One of the things I love about his films is the recurring theme of circuses, a shorthand for outsiders and misfits, but in The Dance of Reality it's also a symbol of home and belonging.</span></div>
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<span class="st">It's probably, not to sound simplistic, his happiest film. </span><span class="st"><span class="st">Not to say it doesn't deal with big subjects like war and death and sadness, but i</span>t left me with a warm feeling and a sense of knowing him a little bit better, however true that is. </span></div>
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<span class="st">Well, there we have it my little slices of cherry pie served at the Twin Peaks cafe. Speaking of which, I'm going to leave you with a BBC documentary from 1987 of David Lynch discussing his favourite early surrealist films. I must warn you, the last minute has been chopped off, but you don't really miss anything. Toodle pip!</span></div>
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<i><span class="st">Madeleine Swann's novella, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rainbows-Suck-Madeleine-Swann/dp/1621052028/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1457979289&sr=8-1&keywords=rainbows+suck" target="_blank">Rainbows Suck,</a> was published as part of the 2015 New Bizarro Author Series. Keep up with her writing at her <a href="http://madeleineswann.com/" target="_blank">website</a> and her <a href="https://twitter.com/MadeleineSwann" target="_blank">twitter</a>.</span></i></div>
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MadeleineSwannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06477307302608800889noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-68860248076512561102016-03-12T10:05:00.000-08:002016-03-12T10:05:23.272-08:00Naked Metamorphosis - A review<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-top: 0.42cm; page-break-before: always; text-indent: 0.03cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Naked Metamorphosis
– Eric Mays</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O36kHBe_epQ/VuRZgDE7OXI/AAAAAAAAAJc/MzdFWguQzcMGrn-FZayxKRfJT0rzJPMTg/s1600/alas__poor_yorick_by_potus36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O36kHBe_epQ/VuRZgDE7OXI/AAAAAAAAAJc/MzdFWguQzcMGrn-FZayxKRfJT0rzJPMTg/s320/alas__poor_yorick_by_potus36.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">So, what would
happen if Hamlet had been written as a weird comedy? And what if it
hadn't been the Bard who wrote it, but Franz Kafka? </span>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vawGNiIb2XE/VuRaIGCCzKI/AAAAAAAAAJk/k1s6uemRcvMQxgUymze-4WecZji0Gnhsg/s1600/meta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vawGNiIb2XE/VuRaIGCCzKI/AAAAAAAAAJk/k1s6uemRcvMQxgUymze-4WecZji0Gnhsg/s320/meta.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', monospace; text-indent: 0.03cm;">The answer is Naked
Metamorphosis. Hamlet is a drug addled pampered prince who's
convinced he's turning into a cockroach, Ophelia has brain damage,
Polonius runs the kingdom, and the whole thing is seen through
Horatio's eyes! But wait, there's more. Puck's also about – popping
up from behind a handy door and screwing with everything. The rude
mechanicals are about too. MacBeth and Othello get an honorable mention, so this is a Bizarro tribute to Shakespeare not just the Dane. And not just that, Kafka also gets drawn into his own creation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I really enjoyed
this, let's get that out of the way first and foremost. This is one
of the original NBAS releases from 2009 and it's just plain old fun.
I have to admit, I'm a big Shakespeare fan, and especially Hamlet.
You might think this would make me hesitant for someone to muck
around with it, but nope. Have at it. You're up against Shakespeare,
but don't let that stop you. And Eric Mays does a fabulous job here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">It's screwy and fun.
There are the normal parts of Hamlet, the characters, the play within
a play. But there is new stuff in here too. Puck is a particularly
inspired choice, and I loved every time the crazy fairy turned up. </span>
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<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-top: 0.42cm; text-indent: 0.03cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Horatio is also a
good choice by Mays as our protagonist. He's our sensible anchor in a
sea of craziness. Although I personally would have loved to have seen
some of the big Hamlet speeches riffed on a bit more, but you can't
have everything.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">This book is
slightly straighter than some others in bizarro – that's not a bad
thing. It's a good introduction to the whole genre. It's also
slightly light on any emotional impact – Horatio is mainly confused
or exasperated, but I didn't feel the stakes were that high for him. But too be honest I'm having far too much fun with Puck to wonder
about the heavier meaning of life stuff which is absent or lightly
used.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">So, why should you
care? Well, apart from Eric Mays being a brother NBASer this book is
really fun. It's well written with some good imaginative ideas thrown
in, and Puck is the ace in the hole for this novella – if in doubt
throw on Puck to screw things up. </span>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">Overall, check it
out for some Shakespearean/Kafka twisted fun.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" class="western" style="margin-top: 0.42cm; text-indent: 0.03cm;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Metamorphosis-Eric-Mays/dp/1933929901/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1457792970&sr=8-1&keywords=naked+metamorphosis" target="_blank">Naked-Metamorphosis-Eric-Mays</a></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03275864230073773583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-59905331868797871432016-03-11T12:30:00.000-08:002016-03-11T14:12:42.564-08:00Surreal Sketchbook Selectionsby Betty Rocksteady <br />
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I've been filling pages with brain drippings since I could pick up a pen. I recently spend some time flipping through my stash of old sketchbooks and figured it was time to share some of this stuff with you guys! The drawings here span from 2011-2013, but rest assured I have plenty more to share if you wanna see 'em.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bibvg7iEe8k/VuMmxUjX0tI/AAAAAAAAAF0/7TV0ZDjjAkgGfWc5YqrWXPh57t59qSmJw/s1600/sketch2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bibvg7iEe8k/VuMmxUjX0tI/AAAAAAAAAF0/7TV0ZDjjAkgGfWc5YqrWXPh57t59qSmJw/s400/sketch2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
The page on the left is the kinda doodling I do when I'm thinking about a fuller drawing. I started with the nipple teeth and eyeball belly, and moved into the pose on the bottom that I ended up using on the next page.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-079j0EoJqR4/VuMmvMulfjI/AAAAAAAAAGI/ZoEoawXv6gQ760AvsfxGPqTleOWRFq1mw/s1600/sketch1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-079j0EoJqR4/VuMmvMulfjI/AAAAAAAAAGI/ZoEoawXv6gQ760AvsfxGPqTleOWRFq1mw/s400/sketch1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I drew this after I had a dream that my cat and I saw a really big snail.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MEraxWgUVDI/VuMm5wFgmXI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/-cJHDU15IiIFK2psxU16PVAjrSfL3uyBg/s1600/sketch6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MEraxWgUVDI/VuMm5wFgmXI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/-cJHDU15IiIFK2psxU16PVAjrSfL3uyBg/s640/sketch6.jpg" width="468" /></a></div>
If you can't read it, the text is a little limerick.<br />
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"There once was a girl who was dead,<br />
With eyes that were cloudy and red.<br />
A child full of life,<br />
She kidnapped with a knife,<br />
And nourished on mouldy old bread."<br />
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I have a sketchbook somewhere with tons of these weird little comics in it.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bdryUHOXuTs/VuMm3WGpBMI/AAAAAAAAAGI/mgfPM863n_EyZFuR9VTzyk9PFdyGWul6Q/s1600/sketch5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bdryUHOXuTs/VuMm3WGpBMI/AAAAAAAAAGI/mgfPM863n_EyZFuR9VTzyk9PFdyGWul6Q/s640/sketch5.jpg" width="446" /></a></div>
Little bit of yellow colored pencil here. I was really into gross yellow skies for a while. Yellow is the creepiest color.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4GHMEddi0D4/VuMmzaNZZuI/AAAAAAAAAGI/UDVt46K0z_4c0F1MdaRhtmrThorBMLyNg/s1600/sketch3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4GHMEddi0D4/VuMmzaNZZuI/AAAAAAAAAGI/UDVt46K0z_4c0F1MdaRhtmrThorBMLyNg/s640/sketch3.jpg" width="412" /></a></div>
Trying out watercolor wash. A friend of mine had lots of dreams of strange cryptid/aliens with antlers.<br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GAxxnGdeiqE/VuMm7gWTswI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/KAVqsIHGgI09jsbdkgeinMX73y9TET-pg/s1600/sketch7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GAxxnGdeiqE/VuMm7gWTswI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/KAVqsIHGgI09jsbdkgeinMX73y9TET-pg/s400/sketch7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
I actually don't remember drawing this one at all. Pretty sure this is how I was raised though.<br />
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Thanks for looking!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12311442612134010445noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3815170078352391350.post-90488743005307781292016-02-29T15:26:00.001-08:002016-03-03T17:20:15.946-08:00YouTube Curation: Teddy Has an Operation<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">by Karl Fischer</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">There's a video called <i>Teddy has an Operation</i>, which you may have heard about. Its creator, Zefrank1, is best known for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKffm2uI4dk"><i>Sad Cat Diary</i></a>, <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xw1C5T-fH2Y">Sad Dog Diary</a></i>, and the <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLOHbM4GGWADc5bZgvbivvttAuWGow6h05">True Facts</a></i> series, all of which are animal themed and comedic in nature. <i>Teddy Has an Operation, </i>which has the second mo</span></span></span><span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">st views of any of his videos, is something else entirely. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/AdYaTa_lOf4/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/AdYaTa_lOf4?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the video, a teddy bear undergoes an operation to fix whatever condition is ailing him. The doctor cuts him open one layer at a time and addresses each problem that he encounters. Meanwhile, Zefrank1 narrates the proceedings in his gentle, </span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">over-enunciated, </span><span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">ambiguously accented<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>voice.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first time I saw the video, I wept. I just blubbered uncontrollably, fat tears rolling down my face. It's worth noting that I was going through a profoundly difficult period at the time, but the sadness that the video elicited was almost sublime. So much pain and yet it was so goddamn beautiful.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">While the video has generated almost 17 million views, the majority of its audience seems to have <span style="font-family: inherit;">ignored </span>any potential nuance and gone straight to, "Ewww, are those REAL organs?!" Yes, gentle <span style="font-family: inherit;">Y</span>outube simpleton, those are real organ meats that he is cutting into. Now shut the fuck up<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>and let me explain why this is a beautiful portrait of anguish a</span></span>nd not just shock fodder for your fucking reaction videos.</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/LyWWcFY3DB4/maxresdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/LyWWcFY3DB4/maxresdefault.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How about you just eat a big old bag of dicks instead, you fucking parasite</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Teddy is a person rendered as a childlike object<span style="font-family: inherit;">. H</span>is physical operation is an abstraction of the mental <span style="font-family: inherit;">processes </span>taking place. Teddy's Bonbon Layer, the source of his sweetness, is filled with "unhealthy" bonbons. His Play Pouch is almost depleted of sprinkles. What we have is a bear who self-medicates. His depression is running him ragged<span style="font-family: inherit;">, unable to<span style="font-family: inherit;"> play<span style="font-family: inherit;">, unable to <span style="font-family: inherit;">truly enjoy things.</span></span></span></span> The doctor can treat these symptoms by removing the bad bonbons and adding more sprinkles, but <span style="font-family: inherit;">the <span style="font-family: inherit;">underlying cause<span style="font-family: inherit;"> behind all this must be identified</span></span></span>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The veneer of the plaything is stripped away and Teddy's viscera is laid bare. We come to his Crotch Unicorn - the manifestation of his imagination and sexuality, which are intact. The doctor says this a good sign indeed, for Teddy probably has a significant other. Sexual dysfunction in a relationship where a partner is struggling through mental illness is no goddamn joke. Teddy's gangrenous Kidney Crayons are then removed, allowing him to experience empathy for others once again, instead of just feeling sorry for himself. His Courage Sack is opened and we find it riddled with fear. Teddy is afraid, and the only cure is <span style="font-family: inherit;">to transmog<span style="font-family: inherit;">rify this fear<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;">into a more helpful </span></span></span></span>motivation - curiosity.<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;">It is <span style="font-family: inherit;">here that the <span style="font-family: inherit;">unusual ju<span style="font-family: inherit;">xtaposi<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">tion</span> of tone and imagery begins <span style="font-family: inherit;">to crystali<span style="font-family: inherit;">z<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">e<span style="font-family: inherit;">, forming the <span style="font-family: inherit;">port<span style="font-family: inherit;">rai<span style="font-family: inherit;">t</span> of a sick an<span style="font-family: inherit;">d an<span style="font-family: inherit;">xio<span style="font-family: inherit;">u</span>s patient<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">. It is not absurd, but <span style="font-family: inherit;">melanc<span style="font-family: inherit;">holy<span style="font-family: inherit;">, mindful<span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span></span></span></span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The last thing we <span style="font-family: inherit;">come to<span style="font-family: inherit;"> is Teddy's <span style="font-family: inherit;">H</span>ear<span style="font-family: inherit;">t<span style="font-family: inherit;">. <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Be<span style="font-family: inherit;">fore seeking treatment<span style="font-family: inherit;">, <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Teddy likely <span style="font-family: inherit;">doubted his own authenticity<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> as a sens<span style="font-family: inherit;">ate<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;">creature.</span></span></span></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">Irrational fear does horrible things to <span style="font-family: inherit;">a<span style="font-family: inherit;"> person and<span style="font-family: inherit;"> can take</span> on a life of its<span style="font-family: inherit;"> own</span>.<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Backed by <span style="font-family: inherit;">depression<span style="font-family: inherit;">, <span style="font-family: inherit;">anhedonia<span style="font-family: inherit;">, and </span>loss of empathy<span style="font-family: inherit;">,<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">relentless fear tells the mind that <span style="font-family: inherit;">the<span style="font-family: inherit;"> good<span style="font-family: inherit;"> feelings it seeks are not genuine<span style="font-family: inherit;">, that<span style="font-family: inherit;"> it has no love<span style="font-family: inherit;">, that it never <span style="font-family: inherit;">did<span style="font-family: inherit;">. It was only ever a construct<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">, one that was ke<span style="font-family: inherit;">pt alive</span> by coincidence and circumstance<span style="font-family: inherit;">. And now<span style="font-family: inherit;">, that circumstance is g<span style="font-family: inherit;">o<span style="font-family: inherit;">ne<span style="font-family: inherit;">, says the fear<span style="font-family: inherit;">.<span style="font-family: inherit;"> This is who you truly are and what you are <span style="font-family: inherit;">meant to e<span style="font-family: inherit;">xperienc<span style="font-family: inherit;">e. F</span>orever<span style="font-family: inherit;">. <span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Teddy's <span style="font-family: inherit;">H</span>eart <span style="font-family: inherit;">is<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;">un<span style="font-family: inherit;">deniable </span></span>pro<span style="font-family: inherit;">of that </span></span>the fear is wrong. "Look <span style="font-family: inherit;">how big it is<span style="font-family: inherit;">," says the narrato<span style="font-family: inherit;">r. "Look how much love Teddy has<span style="font-family: inherit;">." <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Contrary to his fears,</span> Teddy <span style="font-family: inherit;">harbors <span style="font-family: inherit;">an abundance of emotion<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">. And at <span style="font-family: inherit;">the center <span style="font-family: inherit;">of <span style="font-family: inherit;">all that emotion and love, <span style="font-family: inherit;">his <span style="font-family: inherit;">H</span>eart<span style="font-family: inherit;">'</span>s <span style="font-family: inherit;">H</span>eart<span style="font-family: inherit;">, <span style="font-family: inherit;">broken <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">by <span style="font-family: inherit;">a Bad Boy<span style="font-family: inherit;">, as the doctor reveals.<span style="font-family: inherit;"> "What did the <span style="font-family: inherit;">B</span>ad <span style="font-family: inherit;">B</span>oy do<span style="font-family: inherit;">, Teddy?" opines <span style="font-family: inherit;">the narrator<span style="font-family: inherit;">. "Oh<span style="font-family: inherit;">, Teddy." </span></span></span></span>The why of<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;">it all <span style="font-family: inherit;">is</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">not impor<span style="font-family: inherit;">tan<span style="font-family: inherit;">t, only th<span style="font-family: inherit;">at <span style="font-family: inherit;">a catalyst was buried deep inside<span style="font-family: inherit;">, le<span style="font-family: inherit;">ft to fester and <span style="font-family: inherit;">rot<span style="font-family: inherit;">.<span style="font-family: inherit;"> In itself<span style="font-family: inherit;">, the Bad Boy need not <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">represent <span style="font-family: inherit;">heartbreak, or even a person<span style="font-family: inherit;">. Me<span style="font-family: inherit;">morie<span style="font-family: inherit;">s</span> and <span style="font-family: inherit;">thought </span>processes build a tower inside us<span style="font-family: inherit;">, <span style="font-family: inherit;">and can </span>grow<span style="font-family: inherit;"> crooke<span style="font-family: inherit;">d<span style="font-family: inherit;">, sometimes losing support <span style="font-family: inherit;">and <span style="font-family: inherit;">causing great damage<span style="font-family: inherit;">. <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">M<span style="font-family: inherit;">emorie<span style="font-family: inherit;">s</span> cann<span style="font-family: inherit;">o<span style="font-family: inherit;">t</span> be r<span style="font-family: inherit;">eplaced<span style="font-family: inherit;">, but the unhelpful thought <span style="font-family: inherit;">processes which promulgate suffering can be<span style="font-family: inherit;">, as is with <span style="font-family: inherit;">Teddy when he is given a <span style="font-family: inherit;">"new child" <span style="font-family: inherit;">to love.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">T</span>he operatio<span style="font-family: inherit;">n is p<span style="font-family: inherit;">ronounc<span style="font-family: inherit;">e</span>d a success<span style="font-family: inherit;">. We end with Teddy in a hospital bed<span style="font-family: inherit;">, <span style="font-family: inherit;">stitched and dressed in bloody bandages<span style="font-family: inherit;">. The narrator says goodnight<span style="font-family: inherit;">, sweet and <span style="font-family: inherit;">sorrowful<span style="font-family: inherit;">. Teddy will be alrigh<span style="font-family: inherit;">t and so<span style="font-family: inherit;"> will we.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Karl Fischerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14874163385169816178noreply@blogger.com0