Arizona’s Crawdad Menace and Other Disturbing Observations

Caved-in-Shack, AZ—Something deeply disturbing is happening in Arizona.  No, I’m not talking about Janet Brewer, Immigration laws, or Mick Zano’s naked bar crawls….I’m talking about something reaaalllly disturbing.  Back when I was shelling out ten bucks a bag in New Orleans for mini-lobsters known as crawdads, how could I have known a few years later these same bastards would be on the verge of destroying my state’s ecosystem?

In case you are unaware, crayfish or crawdads are not native to the states west of the Rockies, like funding for education and the arts.  Over the years, scores of intrepid crawdads died trying to traverse the Rockies.  Most eventually gave up and settled in Denver to open microbreweries…very small ones, obviously, or micro-microbreweries.

In a similar manner to the republican migration, crawdads have crept into the southwest and have invaded our delicate ecosystem with their big trucks and their wild tea parties. These evil little beasts have infected the streams and lakes in every part of my home state—not to mention their racially charged immigration bills.

Similar to the red state’s pro-Christian stance, many of these crayfish were introduced through a misconception of facts. A statewide program for seventh-graders had the children studying these, nearly impossible to kill, cockroaches from hell. Then, at the end of the school year, in a truly misguided attempt at environmentalism, teachers had their students dump this destructive invasive species into every stream and pond across our fair state.  This is why eco-friendly people are often only slightly more devastating to our planet than the Sarah Palin’s of the world.  Hey, maybe Sarah can shoot crawdads from her chopper?

Once in our formally tranquil waters, these demonic (yet tasty) crayfish begin to devour everything in their path, much like laws enacted by our governor’s red pen.  Soon all aquatic life is killed off.  After this eradication comes the demise of all plant life. Without plants there is nothing to recycle to carbon dioxide other than algae—not to mention, there’s nothing to smoke. This turns clear streams and lakes into murky dark pools, where the crawfish now have no choice other than to eat each other in a dark cannibalistic frenzy, not dissimilar to Zano’s naked bar crawls.

As a follower of Yig, I find the loss of frogs and other amphibians across our state the most depressing aspect of this crustacean invasion. Even the most selfish swimmer cannot be enjoying a wade into the murk with crawfish nipping at your toes, unless they’re trying to save money on a pedicure.

So what can we do to stem the tide of evil and death that is sweeping over the west? The answer is simple. All crawfish must be boiled alive and eaten, preferably with butter sauce.  Boil that crayfish, boil that crayfish. Boil! Boil!  Devour those selfish shellfish, munch on those crusty-aceans, cook those lobster mobsters, can those crabby…I’m being told to stop.

It is only fitting that we, the species responsible for started this plague, sacrifice our time to eat as many of these delicious morsels as possible. It’s a rough job, but sometimes sacrifices must be made. And, if such sacrifices involve eating endless piles of buttery white meat that tastes like lobster, then so be it.

Leave no stone unturned!  (Literally.)

So, my fellow Americans, pick up your nets, your traps, your spears, and maybe some of those concealed handguns, and let’s go crawdadding!  Book your Coconino County Crawdad Chopper Safari with Alex Bone today!

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Dionysus Hedoism

Are we truly Free

It doesn’t seem like it when people try to control Me

Who is to say what is right or Wrong

How can something be bad if our longing is Strong

As long as it hurts no Others

At least not our kind sisters and Brothers

If this be the Case

Then get those rules out of my Face

Those that get in my Way

Might be brought to Pay

Why are we here other than to feel Good

There is more to life than just doing what we Should

There are pleasures I’m going to Take

Because I deserve a fucking Break

So screw, get high, nip and Tuck

For tonight I enter Baccanaght

So let wondrous experiences flow over Me

I embrace my joy and find myself forever Free

Learn more about Heroic Archetypes here!

A Clone of a Different Color Part II

A face that always smiled upon his return greeted Dak. Moving with habit more than thought, he flung his jacket over a kitchen barstool and headed toward his girl. He couldn’t be sure if it was the events of the day, but he became fully conscious of the fact that even though the lips he kissed felt soft, full, and very female, the person who kissed him was really a male, at least on the inside.

Dak wouldn’t call himself gay. He had never touched another male in such a manner. However, during the case he had so recently spoke to his fellow officers about, he had come into contact with a male who had Skinjumped into a ravishingly beautiful female. He had not known it at the time or even while he’d experienced the best sex of his life. Through no fault of his, her identity had been raveled and she had been not only put back into her real and very male body, but also put behind bars for a very long time. But for Dak it was already too late.

He was hooked. No sex had ever been better. Since they knew what felt the best themselves, they gave it willingly. While some women accept their role with a lackluster performance, these Gender-Jumpers went at sex with a wild abandon, which Dak never tired of. At home, in an effort to prove themselves a match for any true woman, they always cooked and cleaned his apartment until it shined. And the clothes, these Jumpers dressed in what men wished women always wore.

Since his first a little over three years ago, Dak had been only dating Gender-Jumpers. He tried a normal gal again once, but became bored as soon as her had gotten her in bed. Yes, he was hooked, but looking down at his Erin’s perfect face he thought, what a way to go.

“How was your day,” she purred. Like most Skinjumpers who jumped gender, Erin tended to exaggerate her feminine nature. Maybe it was one of the many reasons he liked her so much. He had issues, so what?

“We had a serious crime involving Gender-Jumpers.” It might have been the only thing that he could have said that would cause her to drop her role. They played it safe. Erin didn’t even work outside of the few modeling gigs she did under the table. If she was ever discovered, they could both be sent away for a long time.

 

She retreated to an arm’s distance suddenly serious. Despite her sensuous voice, he thought he could detect the man within her for the first time in months. “Tell me what happened?”

“It’s common knowledge all over the Vid.”

“You know I can’t stand watching those lies.” She always had been a reader.

“From the looks of things, four upscale Hitters Skinjumped into a gaggle of hot little numbers and then proceeded to waste new major hopeful Felix Homes.”

Her big eyes grew wide making it easier to accept her as female again. “Mayor Edgar hates Jumpers. He’ll use this as an excuse to hunt us down.”

She was getting excited and words began to tumble from her mouth mixing chaos, conjecture, and paranoia. “Erin it’s alright. I’m on the case. I’ll take care of it.”

“It’s not okay. This is a double win for that fat freak. He loses the competition and gets to blame us for it. I hate that bastard.”

“He’s not my favorite guy. I’m not too worried about it, but let’s have you lay low for a while okay,” he said, while his hand began massaging her shoulder.

“Maybe I should jump back until this is over,” she said looking into his eyes.

He felt a tight pull in his groan. He had been living with Erin over a year now. They had been sharing a bed nearly every night for longer than that. She was the third Gender-Jumper he had dated and by far the most wonderful. “No,” he blurted out. The idea of her becoming a man again disturbed him on more levels than he cared to count.

Seeing the disturbed look on his face made her smile. She moved in running her long fingers across his face. “Why would you miss me?” He could feel her warmth. She smelled like lavender.
Her lips were near his. “Yes.”

“I could still stay over.”

“It would not be the same.”

“Why because I would have one of these?” Her other hand gave his member a squeeze to emphasize the point. Her mouth paused next to his ear. “Do you only like me for my body.”

“I can’t live without my Erin just the way she is.” These words satisfied her and she allowed him his kiss and soon she allowed him so much more.


Find out more about Dak, Erin, and the rest of the Skinjumpers here!

Carnival of Blood Part III

Finding some solace in the giant dagger he grasped tightly within his right hand, Jack rushed through the open door and entered the Haunted Funhouse. The stygian darkness enveloped him like a crashing glove. Already, he wondered why any normal person would have continued, but this question became quickly answered when the iron doors slammed shut behind him with a loud echoing clang.

“No way but forward now,” he whispered under his breath.

Within a few yards, the darkness was lanced with glowing bones. Skulls and shattered human rib cages hung and slowly spiraled in the void of black. They had the luminance of children’s toys, but appeared wet and dripped whatever created their glowing property. Small pools of bruised green splattered onto the unseen floor to create small pools.

Soon, the smattering of hanging bones grew thicker. Before long, Jack was forced to shoulder his way through them. The clinging glowing liquid, they had perhaps been dipped into, came away on his hair and clothes. A splash hit the back of his hand and sizzled the hairs off his wrist. “Son of a…” His jacket began to smoke and Jack found himself ducking lower as he hurried through the swarm of bones.

That was when something connected with his ankles and his body pitched forward. Despite his wishes, the unexpected fall caused him to lose the grip on his dagger and he plummeted into some sort of black pit. 

His fall was halted by hundreds of round objects and it took him a few seconds to realize he had fallen into a pile of plastic balls not unlike those designed for kids to enjoy in children oriented restaurants and the like. As soon as he had hit the balls, a swirling cluster of multi-colored lights had erupted over his head. Blues and reds mixed with dark greens and deep purples.

Jack’s first thought became concern over his missing dagger. Dropping lower, his hand tried to fish under the balls for his lost weapon. In order to reach the bottom, he was required to dip his head below the chest high pile of balls. He found this unsettling. The lights were also disturbing. They seemed to make his eyes blur and his scalp tingled like two dozen spiders dancing there.

So far his search for the dagger had proved useless. He considered leaving it there, but his weapon supply was already so minimal that he had no wish to give up too easily.

The searching grew more frantic. He turned in circles scrambling for his war dagger of Yig. As he searched, he thought he heard the sound of scraping behind him. It grew in volume and part of him didn’t want to look, as though if he didn’t look he wouldn’t have to be forced to admit something lurked there.

Instead, he drew a throwing knife and whipped around. A shape rose out of the pile of filthy balls. At first it looked like nothing more than a pyramid of balls collected over the top of the pile, but these began to topple away revealing a jagged faced clown. It had small pig eyes buried within a sea of thick creamy makeup. Red lips formed a humorless smile, which contradicted the sick laughter that started to pour out of the horrid thing. A torn rainbow of colors followed as its oversized polyester outfit could be seen. Seconds later, he raised his hand and Jack saw the thing held his war dagger.

 

“Lucky thing I don’t have a clown phobia,” Jack said, while he struck a battle pose. When the laughter continued, he added, “So it looks like you’ll get to be the first one of your kind to die tonight.”

Then it was on.

The clown lunged at him with his dagger in the murder poison. The creature loomed large and came at him like a runaway train. Jack tried to move to the side, but the balls made normal maneuvers almost impossible. He managed to dodge the swipe of the dagger, but the air was smashed from his lungs by the Xemmoni crashing into him.

Jack lost his footing and when down. The balls covered over his face and he had the sensation of drowning as one of the clowns hands held him under, while the other stabbed down at him again and again.

For once the balls helped him for the first two stabs impaled the balls instead of his flesh, but the third slashed Jack in the shoulder. His jacket took the blunt of the blow, but a red line of pain tore down his left arm.

“Screw this,” he said and dragged the edge of his throwing dagger across the freak’s left wrist like he was training him on how to become a border-line.

The clown drew his hand away, even if it did keep laughing.

Instead of fighting the thing, Jacket went low, almost like he was swimming along the bottom of a pond. His left hand grabbed a fistful of the Xemmoni’s costume and he hamstrung the villain a second later.

It still laughed. 

As it toppled back into the balls, Jack hamstrung the other ankle for good measure. He gasped in frustration when the clown pulled away and he lost his grip. Jack hurried to stand up, but like a man seeking a crocodile under water in the darkness, of the evil clown there was no sign, until his own dagger was stabbed deep into the back of his left calf. Jack cried out as he spied a doorway to his right.

He hurried toward it as the manic clown crawled after him. Disturbed balls rolled in odd patterns and the clown remained on his heels as he struggled through the spheres. The thing stabbed him two more times, but he was finally able to fight his way free of the balls.

The clown emerged a few seconds later. “I’m ready for you now, you bastard,” Jack yelled before driving his throwing knife deep into the crawling fiend’s eye. Leaving his knife there, Jack snatched up his war dagger and stumbled away from the dying clown.

To be continued next Monday

Find out how Jack’s Adventures Started Here!

Screams, Knives, and Teeth

Mitch let his wife cower from the terror of the children’s screams for a moment, until he realized that all the madmen that surrounded their car were being drawn toward the horrific feast.

 

 

Jerking upright, he grabbed Bonnie by the shoulders, “We have to move now! I know this is terrible, but it could be our only chance. We need to make it past these ghouls to the fence.”
When she made no move to go, he unlocked the doors, and then grabbed up his butcher knife. “I’m going to run to your door,” he said. “Be ready to go.”
Leaving all their other supplies behind, Mitch slammed the door open. It collided with one of the blood covered freaks and sent it tumbling off its feet.
A big man, who was missing half his face and big chunks from his neck, had been approaching the dying children, but turned his attention toward Mitch. With a throaty growl, it lunged at him.

Mitch cried out and punched forward with the dagger. It took the man in the chest, but he just kept coming. The thing went to grab Mitch, but he backed up until his ass connected with the opened door.
“Go!” He screamed at his wife. His hand clamped on the bigger man’s wrists but the cannibal had entered a manic fury.
“I won’t leave you!”
“Just get over the fence. I’ll be right behind you.”
The man’s teeth snapped together, with a loud click, just inches from his nose. “Son of a…” he growled, but then the handle of his own knife hit his chin painfully. “Bastard!” he screamed, as he yanked the knife free of the broad chest.
He jerked his arm back and stabbed forward just as the man moved in for another attack with his teeth. The knife stuck deep into the eye socket and Mitch was surprised how quickly he collapsed. But two more of the murderous things rushed at him.

He had no choice but to jump back into the car and slam the door. It was distressing to find his wife hadn’t moved an inch and he glared at her as the first fists slammed into his already blood covered window.
“I told you to go. Now you’re going to have to head out first. I can’t open this door.”
“I can’t.”
“Damn it,” he said, but refused to waste any more time. He hurled his body over into the back seat and was just opening the back door on the passenger side when the driver’s door opened.
Oh no! I forgot that I left it unlocked!
Before the horror of his mistake could even sink in, the two flesh eaters that had confronted him poured into the car. Instead of trying to escape through her door, Bonnie screamed. In that lost second, they were upon her. Mitch’s face contorted in pain as her screams reached a higher volume when the first bite full of flesh was violently torn from her arm.

The Story continues next Saturday!


You can find out more about the Eternal Aftermath here!

Explore the horror of Arizona's Bonefoot if you dare! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lA92OHnfuTg

Come check our first official Video from The Daily Discord.

And Discover Arizona's own Bigfoot!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lA92OHnfuTg

 

Carnival of Blood

As Jack walked into the frigid carnival some of his fears lessened if only slightly. Men huddled in the back of their booths like any normal human would on such a bitter night. Jackets were hugged tighter over narrow frames and hats pulled lower as another strong breeze blew through the mobile amusement park.

One of Jack’s fonder memories of his deceased father was when he had taken him to carnivals like this. But everything here seemed to be backwards. Jack had always run through the day from ride to ride as the warm sun blessed the summer afternoons. Here, his boots crunched over hard sheets of ice and if it weren’t for the brightly swirling lights, the abandoned parking lot would have been plunged into complete darkness.

No one seemed to eye him as he passed like Xemmoni tended to do with a Stalwart in there midst. The carnival didn’t seem more decrepit that any one the other dozen of its kind Jack had seen. Maybe this is a normal carnival, he thought to himself. It could be they’re from further north and are just trying to raise some gas money as they head south into warmer climes. Still, as another blast of icy wind tore at him he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something dark lingering under the surface.

On a whim, he sent out his Detect Darkening ability. A low lever of taint lingered, but this could usually be expected at any place like this that harbored criminals and outcasts. Jack didn’t have to time to hunt down everyone on the run from the cops or delinquent in their child care payments. His thoughts returned to his empty wallet. From the looks of things, these folks wouldn’t have much cash to spare, but even twenty dollars should be enough to get him to the next town, which would hopefully accept his debit card.

His meandering took him closer to the Haunted Funhouse. He figured he should check it out before he started looking around for the owner—just in case. Right away, he noticed something different about the carnie standing outside of the gloomy place. Unlike the others, he didn’t cower from the cold. Quite the opposite, this man only wore a maroon smoking jacket and an old felt top hat. His thin face was graced with an even thinner goatee. The man regarded Jack as he drew near.

If anyone is Darkened, it will be this guy, Jack thought as he neared the man.

Behind the man, the Haunted Funhouse stretched to almost impossible heights. Jack guessed that it must have been nearly five stories high. The shadow covered greys mixed with blacks on its surface that was designed to look like a house built into the side of a rocky mountain. Only the blaring red neon illuminated any part of it, while also bathing the area before it in a sea of dull reds.

“Care to test your bravery?” The man asked with a wolfish grin.

“That’s about the only thing in the world, I don’t need to do.” Jack brought up his Detect Darkening again, but for some reason it wasn’t functioning, which created a red flag for him about the size of Texas.

“Don’t tell me a Stalwart would be afraid,” then man said and then laughed.

“Who are you?”

“Who I am is of little importance to you compared to how many innocents I’ve fed to the Funhouse, I’d think.” The man wasn’t smiling now. Instead his eyes glowed the same dull red that covered the area around them.

“You son of a bitch.”

“My ancestry is also of little import. If I were you, I’d attempt to save what innocents you can before the ride devours them.” As the carnie spoke, the door to the Haunted Funhouse opened with a long loud crack. The insides of the place looked jet black.

“Maybe I’m just knock the teeth out of your head first…” Jack began, but as his eyes moved from the gapping doorway, he discovered the man had disappeared. Seconds later, a shrill scream sounded from above. Jack gazed up just in time to have drops of blood paint his face. He stepped back quickly as something thudded on the ground only feet before him.

It made a wet smack and then bounced two times before rolling to a stop near where the carnie has so recently stood. The red lights flooded the scene with a thick scarlet haze, but Jack could still make out that it was a severed female head that lay before him. Her once blonde hair spidered out in blood soaked dreadlocks and her eyes held unspeakable horror.

He patted his jacket finding some solace in feeling his extra throwing knives and the small hatchet he had stashed there. “Didn’t even bring any bigger weapons,” he grumbled, as he drew his war dagger from his belt. Another shriek sounded. “Screw it,” he cursed and than after a final glance as the nearly deserted carnival, he rushed through the open door of the Haunted Funhouse and plunged into the darkness.

To be Continued Next Monday!

Learn more about how Jack’s Adventures Started Here!

Cars, Cannibals, and Madness

This is part two in a mini serial that began 5/18/13
Mitch gave the bloody hands slapping the outside of his car a final glance, squeezed his wife’s hand, and then started the car. Being trapped in a traffic jam limited his options, but he figured he had about three-feet between the car before them as well as the vehicle trapping him in from behind.

 

“Brace yourself.”
Mitch put the car into reverse and then slammed on the gas. The sounds of snapping bones and bursting flesh assaulted their ears. Without hesitation, he threw the car into drive and slammed on the gas again. He crushed the legs of three more of the horrid things between his car and the car before them.
“Mitch wait! I see waving. There are people in the car before us. Mitch, they’re kids. I think they’re alone. We have to help them.”
“Bon, we’ll be lucky if we can save ourselves.” Looking out the smeared side window, he saw some of the wounded freaks he had damaged crawling like mangled insects along the ground. “Why aren’t they dying or even feeling the pain?”
“I don’t know, but the kids want our help. What are we going to do?”
“Hell if I know.”
Looking out the blood streaked window again, he saw that although he had crippled several of the moaning things, his attack had only drawn more to replace them. They were stuck in the right lane of a four lane east/west road. Currently it would be impossible for him to drive his car out of the traffic jam.

He took in the kids banging on the window in the SUV before them. They were around eight or ten, probably brother and sister. They terrified faces begged at him with their eyes.
“There parents must have thought they’d be safer in there while they went to get help,” Bonnie said.
He wanted to reply, ‘from who?’ but figured being negative wouldn’t serve anyone. Then he spied something. The space to the right of the car that held the children looked empty. Beyond it, a chain link face surrounded a school yard. The other side looked free of those things.
He flinched when a half fleshless face slammed against the windshield only inches from him. “Bonnie do you see what I see?”

 

The meaty slaps of the gathering madman almost drowned out her words. “That horrid face? What’s happening?”
“No, next to the kid’s car. There’s an open space and beyond that there’s a fence. If we made it to the other side of the fence, we might be able to get away from this road of death.”
“Maybe their car still has the keys in it,” she said as new tears rolled over her flushed cheeks. “If we backed up as much as possible and could get in there, we might just be able to drive away on the sidewalk and not have to worry about climbing that fence. Besides it’s like eight-feet high. How could those kids make it and we can’t carry them on our backs.”
Dozens of fists and mouths pressed against the car reminding them of the impossibility of both plans. Mitch clenched his teeth and grabbed up the blood-slick butcher knife. “Try to see if you can get the kids to let us know if they have the keys to their car. I’m going to crack the window in case they can hear me.”
Before she could say no, Mitch lowered the window an inch. Fingers groped through the space and even teeth scrapped along its edge. Mitch went to work cutting and slicing anything the knife could reach. With a sting of curses, he went berserk on the flesh. Fingers dropped to the floor of the car spraying blood in jagged circles as the fell.
Leaning closer to the opening, he yelled, “Do you kids still have the keys to your car?”
One of the windows in their car lowered and they shouted, “Yes, yes! Dad left the keys.”
“What, oh no,” Bonnie cried. “I think they rolled it down too far.”
Mitch froze when he saw she was right. Hands reached into the children’s car and the children cowered away with shrill screams. The gory figures went crazy and fought to force their way into the car. One of them tugged back on the window and with a loud snap it broke away.

Bonnie screamed when the madman flooded into the car. Seconds later, the children’s screams took on a brighter level of terror and pain. He barely noticed when the fingerless freaks drew away from his window to join in their cannibalistic feast. Mitch mindlessly rolled the window back up and held Bonnie as she cried hysterically.


The Story continues next Saturday!

You can find out more about the Eternal Aftermath here!