Lock Down, Bite Down Part V

Sheriff Dells rushed into his station with Becca, Mickey and Bill on his heels. At once the lingering stench and a loud groan reminded him of the prisoner he had locked into a cell an eternity ago. It had quickly become the most devastating day of his career, but with two of his deputies already dead and his town in danger, he didn’t have time to let his thoughts linger on the raging unpleasantness of his current situation.

“What the hell is that?” Becca demanded. “Shoot that freak in the head!”

“I know that guy,” Bill said. “He’s that UPS fella from Tucson.”

“Not anymore he isn’t,” Becca said while looking out the window.

“Don’t worry, young lady,” Dells said. “I believe you when you say these people are gone. You don’t just shoot a normal person in the heart and have them keep walking toward you. But for now, I want to keep him around. We might be able to learn something from him.”

“You mean, it,” she said.

Mickey spoke, his voice louder than Dells had ever heard the man. “Can we do something? I just saw two people from my church just get shot in the head. She said her brother is dead. If we don’t get our shit together, more people we care about will die.”

Dells felt ashamed that the man had spoken words that should have come from his mouth.  The Sheriff nodded and said, “You’re right. Follow me.” As he unlocked the gun cabinet, he noticed that not only Bill, but Becca had followed him as well.

He handed Mickey a shotgun. While the second shotgun passed from his hands to Bill’s, he said, “Remember this means you’re officially deputized and I’ll expect you to be following my lead to the letter.”

“I know you aren’t thinking about not giving me a gun,” Becca said over her clenched fists.

He eyed her. Despite how foolish his logical mind said he was being, he handed her a pistol without argument. “I’ll give you this, but leave the safety on until I tell you otherwise.”

Her stare met his, but she said, “Unless I’m about to get chewed on, okay.”

Dells asked Mickey to hand out ammunition while he dialed a secure line that connected them to the Tucson headquarters.

After a nearly endless series of rings, a loud voice answered. “What!”

“This is sheriff Dells from San Miguel and we need immediate support.”

The man on the other end actually laughed. “Yeah, good luck with that. Do you know what is happening out there?”

“I have some idea. Everyone coming up here from your city is going crazy.”

More inappropriate laughter sounded. “You’re behind the times, my friend. The whole world has gone mad and the dead are eating the living.”

Dells started to say something, but the phone went dead. “Son of a bitch!”

“What?” Mickey asked.

Dells ignored him. “Come on we have to go.”

That was when Becca’s brother ran into the station with his arm wrapped in a red stained shirt.

His glaring eyes looked at them from over a pallid face. “They’re coming!”

A new Eternal Aftermath Story begins next Saturday!

You can find out more about the Eternal Aftermath here!

SJ and The Shovel Begins

Knucklehead’s Note:

In October of 2008 and English Writer Named Sarah Jane Higbee and Myself quite randomly, and with no real intention to do so, began a back and forth series of forum posts. If you asked me now, I couldn’t even tell you how or why they began, but it happened and even today SJ and I are still writing bizarre fiction together. So sit back and enjoy the beginning of SJ and the Shovel. I should also probably add that new members of the forum were stable hands and that is how the idea of having a shovel started.

SJ: My shovel… You mustn’t forget the shovel. Especially as I polished it, today. Again…


Mike: Hey you were supposed to turn that in.

I keep telling you that. Now the next new guys is going to have to use his hands and that is just nasty.
SJ: Not necessarily… After a while I used my hands – after my shovel whispered to me that he didn’t want to get dirty anymore.

Mike: Ok SJ. We’ve all come together here today to talk about your shovel. We’re your friends and we just wanted to first let you know that we are all here for you, but we also all think you and the shovel have been spending way too much time together. I think it is time for you to start leaving the shovel in the barn.

SJ: Noooo… It’s a SHY shovel. It doesn’t want any attention – other than mine of course. I’m the ONLY one that truly understand his needs and wants… And he DOESN’T want to spend another lonely and unloved night in the barn. HE NEEDS MEEEEEE…

Mike: Okay I have a plan, TA show her a drawing while CW distracts her with chocolate, then I am going in and trying to get that darn shovel.

Crystalwizard: That won’t work at all, Mike. The problem is, you see, that S.J. had that shovel surgically attached.

Mike: The Horror, The Horror

This is getting more complicated. We either been to find a surgeon or just little him forfill his destiny and become Lord OfThe Shovels. King of the Stables. Master of the Barn.

Just be careful going camping, people might ask to barrow the shovel when they have to do their business and that could get even more complicated.

SJ: want to know – who ratted me out to CW about Shovel and me and our little op??? Which we prefer to think of as a BONDING procedure, by the way.

And Mike – WHAT makes you think anyone is ever going to get anywhere near Shovel to dig holes? He prefers to express his creativity in OTHER more meaningful ways. And chocolate won’t do it, either… Shovel is allergic.

Mike:
Welllllllll…

We do have some nice rooms in the hospital where we work for people with ‘special’ attachments. But I think you should just become the Lord of Shovels Like I said. You shovel doesn’t have to get dirty then, you could just rule over the other shovels and make them do at the work. Would you be okay with that?

Now if you can just take these nice pills for me we can talk about it some more on the unit. The people in there are really nice. You’ll like them. Come on, it is just a few small pills. There are called Zeprexa and help people relax.

Turn in next week and meet Little Wax Head BOY!

Check out more of my Writing here!

Base Jumper

It became hard to keep from gawking like a kid in a toy store. Dak had seen his share of tech, but nothing compared to this. Large steel machines, shaped like opened coffins, gapped hallow and bubbling. He had already seen three holding half-formed people.

He thought about how his Erin had been forced to go through this and shuddered.

Mace, the man who he had thought was Fosters for so long, led the tour. Gone was the frame of the old detective. In its place a handsome young man stood. If Dak focused hard enough he could she some similarity in some of the mannerisms, but Foster’s fifty-year-old body was a far cry from this tattoo covered PR with a half shaved head.

Perhaps seeing his eyes lingering on the ink, Mace said, “Do you like the work? Tattoos are of course one thing that doesn’t pass with you when you Jump.” He smiled. “I figure this way I can get new work every year. Pretty wicked eh?”

Dak didn’t comment. Instead he took in a painting that illustrated a happy man jumping off a skyscraper rooftop. The figure’s right hand was raised over his head in a fist. “What’s this?” he said pointing at the painting with his smoke.

With a bigger smile, Mace said, “Base jumping. Our group’s founder was known as Titan. He was quiet found of base-jumping. Some even think this is where the name for our kind began.”

Holding his arm tight, Erin looked up at him her green eyes blinking. Her dress was a skintight strip of red cloth smaller than his towel. As always, her body was slim. Shapely. Perfect. “Titan tended to be more than a bit on the reckless side. But he was insanely wealthy. He would lose a leg in some failed stunt and just Jump into a new healthy clone.”

Pressing herself closer to him, she went on. “Back in his day we were almost accepted. Normal. He was only using his own body though. We would hardly even consider that Jumping now. He however, was the first of the immortals.”

“Until that parachute did not open.”

To his left two Grafters were helping an elderly man into one of their coffins. Noticing his gaze, Mace commented. “People will give all they have for a second chance.”

Nothing more needed to be said. It became very clear why these Jumpers always seemed to have almost unlimited funds. Having Erin finally be honest about her own wealth hadn’t been the worst thing to have ever happened to him. That along with the small sum he took from the Jumpers had definitely increased his standard of living.

Passing a middle aged woman as she stripped off her clothes, he managed to overhear her say, “Make sure I’m really pretty. I want to be really pretty. I’ll see if the prick is cheating on me first hand.”

Mace laughed, but waited until they were well pass to say, “Most people don’t want to leave their lives, but a weekend of Jumping can accomplish more goals than one can count. Athletes in peek form are selling their bodies so novices have a chance to play their favorite games like the pros. And of course there’s always the perversion factor, but you and Erin know about that.”

He felt his cheeks grow hot. “Is there a reason for us to be here other than for you to be showing of like some sort of punk priss?” 

Chuckling, “You’re always so touchie Dak. It seems that even Evan I mean Erin-“

Dak moved quickly. A necklace was grasped and he pulled Mace’s face close to his. “I told you that you weren’t allowed to call her that.” Words spit from between his teeth. “I don’t care how many bodies you’ve been in, I can kick your ass. Insult my girlfriend again and I will.”

“Calling him by his name is an insult?”

He barely got the words out before Dak gave him a hard right hook into the jaw.

Erin gasped and rushed forward. “Dak, you shouldn’t” A reproach from Erin made him cringe. All around him Jumpers took notice. They dropped what they were doing and walked closer. Most had weapons.  

Mace stood erect. A pull of the arm drew a smudge of blood from his lips. He waved the approaching Jumpers back. “No it’s okay. He loves his Gender-Jumper. I think It’s cute.”

“Screw you Mace.” Erin gave him a glare that made Dak wonder how well they might really know each other. 

“Shall we just keep moving?” Mace asked as once again he wiped his mouth free of blood. He shot Erin a glance which did nothing to soften the mood. “And yes you’re correct you were brought here for a reason.”

The butt of his cigarette still glowed as Mace threw open a wide set of polished steel doors. The insides of the room contrasted strongly with everything else he had seen at Base Jumper. He could have been stepping back three centuries. Bookcases lined the dark hued walls. Never had he seen such a collection of books outside of a museum.  Since the advent of the computer over two centuries ago, books had been coming ever rarer. Most publishing houses had closed within a hundred years. Books were now considered oddities and collector’s items. 

Centered amongst the vibrate rainbow of book spines was a walnut desk that could have fit three people. Instead an annoyingly young blonde boy was just putting aside a folder. This was added with not great haste to an already considerable pile stacked to the left of him. The boy looked perhaps seventeen at the most, but Dak guessed that the mind within was by far his own senior. His crystal blue eyes had a tight glare that no youth of that age could have pulled off.

“This is The Doctor,” Mace began. “For lack of a better term, you may consider him our leader.”

“More of s spokesman really.” His tone was one of wisdom and experience, but as if from the lips of an angel. It came out musical and tinged with the strength of a fresh voice. Leaning forward, the youth said, “But please call me Maxwell.”

Dak nodded, he had no reason to speak. Erin gave a courtly curtsey, which was something he would have never thought he would see.

A slim smile spread. “I’m sure you consider your life as busy as mine and as my employees, I assume you are keeping yourselves active.” This wasn’t even worth a nod. “So I will be blunt and brief.”

“Someone has been hired to assassinate Jumpers.” He paused for a moment to let his statement sink in. “Whatever is doing this is a professional and very successful.” Erin’s nervous eyes met his and she trembled. “He has already racked up fourteen of us and those are just the people we know of.

Maxwell stopped. Keeping his voice even, Dak asked, “Do you have any idea who might be behind the attacks?”

“I think it’s the Major,” Mace answered for him.

The Doctor favored him with a stern look. Dak had a feeling he wasn’t used to being interrupted. “Yes, Mace thinks it is the Major and it well could be, but my years of experience have led me to believe that it is not always the most obvious choice. There are always the Nappies to consider.”

Dak thought on this. Nappies was a derogatory term for The National Association of Parents. The supposedly moral body of citizens had their hands in more than anyone considered safe. As a legislating body they could make or break elections. Dak considered them foul self-righteous censors, but working for the Public Enforcers he had often found himself being asked to bend to some policy they were promoting.

“It doesn’t sound like Nappies, they don’t hire assassins, they hire lawyers.”

A short chuckle escaped from Mace, and Maxwell smiled without humor. He addressed Erin first. “It seems you have been keeping your mate in the dark my dear. Dak works for…I mean with us now.”

“Dak’s knowledge has no shortcomings,” she said, crossing her arms under her 36cs.

Dak allowed himself a grin of his own. “I’ll look into it. So why am I here?”

Looking more serious than his young face should allow, Maxwell dropped his voice. “We are being hunted. I don’t like that. Both the assassins and whoever has hired them must be made to pay. We have ways of avenging our own. What I want from you is the legwork. You are a detective, you have the resources of the Public Enforcers behind you, go detect.”

He leaned forward to emphasize one final point. “I also do not need to remind you who you are sharing a bed with. You are involved Dak, whether you like it or not, unless you intend to throw Erin into the teeth of the wolves.”

Find out more about Dak and Erin and their Quest to preserve New Cluster Here!

 

Dionysus Green

Who loves you Mary-Jane

Do not let it be a Pain

 

 

Life

Is full of Strife

Yes, we want to accomplish and Succeed

But is some ways betterment is also fueled by Greed

Sometimes we Attack

But it is also cool to kick Back

When Mr. Green is on the Scene

We do not have to get all Mean

Sometimes I have Found

That the best thing we can do is Power-Lounge

So Tonight

Let us do it Right

Forget about the world filled with Puss

And become one with Dionysus

So great Baccus bless us this Night

As we bask in your Delight

 
Learn More about how Heroes use the Eight Archetypes Here!

Lock Down, Bite Down Part IV

Mickey managed to keep silent for about as long as it took Bill to jump into the back seat with Becca so Sheriff Dells could ride up front. “So what’s going on, sheriff?”

“I wish I knew.”

“I can tell you,” Becca spoke up from the back. “Little Mary came back from Tucson with a nasty bite. The doctor was checking her for a fever or something and she bit out his throat. A minute after that, he stopped moving. A minute after that he killed Tom Simpson. I think that if they bite you, you end up like them, sooner than later. Oh, my brother. He was bitten. I didn’t know what to do. I left him there.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Bill said.

“No he won’t!” He scream sounded far too loud within the truck. “These crazy things are eating people. My brother is dead,” She wailed before breaking down into tears.

As the group tore around the corner, he saw a sight that froze his blood. Emma, the older woman he had just assisted crouched over Molly Atkins and violently pulled Molly’a bowels from her blood drenched body.

“Holy hell,” Mickey gasped, while Bill lost his lunch all over the back of the truck

As the scent of vomit filled the cab, Dells yelled, “That’s it, pull over.” Mickey was quick to comply and Dells hurried from the truck. He approached Emma slowly with his pistol drawn.

Before he had gotten within twenty feet, the sounds of tearing flesh assaulted his ears, but these proved mild compared to the sickening slurping and grunting of Emma crewing on poor Molly’s organs.

“Emma…” Despite everything, he still wanted to believe there was some explanation. But when Emma’s milky eyes looked up over her blood painted face, Dells knew true fear. A moment later, she rose to her feet and started stumbling toward him.

“Shot here. Shot her!” Becca screamed.

The front of his former teacher was bathed in blood and she let loose a deep moan.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Jansen,” he whispered before putting a bullet between her eyes.

He couldn’t be sure how long he stood there staring at the kind old woman he had just killed before Molly sat up like a vampire in its coffin. Her head jerked toward him, and as she began to rise to her feet, her bowls spilled over the hot pavement like overflowing pasta.

Becca didn’t need to instruct him this time and he shot her in the chest. But the woman kept coming. “The head shot worked before…” and it did again.

More shouting could be heard back the way they had just retreated from.

“Come on, Sheriff,” Mickey yelled.

He didn’t need more encouragement than that and rushed back to the truck.

Becca spoke toward him before he opened the side door. “So do you believe me now?”

“I think I believed you before. I just hadn’t wanted too.”

“So what now?” Mickey asked.

Dells opened his door. “Same plan as before. We get to my station and stock up on arms. We need to save our town.”

He was just about to climb into the car when Becca’s brother appeared and grabbed Dells from behind.

Check in next Saturday for the next Chapter of Eternal Aftermath!

              You can explore more of the Eternal Aftermath here

The Climax of A Clone of a Different Color

It did not take long to pack. Fear lent them speed. Dak’s Public Enforcer salary was enough to allow him the luxury of a vehicle. Sure there would be numerous checkpoints before he could be free of the Hub, where the Mayor’s influence remained strongest, but he could only hope that if they moved fast enough this Enforcer clearance would see them both through before anyone realized they were gone.

Once they opened the door, they found themselves staring down the barrels of three Flashguns. It was Matthews, Waterman, and Fosters and it didn’t take much to force them back into the apartment.

Fosters shut the door behind them then motioned them with the business end of his pistol to have a seat on the sofa. He sat down opposite of them. Matthews scanned the rest of the small apartment, while Waterman mopped his brow with the back of his arm. Neither Waterman nor Fosters took their aim away from the couple.

Waterman sneered at Dak. “Matthews told me about who you really are and what you’re doing, and before they put you away, I just wanted you to know how sick I think it is.”

“Thanks for the update. I would have never been able to sleep other wise. Your opinion has always mattered so much to me.”

“Why you piece of-” Waterman hollered, as he rushed forward.

But Fosters drew him off. “Put a gag on it, Waterman. You know the Mayor wants these two. We’ll let him decide what to do with them.”

Dak looked over at Matthews. His silent pleading proved a wasted effort and Matthews avoided any uncertainly by looking away. Dak was running out of options.

“Come on guys, after all we have been through, you’re going to flush our friendships on a technicality?”

“We do not consider sleeping with a terrorist a technicality, Dak,” Waterman snarled. “Your perverted mind is just too clouded to see how screwed up you are.”

“All right enough of this chit chat,” Fosters said, his voice growing louder. “Matthews, Waterman, check them for weapons. I didn’t want any surprises.”

As it turned out everyone was surprised, but Fosters, when the older man shot Matthews and Waterman in the back with a powerful stun setting. They crumpled to the floor limp and unconscious.

“Wait, what?” Dak said, hopping to his feet. His confusion multiplied when Erin began to quickly gather the fallen officer’s weapons.

“Calm down and sit down,” Fosters said, waving his flashgun at him. He did so. Even if he could make a break for it, he would have stayed. He had to hear this one out. He just hoped it didn’t end with his death.

He looked down were Erin used each officer’s own cuffs to bind their hands behind their backs. She refused to meet his eyes. His heart pumped twenty extra beats a minute. “Erin?” he questioned. She still refused to look up at him and moved father away from him. She made a small sniffing sound and then wiped a hand across her face.

“Don’t blame poor Erin or should I say Evan. She didn’t know she was going to fall in love.”

Fosters seemed pleased with himself, but Dak had never been more confused. Although he had a feeling it would soon be becoming very clear to him. He looked from Erin, who still used her hair to hide her face, over to Fosters.

“It’s because of her that you aren’t flapping like a fish on the floor. It’s because of your little cutie that you’ll be given options. You see,” he began using the gun like a baton to emphasize his points. “We Jumpers are far more powerful than you could possibly imagine. The Mayor is a fool. He has no clue how far our fingers reach. He might not know, but you’re starting to.”

“You aren’t really Fosters are you?”

The older man pointed his finger at his nose in a very undignified manner. “Bingo, my laddie.  Although I have been him for about seven months now. Before me it was my buddy Jaze. You see we usually get paid for a one-year stit and get paid well, I might add. By the way, a good way to keep from getting Jumped, don’t be predictable. I can play his grumpy cynical cop thing all day.”

He imitated some classic Foster mannerisms and it became unsettling to watch.

“I get it, please stop.” A moment of silence stretched and Dak looked over at Erin. She still refused to meet his gaze.

“Why so quiet Evan?”

“Don’t call her that.”

“Oh touchie, how do you know she doesn’t want to be called that? She’s getting paid too, you know.” Dak felt flushed. He stared at the floor. “Your little secret was out long ago. We keep close tabs on those that touch us.”

The presence in the Fosters shell leaned forward. “We are the new immortals, the Gods. We will never age, at least not for more than a few years at a time. I can relive twenty-three for a hundred years. I’m just doing this Foster gig so I can make some money first. Five more months and I’ll be twenty-three when you’re sixty.”

“Don’t say that, Mace,” Erin said suddenly. Her voice sounded choked.

“Hah, what, you want him to join us.” She finally met his eyes.

“Let’s just talk about tonight.”

“Wise, wise. Yes, let’s just talk about tonight. Thanks to Erin you were a useful tool an unwitting man on the inside if you will. With little nudges from the various Fosters over the years you could be steered away form areas of…conflict.”

“I’m not an idiot! I can understand what you have done.” He looked at Erin while he spoke. “What happens now?” he said raising his voice. Beneath him Matthews stirred.

“Maybe that isn’t for you to decide.” At first he wondered who else could be involved, but then Dak saw that he stared at Erin. “Well, Erin?”

“Oh, Dak I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t feel too bad, Dak. The girl you knew as Erin’s contract was up half a year ago. She signed on for another year. Usually we worry about such things, but in the end we all Jump for pleasure, so for each their own. We have no simpler motto.”

“Does Erin have to go?” he asked the ghost of Fosters.

“That’s the real question isn’t it?”

“Would you still want me to stay?”

Dak was still. How long has it been since he took a breath? “Is she allowed to?”

“Alright, this is starting to make me sick. Just tell him what you told me before.”

There was a pause. It grew longer. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you. Dak. I’d like to stay if you’d have me.’

“Will they cut you loose?”

“Oh-hey sparky. No, no, you will both be working for Jump 101 or your lives with get messed up real quick.” He stood up and put the pistol away. “I’ll send someone over with the contract tomorrow.”

“What about these guys?”

“They know a little too much I’m afraid. Besides this bastard Waterman works for the Mayor. We have known that for a while. I’m taking him with me. He might be Jumped, but” he made a face, “he’s so nasty and ugly we may just have to dump him into a den of Mut-hounds.”

“I think I could talk Matthews around it. He’s a good kid.”

The Jumper stood and considered the situation. “I like him a bit too. He isn’t too bad for a pee I suppose. It’s a deal, but if he sinks so do you. I’m still taking Waterman.”

Soon the thing in Fosters’ shell left with Waterman slung over his shoulder. He wanted to deal with Matthews, but Erin was starting to cry.

He moved over to her. “You must hate me for lying to you.”

“How could I hate the woman who loves me? Everyone needs a job I guess. I hope it pays well for I expect dinner to be one you for about a year.”

She tried to smile.

He took her into his arms. “I can live with you know as long as you are a hundred percent honest from this day forth.”

“I can do that. I’ll start with I love you.”

“I love my Erin, no matter who the hell you really are.”

Discover Dak and Erin’s most insane adventure here!

Winslow Removes the Discord ‘Casting Couch’ from Zano’s Office

Collapsing Shack, AZ—After losing dozens of potentially talented reporters and multiple lawsuits, the Daily Discord’s CEO finally moved the official Discord ‘Casting Couch’ from Mick Zano’s office. “This latest list of atrocities and abuses marked the last straw,” said CEO Pierce Winslow. “And this time I mean it!”

As a result, threats, blubbering, and attempted bribery were heard echoing up and down the halls of Discord Central today.

“What can you expect?” said Winslow. “Do you see a lot of women working here? Guess why that is? Yep, it’s because either Mick Zano or the Ghetto Shaman scares them off. That and the fact we have no toilets in the rest room. And don’t even get me started on what they make the interns do. At this point, the only college that still sends us any is that damn Hogbein Institute and Multiplex. And the last one I got from there thought the World Wide Web was something from the Lord of the Rings.”

In his defense, Zano brought up the fact Cokie McGrath still worked for the Discord, “so we can’t be all bad.”

Winslow then pointed out the fact McGrath has filed no less than seven restraining orders against Zano and is even beginning to doubt whether or not he can truly “make her a star.”

The Daily Discord

When Zano was given a chance for a rebuttal, he had this to say. “This is completely unfair. Four of those restraining orders are completely unjustified.” And somewhere in the background someone did that badha bah, drum thing.

“Winslow could have at least waited until the Swedish exchange student bikini team had finished their tour,” added the Shaman.

Winslow countered by saying, “and I’m taking away that damn Badha bah drummer too!”

I caught up to local horror writer Michael D. Griffiths, who tends to lurk around the office looking for free pastries, and asked him if he knew of any inappropriate behavior going on within the halls of the Discord.

“Umm, as long as begging, screaming, panting, grunting, bribing, pleading, demanding, hanging up porn calendars, third party harassment, quid pro quo, inappropriate emails, asking to wife swap, hanging up flyers for office orgies, giving crude gifts, pinching, hugging, froughting, naughty pantomiming, knee licking, trying to get other employee to give out their daughter’s cell numbers, and hiring topless dancers for lunch breaks are okay, then I think these guys are pretty well behaved,” said Griffiths.

Mr. Griffiths later admitted, however, the Ghetto Shaman’s list would be “considerably longer.”

So as you can see, even with the loss of the infamous Casting Couch not much will probably change around Discord Central. When we asked Winslow where it would go, he said he was considering giving the couch to the Crank. “That guy needs something to cheer him up.”

Now you have to excuse me, the Crank is researching which bar has the best PBR pour in Mesa and the new interns from the institute are due to arrive any minute. Can you open a locked door with a church key? I mean they must call them keys for some reason.

If you would like to see more of my Writing jump here!

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Labor & Industry, CPS Descend on Wonka Factory

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http://www.dailydiscord.com

Putin: “I’m Only Gay With the Clergy”

Putin: “I’m Only Gay With the Clergy”

Deluise: “Sure, and I’ma da Pope.”

Carnival of Blood Part VIII

As Jack fell, he caught a glimpse of the top-hated carnie that kicked him back into the shambling horde of side show freaks. Strangely their bloated and mangled bodies protected him from greater damage. The one beneath him perished in a fit of snapping bones and jagged screams. Three others were knocked aside. 

This gave him just enough time to get to his feet and yell, “You want me so bad, come on!”

Then his axe cut huge paths through the disfigured mass of freaks. Under normal circumstances, Jack would have felt pity for such tortured creatures, but regardless of their past state, the Xemmoni had corrupted their souls. It might not have been fair, but Jack knew that pain filled hearts became Darkened easier than most and the evil eyes that glared at him from forty skulls confirmed this.

Jack stepped into his wild swings and then drew back and braced himself. He tried to keep moving and the foe wouldn’t grow too thick, but within seconds he was forced back into the dead end. Bodies had already piled at his feet, but the horrid enemy came in waves. Elongated arms lost their hands and fat heads coved in odd growths were split in half. Hands, nails, claws, and ratty teeth tore at him. With most of his jacket already destroyed, he had only his hardened flesh of Yig to fall back on. So far it kept him alive, but the numbers grew overwhelming.

His eyes darted toward the opening he had carved overhead. So close, but it might has well been on the other side of this Yig-forsaken town. There was no way he could fight his way free of this press and make it up there without the freaks pulling him back down.

He braced a heel against the wall of the dead end, took a deep breath, and then roared. It was the roar of the savage fighting to keep from being devoured, the Viking storming the shores on an unknown land, the cave dweller defending his mate.

The freaks withdrew for a moment, but then the carnie’s voice shouted down. “At him, rend the flesh from his bones or his fate will be yours!”

Then they came.

Like a tidal wave of flesh, they descended at him. Midgets mixed with giants. Some had too few limbs, while others had twice the amount they should. 

Jack unleashed with a primitive fury. His eyes glowed with the green of Yig while his axe ripped through them in bloody arcs. They fell by the half dozen, but still pressing in. Soon their blood painted his body. Drops of crimson flew from the ends of his hair and rolled down his arms in strings, which mixed with his own more often than not.

Still they came. A nightmare of mutated flesh. Mouths snapped where hands should be. Bodies seemed to flow and join together until he couldn’t be sure where one enemy started and another ended. All the while they hammered and gibbered, clutched and bit.

The sea of flesh parted to let a thundering form charge him. Big enough to be five men, the circus fat-man lurched toward him. Its blubber bounced in stench-ridden waves the size of his thigh. The foul head resting above the swollen form seemed overly small and insane laughter erupted from a mouth full of splintered teeth. Hands the size of baked turkeys slapped together, like they already anticipated tearing him apart. To be caught in those hands would mean his death.

Some times in life you have to do something stupid to stay alive.

Jack threw the axe at the thing’s head.

The move was so unexpected the fat-man had no chance to block the steel headed missile and the mighty axe split its skull. The pale mountain of obesity toppled backwards with a drawn out moan and killed four of his former allies when he crushed them flat.

Another oversized freak had been following the fat-man. This was a hairy giant that could have been mistaken for a Bigfoot. No clothes concealed the layers and layers of course matted hair that sprung from the towering figure’s form. Its gait and profile both had an apish feel, as thought this creature was a throwback to an earlier predecessor of man. This eight foot tall giant tore the axe out of his fallen friend with a roar and turned to face Jack.

But Jack was already moving.

Between the minions of freaks moving aside for the fat-man and then being either crushed or cut off from him but its colossal bunk, Jack had a few feet of clearance around him. Drawing his hand axe, he raced up onto the chest of the boated corpse and jumped onto the top of the maze’s wall he had so recently perched from. Losing his balance, he began to topple back toward the giant axe welder and his remaining freakish followers, but the hook of his hand axe lashed out and caught on the lip of the hole he had cut into the ceiling.

“Oh I don’t think so,” the carnie said and Jack heard boots thumping toward him. At the same time, he spotted something he hadn’t slowed down long enough to notice before.

The exit.

From where he stayed perched, he could see the exit to the maze.

Behind him the hairy giant prepared a blow that would cut him in two, while above him the booted foot lined up to kick his hand axe away.

With a yell, Jack reversed the grip on his hand axe and sent it cutting into the carnie’s shin. This caused the bastard to scream as Jack flung himself over the wall—seconds before the Bigfoot’s axe cut through the air where he had been.

He hit the floor on the other side of the wall and sprinted toward the maze’s exit. The hairy freak and its foul fellows gave chase, but he found the exit and hurried through. After frantically searching for a door he could shut, but finding none, he raced forward. Jack quickly traveled past what he guessed was the empty freak show. Once through the cages and filthy display cases, he found a staircase in the back going up.

The undulating horde of flesh followed from behind while the carnie and other tribulations waited for him ahead.

Jack wiped the lingering blood from his eyes and pressed on.

To be continued next Monday

Find out how Jack’s Adventures Started Here!

Lock Down, Bite Down… part III

Dells watched in muted horror as the doors to the clinic flew open and nine stumbling blood splattered people, half of which he knew, came pouring out. Standen had barely noticed because he still wrestled with the small Janise girl that had her teeth clamped down on his left hand.

“Shot them, shot them!” the teen Becca screamed.

Dells indecision reached new heights, but his attention was drawn to his partner smashing the young girl on the side of the face with his pistol. This proved enough to knock her off his hand, but a blow that should have left her bed ridden and crying all day, didn’t faze her and she sprung back onto her feet and rushed Standen again.

This time he kicked her away. She lost her footing again, but scrambled to her feet like nothing had occurred. “Son of a bitch…” he started, but by then the victims from the clinic had drawn near.

Standen stood closer and they fell on him while he focused on the girl. “What the hell?” Soon his words were replaced by ear rending screams as three new mouths clamped down on him.

“Holy Hell,” Dells started several of the people rushed toward him on awkward stiff legs.

Becca grabbed his arm. “Either shot them or run!”

How could he run while his partner was being killed, but looking over he saw that Standen had already been pulled to the ground and it would be too late to do anything for him. It was also too late to make it to his vehicle, because the bloody mindless victims stood between him and his ride.

The girl had already run off, but turned long enough to yell. “Come on! If they bite you, you end up like them. They already got my brother.”

Her words snapped him out of the mind numbing horror he witnessed and he turned just as the first hands reached out for him. Sprinting forward he grabbed Becca’s arm and hurried her along.

“When are you going to start shooting them?” she got out between gasps.

“I can’t just go and shoot people. There could be a way to save them.”

“Can’t you shoot people that are murderers?”

He nodded.

“Well than all of those fuckers qualify. I left my brother in there. Oh God.”

“We need to get to the station, I have to call more sheriffs and get folks up here from Tucson.”

“With all respects,” she said while pulling a lock of auburn hair from her face, “screw that. Mary had just come back from Tucson. This had happened to her there. How do you know things aren’t worse there? We need to warn the people here!”

“You alright, sheriff?” a voice called out to him from a pickup truck. Mickey Gibson drove and Bill Adams rode beside him.

“I’m about as far from alright as you can get. I need you boys to take us to my station and consider yourselves both deputized.” They gave him a strange look, but stopped the truck so the pair could hop in.

Before Mickey pulled away, Dells heard fresh screams sounding behind him. He cursed as the truck pulled away.

A new Eternal Aftermath Story begins next Saturday!

You can find out more about the Eternal Aftermath here!

Jack Primus, The Ghetto Shaman, and All the Chicken Wings they could Rally

Washington, DC—On Oct. 30^th The National Mall was packed wall-to-wall with celebrities attending the Shaman’s Rally to Retrieve the U.S. Soul. After a long weekend of bashing in the skulls of the foul Darcarre, Jack Primus swung east in support of the Discord’s cause.  Being a fictional character doesn’t stop Primus from doing any number of cool things on a given day. You know that dude, the world’s most interesting man, from those Dos Equis commercials? Jack Primus won’t return his calls.

Jack is the archetypal hero. He captured the new century’s zeitgeist and keeps it chained in his basement next to his morning star.  Primus rarely does interviews, but for the Discord…we paid him—virtual money, of course.

The rest of this post is courtesy of Mr. P himself:

The Ghetto Shaman has given his blessing to Yig.  He is truly wise. Since he’s been receiving death threats from both the Xemmoni underground and the Sharron Angle campaign—both sworn enemies of Yig—I decided to help out my old friend. He asked me to support his cause, protect him from the super natural forces that be, and, of course, buy him some malt liquor products. Actually, I only agreed if GS promised me a plug on the Discord to sell more books.  He also promised me all the chicken wings I could eat. The joke was really on them; I hid an extra eighty in my backpack on the way out.  I heard Zano is getting his “wages” garnished over that one. But GS told me he’s got Winslow wrapped around his little chicken wing and I could muscle-in whenever I wanted.
If what happened at the Mall on October 30th continues to plague America, you’re really going to need the Chronicles of Jack Primus.  It’s not just a book; it’s a survival guide for the coming apocalypse!

To rewind a bit, everything had started out well enough. The Discord was bussing people down to the event. The Ghetto Shaman was reading excerpts of Jack Primus to the cheering masses. But those who could not decipher the Primus Code, never got a bus ride home! This book was their return ticket, you see. Without it, they were forced to hang out at Capital City Brewing—that big dumb brewpub downtown; the one with small portions and rubbery chicken wings. If you get stuck down there and the Xemmoni or the Darcarre get you, don’t come bitching to me. You’ve been warned. They’re in all the major cities, and they tend to know when you know…you know? So now that you know, you better read this book and learn how to stay alive…and don’t order those chicken wings.

I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Can you edit that out, Winslow? Not the staying alive part, the other part about the wings. Sometimes they’re OK drowned in enough blue cheese dressing. But you should buy the book and try to stay alive, of course. Geesh.

So, you want to really know what happened on October 30th? Why GS needed me as he shifted into an alternate dimension? He isn’t called a Shaman for nothing. They did come after him that day—in mass, I might add. You see, anyone and everyone must guard his or her corporeal body during any exercise in soul travel, especially one this important.

When The Ghetto Shaman drank his potion on the Lincoln Memorial steps, those damn Darcarre moved in like bed bugs in an Econo Lodge.  They surrounded us, alongside their unwilling slave, Jeff “come-on-in-guys” Probst of Survivor fame. They didn’t want GS’s message to get out to the people.  They will derail any message resembling Yig’s.  Could you imagine what would have happened if GS told everyone on national television to dissolve our differences and embrace the All Father snake? Yep, you’re right, we’d all be in a state of bliss, with all hunger and wars a thing of the past. Don’t look at me like that… Snakes are all about bliss… duh.  Haven’t you ever read any Graham Hancock?

So when they came, I was ready, or at least I was after I wiped the BBQ sauce off my weapon hand.  GS even helped with the battle; he was pretty bad ass with those chicken bone nunchucks. We gave those Serial Killers a good licking, but the damage was done. They jammed the telecast and those other stooges claimed all the credit for the rally.

Why do you think the special wasn’t on television and they switched all the coverage to those Comedy Central dudes with the weird haircuts and no sideburns?  It was a diversion!  I kept the Shaman safe until the police…er, “took over.”

There you have it, right from the hero’s mouth.  Some call Primus a Yig-loving fictional freak. Whereas this is true, it’s still not a very nice thing to say. We would rather you stay alive, learn your enemy’s secrets, and read The Chronicles of Jack Primus.

Grab one of the Chronicles f Jack Primus here!

You can Check out more Comedy here!