Discord Sued for Wrecking Another Meme

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EP 5: The Daily Discord's "Lowell Observatory Incident"

This Spring a group of Adventurers risked their lives at the Lowell Observatory here is what

they discovered…

Lowell Observatory

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Three Villains and a Murder

Dave led the way into the dark house. Mar and Cindy quickly followed. Allen, who still carried Jenny’s unconscious body, came in last. As soon as the tall teen had entered, the door was slammed shut behind him. Mar turned just in time to see a man standing behind the door smash Allen in the back of the head with a club of some kind.

Allen groaned for a moment, but then he and Jenny both toppled to the floor.

Mad man behind the door

Cindy gasped in horror, as Dave rushed toward the attacker, which Mar could see welded a bat with several loops of barbwire wrapped around its business end. But before Dave could get within ten feet of the bat welder, two men leapt out of a side room and tackled him. Dave fought like a wildman, but before Mar could even think about how she might be able to help, he’d been pinned to the floor.

“Man, I think this kid broke my nose,” one of the men said. Mar could see they looked older and had to be at least twice her age.

“Shut the hell up, Lenny,” The other man wrestling with Dave yelled. His head was clean shaven and reflected the dim triangle of light that bled into the room. Looking up to the man near the door he said, “We don’t need a guy do we, Pritch?”

His face stayed cloaked in shadows, but a deep voice boomed out, “Nope, I don’t think any of us swing that way.”

“Then if you will do the honors…”

“Sure thing, Sully,” he said before bringing his bat up over his head and then slamming it down on Dave’s skull like an executioner’s axe.

Dave didn’t even have time to shout. His body when into a seizure as blood poured out of the open wound on his forehead.

The seizure didn’t last long and Cindy sobbed as she threw herself into Mar’s arms. “He isn’t dead is he?”

Mar couldn’t bring herself to answer. Instead she said, “What do you want with us?”

Mar’s Eternal Aftermath Begins

Pritch stepped in closer. She could see he had a brutal face. Years of drinking left the man looking bloated, like his skin could barely contain his stretching bulk. “What do you think we’re doing, sweet thing? It probably shouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Even a little bimbo like you should be able to see that his is a good thing.”

“What do you mean?” her lips trembled as she tried to force her words out.

“Well any fool can see we got the end of the world on our hands. Me and my buddies have a hunting cabin in the woods north of Catalina. We had planned to wait until all the idiots kill themselves off and then head up there, but when Sully saw you three hotties heading by it seemed like a gift too perfect to refuse.”

Sully chuckled. “Yep, three of us and three of you.”

“What do you mean?” Cindy stammered. “You can’t take us away. I need to get to my family and see if they’re alright.”

“In the contrary, little one,” Pritch said. “At this point I think we can do whatever we want.”

Villain with a bat

Check in every Saturday for the next chapter in the Eternal Aftermath!

You can explore more of the Eternal Aftermath here!

They Never Sleep

The Haunted Weatherford in Flagstaff Arizona

What happens when you take a group of chaos driven wild individuals and give them permission to explore you 140 year old hotel for Ghosts? Well just click below to find out… if you dare!!!

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SJ and the SHovel Part IV

MDG  

Oh Man

What a rough night. It is hard to sleep with a solid fin of hair jutting out from the top of your head. Then…I’m not sure if was CW’s cat or what, but we were woken up early by the sounds of Jack cursing. As soon as I crawled out of the tent, some kind of crazy brown desert mutt was in my face. When I kicked it, it exploded into a shower of dust. That was weird. Jack was going to town with some ball and chain weapon. Who knows how many he dusted.

 

Later he got into my face talking about some guy Wivalynn and how his creatures would get stronger as he drew closer and we had to keep moving. SJ is frantic. She knows this guy is after her shovel, but she calls him Willaim Lynn. It is all very confusing.

So now we are getting ready to hike out into the sun. My Little Wax Head Boy mohawk keeps dripped wax over my face and I have to hold Crystalwizard’s cat half the time and Dahtoe won’t stop trying to peck at it and then the cat freaks out and I get an armful of claws.
Another thing I’m getting sick of is all of these kangaroo rat sandwiches. We may have to stop somewhere for supplies soon, but I think I might have lost my wallet in a canyon somewhere and besides how can we go shopping with a dozen rattlesnakes, a manic seagull, a neurotic cat, and a Humming Shovel. Oh it is doing Sunshine Of Your Love again.
Hmm Hmmm Hmmm Hmmm
Hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm hmm

SJ  

WHY have we stopped??? We should be still on the move. Shovel thinks so. The Cat is more than happy to keep going, with Dahtoe using his tail as target practice. Jack understands – I can tell by the way he grunts. So why are we parked here? Because of Mike. Who says he can’t go any further. Reckons that with his hair all waxed up, he needs his rest. If William catches up with us – Mike will be getting a lot more rest than he bargained for…

And he’s welcome to the tent. I’m moving into Jack’s shelter. I don’t care that it’s all bare rock and half-cured leather. At least if William comes for Shovel and me, Jack is capable of fighting him off.
Whereas Mike is just up for feeding me more of those pink pills and flipping into full sooth-mode. You know the kinda thing, ‘Don’t you worry your little old head, SJ. William Lynn is only a figment of your imagination. There’s no way that Shovel can sense evil…’
And this is the man whose been singing songs with Shovel for the past 2 days! Mr Consistency he ain’t.
I think we’re approaching the edge of the desert. There’s a loom of light on the horizon that might be civilization. I hope. Trouble is, I can’t tell exactly how much further we have to go before we get there. But I reckon we have to keep on going through the night. So does Shovel. I’m wondering if I bang Mike on the head with Shovel, we can knock him cold and carry him… Or maybe Jack could lash up some sort of travois with a couple of buffalo skeletons and rattleskins. If we harnessed The Cat, he could – at last – make himself useful by helping to haul Mike along if we put Dahtoe in a cage just behind him.

Um. That won’t work. Well – it might. But there’s no way anyone is going to manage to put that crazy seagull in a cage…
The rest of the plan might be OK, though. I’ll run it by Jack. We CANNOT afford to stop for the night. Shovel is positive that William is too close. And if he gets hold of Shovel – well, that’s unthinkable. It mustn’t happen. That’s all.

MDG 

Whatta

SJ is trying to make me come off sounding all lazy. I’m the one carrying the backpack full of water and rats, while all she carries is The Shovel. Now she is sleeping next to Jack ‘for warmth.’ Man that guy gets all the chicks. It must be the sideburns.
We have a new problem. Well, we have a lot of problems, but I won’t go there. SJ saw the lights, while we walked all dang night. No its not Vegas. It was theflippin Hoover Dam. At least I know I’m still on earth. I was beginning to wonder.

So now the issue is what to do. I might be able to get the cat and Dathoe over, even with my foot high melting mohawk, but I’m not sure about the snakes and The Shovel.
Jack says we should not risk a crossing here because Wivalynn, or William Lynn or whatever is name is, might have men staked out here. I was so delirious that I agreed to follow Jack, as he took us south into a maze of some of the roughest canyons I have ever seen.
Crystalwizard’s cat digs her claws into my back, as I follow Jack through the jagged cliffs. The whole time Dahtoe is is mocking us from above as he coasts on the winds.
Wivalynn must have summoned another pack of mutes for I can hear them following us. Jack wants to cross the raging colorado. I’m not sure how we are going to do that, but it doesn’t matter now because we are still a dozen mountains away from it.
We could really use a break. If anyone out there can help us-without invloving the authorities- please do.
At least Jack’s snakes hunted down and killed a deer. Still, I’m not sure how save it is to eat this venom filled meat.
Oh shot, it sounds like the pack is getting closer. I have to go!

SJ   

I want to place it on record – I am NOT having an affair with Jack. However, whatever transpires between a man and my tool is entirely their own business…

Meantime, we are now across the Colorado. We are all still alive if a little soggy – which is more than can be said for that bunch of bozos that tried to ambush us on the other side of the river. Jack is certainly a POWERFUL guy when he goes into berserker mode – even the seagull knew to back off. And so – I am glad to say – is Shovel… They certainly have a lot in common. Mind you, the snakes also accounted for one or three of William’s thugs.
And the deer that Mike was fussing about? Jack skinned it and made a coracle with it and the travois we used to drag Mike along till he came around. Shovel suggested that hitting Mike over the head might kill him – and he got upset in case he lost his hum-buddy… So I dosed him with those pills he keeps shovelling down my throat. I’m now seriously concerned about my longtime health – Mike was out cold for 6 hours. He can’t even remember that we put him on the travois. It took him another 2 hours before he recalled his own name…
No wonder I’ve been getting memory blanks…
Oh – and CW, I’m sorry. The Cat didn’t like the idea of getting in the coracle. In all the fighting and confusion, he ran off. We’re hoping that we catch him again. Dahtoe is looking for him as we speak. We’ll let you know as soon as we find him. Sorry…

MDG:

Oh my head.

Well I’m glad The Shovel still likes me. But boy did SJ get mad about that comment I maderegarding her and Jack. Ouch my head. I’m glad The Shovel held back his mojo, or I might not be writing this.
I think we are hopelessly lost now, since during the crossing my maps washed away and with me being unconsious they no longer had my excellent navigational skills.
And we lost the cat. Crystalwizard is going to kill me. The only thing I live for is my slush reading for Abandoned Towers and now I see it all slipping away, unless I can find that cat. Dahtoe had better find it or I am doomed. At least I am still soggy and hard to light.
Also Scott I’m getting more worried about Little Wax Head Boy. A lot of him might have washed away when we crossed the Colorado. Yep the mohawk is still there, but he is not talking anymore.

 

Jack is all beat up and things are getting lonely and tense here after the attack. There are only the four of us now and a few snakes. Jack has gone off to collect more. I try to talk to SJ, but she is jealious about the growing relationship The Shovel and I are developing and she doesn’t want to let me near.

Once it started to grow dark I saw the signs of city lights, but they were to the south and I know Vegas should be to the west. I hope Jack makes it back soon. Shoot right nowI would settle for Dahtoe. I think the shadows are moving unnaturally. So we are either about to be attacked, my head wound is making me see things, or those meds have not left my system yet.
Does any out there live near Vegas or Kingman? I could use a sandwich.

To be continued…. 

You can find out more about Jack Primus here!

Lock Down, Bite Down, Part VII

Sheriff Dells and Mickey carried a bloody and screaming Bill back into the sheriff station, while Becca hurried to slam the door behind them.

“More are coming sheriff,” she said as she threw the lock.

“They’ll have to wait,” Dells said while he wrapped a towel around Bill’s tattered neck bite.

“Just kill him now, before he turns.” Henry called out from his cell.

Mickey lifted his face that had become smeared with his friend’s blood. “You were bit, should we kill you too?”

“You’ll probably have to, but I’d rather wait to be sure these bites kill like in the movies.” Henry shrugged. “You never know, the movies could be wrong.”

“Will you two stop blabbing,” Dells ordered. “Becca get me some more towels. Mick, help me lift him onto Johnson’s desk.”

By the time they had Bill on the desk, he had stopped crying out and his breath came in jagged gasps. “Come on, we could still save him. Becca you help me. Mick, you keep an eye on those freaks out there and grab your cell phone and start calling everyone you know. Tell them to stay inside or meet here.” Blood squirted through his fingers, “And if they came here, make sure they bring every weapon they got.”

Mickey started to press a few buttons of his phone while he looked out the windows. “I’m not sure why they’re coming here Sheriff or why we got so many so fast, but there must be at least twenty of those nasty bastards out there now.”

“Yesterday those nasty bastards were our family and friends, so-”

A loud moan broke his concentration and he jerked back as Bill’s bloody mouth lurched for his arm. “Mother of—Becca look out!”

But the girl needed no warming from him. With a startled cry she dashed away toward the cell that held her wounded brother. In the other occupied cell the undead UPS driver started to thrash and got even crazier than before.

“Kill it, kill it,” she shouted.

While the sheriff was disturbed to hear Henry laugh and say, “this is so cool,” under his breath.

What was once Bill, rolled off the desk and made to grab for him again, while outside, the first sounds of fists banging against the door could be heard. Since Dells rifle was leaning against the wall, he went for his pistol, but before he could grab it two things happened. The first was Mickey shouting out as an arm burst through one of the front windows. The second was Bill grabbing the sheriff’s arm, so that he couldn’t pull the pistol free.

Dells started backpedalling and it probably saved his life, for Bill’s teeth snapped shut just inches from his face. The sheriff kept moving until his back crashed against a wall. Bill growled loudly and threw himself forward. Dells looked on in horror as the bloody teeth came at his face.

A loud retort sounded and Bill’s head jerked back. A second later, his body toppled to the floor.

Looking over, he saw the teen standing on the other end of the smoking barrel. “Ah… thanks.”

“Don’t sweat it,” she said actually cracking a smile.

“Quit congratin’ each other,” Mickey shouted. “We got real problems here!”

Dells’ eyes grew wide with horror as he saw the first bloody form trying to force itself through the window.

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

You can explore more of the Eternal Aftermath here!

SJ and the Shovel Part II

SJ and The Shovel… continued through some Chaos, Comedy, and a little Magick. I might had fixed a few typos, but back then I had no idea anything abut SJ and actually thought sh was a man. Scott Sandridge joined in with little Wax Head Boy, who is jst strange. So here is part II and I hope you enjoy.

MDG

Um, would Shovel like to play with Little Wax Boy Head. I think still have him around here somewhere from my days I spent waxing Target’s floors. He doesn’t talk as much as he used to….

Shhhhh SJ listen to me. I think some of these people are trying to get your shovel. We need to get out of here while we can. Before they catch on.

Meet me at midnight at the El Rancho Hotel in Gallup NM and bring the shovel.

SS

But Little Wax Boy Head wants to talk to Shovel weely weely badly…..

SJ

I’m sorry but the shovel will not be making any public appearences or doing any interviews until SJ signs this contract I have written up for him.

SS

Well, frakity-frak-frak-frakity. 

MDG

Okay

Little Wax Boy Head…hmmmm. We might have a few bodyguard positions opening up. We are expecting a lot of press when the shovel goes public. What does Little Wax Boy Head have it terms of a resume?
 

SS

Erm…he’s made of hardened wax, can be thrown, and whines a lot?

MDG

Ok sounds perfect

As long as I get the okay from the Shovel your in. LWBH will be in charge of crowd control and keeping the press at bay.

Does he need a cooler full of ice or anything? When we start to tour America we might be traveling through some hot regions. I would not want him to melt all over the new Italian shoes that I will soon be buying.

SS

 Yaaayyyy!

SJ

 

Help! Me and Shovel have been kidnapped! Not sure exactly where we are… Some scuzzy motel in the middle of a very dusty nowhere – does that help???

And that Mike guy is five shots of vodka short of a cocktail, for sure… Keeps patting me on the shoulder and asking ‘How we are today, SJ’ in that pseudo-saccharine voice of his that’s fooling NO ONE. Not even Little Wax Boy Head. While trying to push pills down my throat by putting them in my horse-burgers (it’s gotta be horse – no cow could ever taste that bad…).

And I now know why Scotty’s panting to get rid of Little Wax Boy Head. He never lets up! Goes on and on… Whining about all the floors he’s had to clean and how it’s time for the workers of the world to unite. And Mike has hired him as a bodyguard – well that’s a joke! In the temperatures we’re sweating under out here, he spends most of his time melting in a bucket. He’d make Mike’s mad Aunty Maud look hard… She’s the one that s’posed to be running this place. Meaning she mostly spends her time counting flies on the fly-paper and sweeping the piles of sand from one corner of the room to the other, while muttering under her breath. And making those horse-burgers.
Well, Shovel’s cogitating right now. Still pondering the mysteries of the Universe. But he’s also getting really ticked off with all of this stuff. And they’d better watch out. Cos if Mike and that Little Whining Boy Head go on causing all this grief – SHOVEL’S GOING TO MAKE THEM VERRRRY SORRY!!!

And me? I don’t want to be a bad person. I don’t want Shovel to do something he’ll regret. We just joined this forum for a better life – and NOW look what’s happened! So… if you happen to be passing through the tackiest, most rundown motel on the planet – look out for me and Shovel. He’s the shiny, intelligent one. I’m the aging blonde in wax-spattered jeans (LWBH doesn’t believe in personal space when he’s grizzling about how unfair the world is).

Help!

 

MDG

LOL

Please pardon my friend, we are all fine out here. She has just been under a lot of stress while we work on our press package.

No one needs to worry about us SJ is just a little confused and this is very new to him. I think he is getting nervous about his soon to be obtained fame. I know the shovel is.

But let me clear up a few things. First off they are Mutton burgers from the Navajo Nation not horse burgers, those would cost way too much. I agree that hiring Little Wax Boy Head might have been a bad idea, but sometimes it is good to give shovel someone to talk to.

Even stranger, an odd sea gull has shown up in the middle of the desert. Ever time I get near he is always walking away, walking away. The Shovel says its name is Dahtoe, but I’m not sure how he knows that. I just wonder who it is working for. Does it have a spy cam?

I try to check, but it is always walking away, walking away and I can never catch it.
So to reiterate:

1. We are fine.
2. Don’t send help.
3. Let us know if you find out who owns a lost seagull.
4. Oh yes and if you do drop by bring lots of ice. I’m not sure how much longer LWBH is going to make it out here.

If you would like to so some of my more current Comedy on The Daily Discord, Click Here!

Eternal Aftermath

BY

Michael D. Griffiths

It is five years deep into the Zombie Apocalypse when Devon and his allies attempt to free themselves from the oppressive military base that has housed them since the plague began. Their group is betrayed and General Sulter uses Devon to set an example for others. Once Devon is stripped of his weapons, socks, and shoes, he is dumped into the middle of zombie filled Tucson and things get worse from there.

 It is five years deep into the Zombie Apocalypse when Devon attempts to free himself from the oppressive military base that has housed him. He is betrayed &Devon is stripped of his weapons, socks, and shoes, he is dumped into the middle of zombie filled Tucson and things get worse from there. 

 

Enter the Eternal Aftermath and join Devon as he moves from just trying to stay alive to daring to hope that he can somehow free Tucson and rebuild civilization, one survivor at a time.

See the new Video featuring the author below!

Check out what happens when Zombie Author Michael D. Griffiths Enters the Eternal Aftermath right now!

Breaking their way in

Eternal Aftermath II, No Haven

More than five years has passed since humanity fell and then stood back up cold, dead, and hungry. Devon has survived through the Zombie Apocalypse long enough to gather stalwart allies, but will his struggling group of refugees be enough to fight off the only things more dangerous than the stumbling hordes of undead—the mad man that seek to rule over the scraps of the old world.

Devon is different, instead of looking back, he seeks to move forward. Build a utopia that was never before possible. He has claimed the Sonoran Desert for his group. Yet, with multiple armies organizing against him and swarms of zombies covering the lands, will he even be able to keep the people he has gathered alive?

Check out the more intense Zombie series of the decade and enter

The Eternal Aftermath

Mar Imprisoned

Lock Down, Bite Down Part VI

Henry!” Becca gasped, as her brother rushed into the sheriff’s station holding a blood soaked arm.

Dells knew the boy. He wasn’t a mastermind of crime or even a punk drug dealer who fancied himself some sort of half-assed gangster. No, this late teen was more of the type that got into trouble doing stupid bullshit like lighting the desert on fire with bottle rockets or getting busted stealing bottle of booze from their small town’s only grocery store.

“Were you bit?” Mickey was quick to ask.

In the background, the smell of fresh blood seemed to be exciting their prisoner and he thrashed himself against the bars with complete disregard for his own body.

“Yeah and it hurts like hell.”

Mickey turned to face Dells. “Then we need to get rid of him. You saw what happened to Janice and the others. He could be becoming one of those things.” As if to emphasize his point, a high pitch scream could be heard in the distance.

“Hey, wait a second,” Henry complained. “I’m not dead. I think they’d have to kill you first.”

Dells pointed at the trashing UPS driver. “I don’t think he drove all the way here after being dead.”

Bill said, “Do you really think he’s dead?”

“I shot one in the chest and it kept coming,” Dells said while moving toward his desk. “Whatever they are, it isn’t good. But the kid is right. They aren’t talking once they lose it.” Looking Henry’s way, “I’m going to have to lock you up though, just to be safe.”

“Screw that!” Henry yelled. “I’m not going to sit here and be trapped while the town goes to shit.” He made a break for the door, but Mickey and Bill grabbed at him. He tried to fight again them, but with his wounded arm, he didn’t have much chance.

“Becca, Help! Don’t let them do this to me.”

She walked behind the men while the sheriff opened the door. “Come on Hen, this is the safest thing. They could just be putting a bullet through your eyes.”

“And we still might if he turns into one of those things,” Mickey said.

“Put a lid on that crap,” Dells ordered. “The only way to test your theory is to do something like this anyway. It doesn’t seem like we’ll be getting help soon, so we need to figure out what’s going on ourselves and with most of our medical experts dead, it’s up to us, okay. Okay?”

“Yes sheriff.”

A series of loud moaning sounded from outside.

Bill stood closest to the window and said, “Holy Jesus, they’re here already.”

“How many?” Dells asked as he lifted his M-4 off his desk.

“Looks like three, but one of them is Fran Tucker and Vinnie G is out there. Oh man, he’s a mess. Half his throat is gone and the whole front of him is covered in blood. His arms have nasty holes in them.” He turned back toward the others. “How could this be happening so fast?”

Mickey had made it to the window. “No living man could be walking around with wounds like that. They have to be dead.”

“They’re zombies,” Henry whispered.

“What?” Bill asked.

“He said they’re zombies,” Becca answered for her brother. “Henry was always into Dawn of the Dead and that kind of shit.”

Bill said, “Quiet down, I think they heard us. They’re coming this way.”

“Alright,” Dells started. “Let’s move then before they reach the doors. Remember to shot for the head. Becca watch your brother.”

“I can fight too.”

He glared at her.

“Okay, okay.”

Dells lead the way as the three men moved onto the faded grass of the station’s yard. At once, the three jerking forms lumbered their way. Dells didn’t hesitate this time and Vinnie’s head was pierced by his first shot. Fran Tucker went down next. It took Mickey three tries, but the third moaning killer took a head shot.

“While we’re out here, let’s get my one of the sheriff trucks and-”

But his words got cut short when Father Garcia rounded the corner of the building and grabbed Bill’s shoulder. Bill began to scream, but there was nothing they could do to stop priest’s teeth from tearing a huge chunk out of Bill’s jugular.

“Holy hell!” Dells yelled and raced forward and kicked the priest away. But the damage had been done. “Get him inside now!” he yelled before putting a bullet through Garcia’s skull.

Becca opened the door and helped Mickey get Bill inside.

Dells was just about to join them when he saw that the shots had drawn others. Nearly a dozen gruesome forms headed their way. “How could this happen so fast,” he whispered.

“Sheriff, come on!” Becca frantic form screamed at him.

He wanted to stay and put these poor folks out of their misery, but realized that Bill could become a real danger quickly so he hurried into the station and slammed the door behind him.

A Lock Down, Bite Down continues next Saturday!

You can find out more about the Eternal Aftermath here!

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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!

Lock Down, Bite Down part II

One thing about the lonely desert town of San Miguel, it wasn’t very large. Driving from the sheriff station to the clinic only took a matter of minutes. One would have thought he could have made the short drive without incident, but such wasn’t to be.

Before he had turned his first corner, Sheriff Dells saw old Emma Jane. The woman had been his third grade teacher, but now she stumbled down the road clutching her blood stained hand against her chest. Crimson stained the front of the pale dress like a bright flag.

He screeched the squad car to a stop and the pair rushed out to help the older woman. “Emma, we need to get you to the clinic!” Dells said, as he supported the frail woman.

“The heck you will! That’s where I just came from. And I’d say that young dep of yours is in over his head.”

Just as Dells was about to curse the moment the sun rose on this day, Molly Atkins rushed out of her home. “Oh my goodness, Mrs. Fallen, are you alright?”

“No, I’m not alright. That brat Mary Janise bit me. I don’t care how bad a child’s fever is, there is no excuse for such behavior.”

Emma went on, but Dells turned toward Molly. The woman mouthed, ‘I’ll take care of her.’

That was good enough for him. “Come on Standen, we need to get to that clinic.”

A minute later, they had almost arrived when Standen leaned back in the passenger seat. “I’m not feeling so well.” Sweat had drenched the man’s endless brow and his face appeared flushed.

“You don’t look good either. Maybe we can grab you some antibiotics at the clinic.”

Just as he pulled into the clinic everyone inside was rushing out of the building like it was on fire. A few of the women screamed as they ran by, but a young girl rushed toward the vehicle. In was the local girl, Becca, that his wife had gotten to babysit his children a time or two.

Her auburn hair concealed half her face as she ran to his opening window. “Your officer is dead. Everyone is going crazy in there!”

As if on cue, the little Janise girl pushed open the outer door of the clinic. Her head jerked their way. Her hair was matted with sweat and something else—blood.

Both of the men hurried out of their vehicle. The rest of the crowd had moved by them, but Becca remained. Perhaps she feels safer with us, he mused.

“Shoot her! She’s crazy,” the teen screamed.

“Are you nuts?” Standen said and began to move toward the girl.

“That’s how the other office died,” Becca said quickly. “When that woman went nuts he tried to calm her and she bit out his throat.”

Dells drew his side arm. “Watch this o

ne,” he cautioned. “If she has rabies it’s already too late for her.”

“She’s just a kid. No one gets rabies anymore. Maybe we’ll just have to—son of a bitch!” Standen yelled when her teeth clamped down on his wrist.

“Kill her!” Becca yelled. “She’s gone nuts and she’s not the only one.”

Dells took aim, but it all seemed so insane. How could he shot a girl?

That was when the doors of the clinic slammed open and more of them hurried to emerge.

A new Eternal Aftermath Story begins next Saturday!

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Motherroad Brewers attacked by Chaos

One day in early February in the year 2013, the minions of Chaos known as a The Daily Discord stormed the Motherroad Brewery in Flagstaff Arizona.

See photos

But this was no ordinary day, for the brews of the mighty Deschutes of Bend had traveled across the winter wastes to team up and brew a ale worthy of the Flagstaff/Oregon wormhole.

You will learn so much more here. Not just about the brewers, but perhaps something about the nature of reality itself or at least how to survive the apocalypse and still have a cold one.

Check out Bacchanalian explosion Below!!

 

 

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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

 

Al Gore , Men In Green, and the HARP that will Destroy Earth!

Collapsing Shack, AZ—This is some serious breaking news:  now that this distracting election is over, it’s time to push aside useless labels like Tea Bagger, Bleeding Heart Liberal, Limp-Wristed Cow-Kissing Independent, or Humanitarian Sheep-Humping Dingleberry. None of these things matter in the face of the 100 Angry Men and their lacky, nay, their leader, nay, their Supreme Allied Commander…Al Gore.

Sometimes the Discord actually breaks news instead of merely breaking news into ‘tiny shards of sensationalism’.  Google won’t verify anything I’m about to say, because they’re in on the conspiracy. Google has been manipulated by these angry men, also known as the mysterious Men In Green (MIG).  Only a small underground knows the truth. Through a mixture of ill luck, Odysseusian exhaustion, and booze, I found myself a participant in a plot that will surely shake the very core of human existence.

The other night one of these Men In Green ended up at The Green Room, my favorite bar.  I don’t know what they were looking for there, but what they found was some awesome drink specials and yours truly—a combination that would prove their undoing. I will tell you what I know.  If I disappear, they got to me…or, I got drunk.  I’m sure it’ll be one of the two. These MIGs have no country, but move throughout the world like shadows and, no, they don’t get felt up at airports; lucky bastards.

I got two of these MIG dudes drunk back at The Green Room and while they were in the can I accessed one of their laptops.  Apparently, these men control the wealth of the world and their word can change nations or economies overnight, to say nothing of extending all happy hours indefinitely!   So why was I buying all the beer?  Geesh, in retrospect, it’s a shame I spent most of the time logging into their Facebook pages to have all their friends befriend Jack Primus and The Daily Discord.  Hindsight is always 20/20, or in my case, a beer goggly 30/40.

I learned a lot perusing their files; suddenly everything made sense.  Do you really think we elected Bush twice?  It’s the game beneath the game.  Gore never wanted the presidency and then maneuvered Bush into a second term.  This was all part of the plan.  This group even allowed Fox lies to keep the ’04 election close enough so we wouldn’t suspect any foul play.   These Men In Green currently hate everyone except commies. These guys love commies. As they swerved away into the night their bumper sticker read: Pinko is the New Green.

I just heard something outside the window?  I hope it’s just the Ghetto Shaman trying to get me to buy him some more Robitussin.  Otherwise, they’re onto me.  I just hope I have enough time to send this off, finish this twelve-pack, and eat those last few slices of pizza from last night. Damn, that was a good spicy Hawaiian…

I almost forgot to put on my aluminum foil hat!  There, that should block their transmission for the few more minutes I’ll need.  They aren’t settling for just sucking the world’s resources dry, like some Bond villain.  These fiends believe the world is overpopulated so they mean to cull  the herd! That’s where Al Gore comes in.  He is their leader in the guise of an affable fool.  Their most treasured secret is this: Al Gore’s world shattering H.A.R.P.! You think Al Gore is against Global Warming, hah!  That’s nothing but another clever ruse. According to these Men In Green, Al Gore has a dreadful harp-like machine and when he plays this Human Apocalyptic Reprogramming Per-whatsas (H.A.R.P.)…well, lean in closer.  It actually causes global warming!

Why are they trying to kill us? That’s the creepy part. The truth is this: they like fluffy little animals better.  They think humans are all wicked and unredeemable.  Sure, it’s true, but it’s still not a nice thing to say.

I heard something again. I had better attach and send this document to Pierce Winslow before they set off another electro-magnetic pulse.  Shit…get another slice of pizza or warn mankind?  Damn you saucy pineappley yumminess!

So we have nothing to look forward to, other than these 100 Angry Men stealing as much money as they can and then destroying the world.  They’ll leave our planet a Road Warrior wasteland while they move into their mansions in Antarctica, party with Gwar, and laugh as the rest of the world becomes a lifeless desert.  Worse yet, they don’t seem to buy any rounds of alcohol despite almost C. Montgomery Burns levels of wealth!

I’d like to quote the Lord Humungus, “What a puny plan!” but I hear they are already booking flights to the South Pole.  They left Al Gore in the center of a hidden Tobacco patch, plucking away on his malign H.A.R.P. from Hell.  I emailed the above picture from their laptop to myself and then onward to The Daily Discord.  Do you think they’ll check their sent mail?  Damn.  I think they’re in the house now.

Still don’t believe me?  Well, I don’t give a pluck what you think. You’ll be playing a different tune when the oceans roll over the cities and the forests turn to dust. Don’t come running to me when that doomsday H.A.R.P plays its final stanza as our fingers grasp through the burning sands in the hopes of unearthing some old sandwiches or the warm beer of a dead world.
And always remember, It Could Happen to Harpo!

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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.

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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