How I Feel About Santa Claus After Seven Blue Moons.

I don't know if y'all are aware of this but it's December.  You know what happens in December?  Yea you do.

Work Sponsored Christmas Parties.

So, Danielle is a Waitress and her Work Christmas party was this evening (Read: Open Bar).  

Now I myself have not been "a drinker" for quite some time.  I have some serious family issues and most of it stems from people deciding that it's ok to get lit and then hit everyone else.  Something about self-esteem or some other new age psycho babble bullshit.  I partied but I did it long ago and not to any legendary extent.  I mostly would just get shitty, kiss a guy on the face, slap him and laugh like a jack-ass.  

Yea, life of the bleeding party this one was.  

Anyways,  stuff makes me feel like shit so it's just better this way really.  

Two sad things though, one being that while I am a large dude I'm also a huge light weight when it comes to alcohol.  The other is that while I can be funny when I'm sober I'm hilarious when I'm drunk.  I know everyone says the same thing but I ain't no goddamn son of a bitch. 

You better think about it, baby.

Open bar means free beers.  I drank me some beers.  I developed a deep love for Blue Moon this evening.  

Oh Blue Moon, you are so goddamn tasty, what with your Orange slice and your smooth texture...

Ahem.

So on the way home we begin to discuss Santa Claus.  I don't know why.  I was inebriated after all.  Now Danielle's cousin Nicole was with us and I don't think she has ever had the pleasure of my idiot ass when i'm topped off.  Danielle starts to make fun of her ghetto ass Christmas tree which causes Nikki so retort with some jibber jabbber about Santa and Mrs. Claus statues standing on opposite ends of the tree.  You know, like they are fighting.  For some reason I decide to start in on the freaky sex life that they would have to have.  Dude spends every day with elves.  Think about it.  You know them elves be getting freaky.  Like midgets all hopped up on Goof Balls.  This leads into why the French don't they have any kids.  Is he sterile?  Is she?  Does he actually hate children but he's stuck doing this job like some kind of penance for sins past?  Why would she stay with him if he can't give her children?  I'll tell you why.  He's goddamn Santa Claus.  How is any other guy gonna compete with that?  Jesus could i'm sure but I don't think he and Santa are on good terms anyways.  Seriously though, what the hell would you talk about on a date?  

"Oh, i'm recently divorced.  My husband?  Oh, he's Santa Claus.  I don't want that to drag you down though.  I like that you're an Accountant".

Game Over you fat bastard.

Maybe he's like Zeus and just knocks up chicks all over the world every year on Christmas.  Think about it.  They're both old.  They both have a penchant for serious Bearding.  They're both generous with gifts. 

I bet they shop at the same stores.  They're simpatico.

Sandworms man.  You know I hate 'em.

Meh, as long as he brings me an XBox and a Northface jacket I don't give a shit what he does.  Or who.

Jingle all the way, you son of a bitch...and to all a good night.

World's Edge: Unkillable Monster by M & K

Here sits a Diner.  A Diner full of the Dead.  The air is heavy, the place silent.  

The front door, desperately in need of oil, creaks open.  

A man walks in.  His head is down, shaggy Black hair covers his eyes.  He is dressed in a white button up shirt and black slacks.  His tie is Crimson with a Windsor Knot.  A small silver chain connects it to his shirt, the pin on the chain is the Shape of a Snowflake. 

If anyone ever asked him his favorite season, he would say Winter.  Sadly, that question will remain unasked.  

He steps gingerly over the corpses on the floor, sighing at the sight of them.  He thinks to himself about the wasted potential surrounding him.  He surveys the scene, taking an object from each body.  Wallets, watches, earrings, etc.  He moves to the booth closest to the door and sits down.  He then lays the objects on the table in an orderly line.  He begins to touch each in turn.  Feeling the weight of the wristwatch in his hands, leafing through the wallets, he breaths in the smell of their former owners.  His green eyes roll back into his head as it begins to loll from side to side.  He breathes in deep and holds it.  He begins to tap his fingers rhythmically on the table as he exhales.  

He begins to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing forearms covered in blue and black markings.  The markings are names.  Names of those that he has met along his journey from its beginning.  They are the names of those he has taken from this world.

"You can come out now", his voice like a whisper, "they've gone from this place."

The air in front of him begins to shiver.  It begins to take shape.  The form of a man appears.  He is old, with long gray hair pulled into a ponytail and a mustache.

"Barlowe.  It has been a long time my friend".

"I am not your friend, Bayne.  Friend is not a word I use to define myself in any capacity.  Woe onto you if you truly feel that you mean more to me than the puddle you are sitting in.  Also, you reek of fear."  Barlowe snorted.  "I find that to be delicious."

Bayne shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.  

"Ahem, I've come from on high to bring you a message.  He has use for you again.  He said that your time of wandering is done.  He needs you eliminate an obstacle from his path."

"He wants me to handle Nazareph.  The one He Christened as the Righteous Frost.  The one He Handpicked to fill the spot left by Lucius when he lost his edge and later his head.  Correct?" Barlowe said, already knowing the answer.

Bayne nodded his head.  He looked around the Diner.  The sight of the dead made him uncomfortable.  Barlowe could see it in his mannerisms.  A twitch here, a shake there.  He was chewing his lip in nervous anticipation of getting to once again fade into the ether.  

Barlowe wanted to see him sweat. 

He closed his eyes and lifted his hands to his face.  He opened his mouth and caught the small blue flame that escaped.  He caressed the flame in his hands, like a small pet.  It began to divide.  He threw the flames into the air.

Bayne watched as the flickering blue lights drifted through the diner, settling down on the corpses strewn on the floor.

The bodies began to stir.

"Please...." he said.

Barlowe smiled at him.  His teeth like daggers in his mouth only they were too long.  His lips began to bleed, the blood ran down his chin and began to pool on the table.

"No.  Please...I only came to bring the message..." Bayne cried out as the bodies moved to surround him.  They twitched horribly, almost as if they were in horrible pain.  Their eyes were solid white, their mouths hung open, teeth gnashing in the open holes.  

"Goddamn you...do the job you son of a bitch.  Do the job and then go away forever!" Bayne screamed as a hand groped for his shoulder.  

He snapped his fingers and disappeared into a cloud of smoke.

Barlowe looked unto the faces of the dead.  They stood motionless, awaiting his command.

With a flick of his wrist they crumpled to the ground.  

He sighed again, a sigh of pure annoyance.  

He watched as four new names appeared on the inside of his forearm.  He said goodbye to his new friends and assured them that they would never be forgotten.  They belonged to him now.  The time would come when he would call on them again.  Before the journey was ended he would call on them all.

They were all one inside of him.

He stood up, fixed his shirt sleeves and walked to the door.  He stepped outside into the rain.  He looked up into the sky and spoke.

"I'll do this deed.  Sadly, the cost will be greater than even You can imagine."

He began to walk down the street towards a dark alleyway.

The Zombie Discussion: Maybe She's Right but I'd Never Want to Say "I Told You So"

I am terrified of Zombies.  

If you know me this is no secret.  Not even a little one.  I will shut the Front Door Down when it comes to Zombies. 

Seriously.

Why?

When I was but a young lad and should have had a childhood filled with things like Disney and Dr. Seuss, my caregivers decided to forgo my well-being for their own needs and fed me a steady diet of R-Rated Sex, Violence and Horror.

Sounds shitty right?  

Actually, on the overall, I don't really care.  Hell, it probably attributes in some way to the person that I am today.  That guy is alright in my book.  

To clarify, I have no book. 

Now, I don't follow that philosophy with my own child.  Danielle and I agree that The 'Dozer doesn't need to watch that at this age (Read: 2 1/2).  When she's older, hell yea, I'm gonna teach her the awesomeness of George Romero, James Gunn, Peter Jackson, Sam Raimi, Neil Marshall, Dario Argento, etc. but not until shes like, 4 or so.

Sheesh, I am not Nazi Germany over here.  I believe in fun too.

Back to business.  I watched tons of horrible things in my childhood.  You were watching The Grinch and I was watching Killer Klowns From Outer Space.  Can you dig it?  I SAID, CAN YOU DIG IT?  

I knew you could.

As I write this, we are watching My Little Pony.  This serves to embarrass me as well as drive home my point.  

Ahem.  My fear started when I was around 5 years of age I would guess.  My caregivers had decided to throw us in the car and head out to the local Drive-In (Read: Breese, IL).  What's a Drive-In you ask?  Why, it's a huge projection screen out in the fresh air that you watch from your car.  They pipe the sound in through individual speakers or through your car radio.  Odd right?  I know...

Man, Drive-Ins were totally awesome.  

It was a Saturday Double Feature Night.  First was Beetlejuice, one of my favorite films to this day and in my honest opinion Michael Keaton's finest work, followed by Return of the Living Dead.  

Bingo.  Game Over.  Stick a fork in me.  I'm Done.

I had never, to this point, been so goddamn scared of something that I completely shut down.  Never.  I've seen some terrible shit mind you, like the entire catalog from the old Full Moon Entertainment production house.  This though...this warped me. 

Beetlejuice was awesome.  The bit where he turns from stair bannister to homicidal snake still messes with me but I digress.  It always leaves me feeling a little off, even to this day.  Movie did it's job as far as I'm concerned.

Return of the Living Dead.  Man...I didn't watch another zombie movie for twenty years.  I forced myself to go see the Dawn of the Dead remake in the theater so I would have to break my fear.  After that, I loved everything zombie...except Return of the Living Dead.  I even bought the special glow-in-the-dark DVD that came out a few years back so I could give it another go.  I got five minutes in (maybe) and wigged out.  

Any idea what it's like to be crippled by somethings that's not even real?  It's a Goddamn Bitch that's for sure.

Why does it mess with me so much?  It's because they talk.  Simple as that.  They talk and plan and scheme and give me the Heebie Jeebies something fierce.  Also, they don't die (Read: Redundant).  Destroying the brain don't stop 'em.  They just want to eat you.  Specifically, they want to eat your head...I can't even type that they want to eat your brains...ugh...goddamit....

Gives me the chills.

So, Danielle and I watch The Walking Dead every week and I'm currently reading World War Z which on occasion brings up the subject of the Zombie Apocalypse.  We were out doing some Christmas Shopping last night and someone on the radio commented on something about idiot people and a zombie apocalypse.  So we start talking.  She doesn't get how I can be so tripped out by this but I do.  Years ago I had an article featured on a website that no longer exists which laid out my survival plans in detail.  Now, while it was nowhere near the planning of the Handbooks you can find on the subject now, it was huge for me.  

See?  I've been a shitty writer for like, a decade.  Ha!

Fact is, I don't know what I would do.  I truly don't.  I'd like to think that I could hold my shit together and help to re-establish humanity and all that hero trite garbage but in reality, I just want to save the asses of those that I love and cherish.  If I saw someone I loved go down, I think I'd snap.  Probably not to the point of giving up but I think I'd dump out my Marble Sack and not get all of them back in.  I like to think I'd be more Rick than Shane but you just never know.  

So much would depend on when and where it all started.  It really would.  I can only hope that I would not be at work.  Sorry gang.  As much fun as it would be to fortify that joint and just hold up until the Armed Forces or Jesus arrived, I would want to be with my family. 

I like to think that I'd be able to shut off the emotion section on my brain and just start dispatching of those monsters all around us but I'm pretty sure that is some type of conditioned response...unless you're just broken to begin with.   That's what I think our collective problem would be.  I don't think that, at least initially, people could do what needed to be done.  You'd have people hiding Zombie bites and stashing corpses.  Messed up shit.  Like, barn full of Zombies messed up.  

Lord above, how could you ever think that would be a sane idea?  Come the Funk on, man.

It would be chaos.  Straight up.  All of these people that think they have a leg up because they wrote a book or made some fan film or played a ton of FPS games...garbage.  Just garbage.  You're no more prepared than anyone else.  Deal with it, champ.  Sorry.  

Ask yourself how you would handle it? I know, it's a near impossibility but still.  Ask.  Realistically.  Do you ever walk into a building and immediately notice a structural weakness that would get you Iced?  No?

Perhaps you should start.

While Danielle thinks that I'm nuts for being scared of this stuff, how far off are we from it?  Whats stopping some Umbrella Corp. type shit from happening?

Nothing.  Everything.  Who knows.  Not me that's for sure.

Let's Make a Deal Right Now.  Me and You.

Yes, You.

This goes down, you see me in danger, help a ninja out.  I'll do the same.

Just keep hold of your damn self.

My Imaginary Talk With Stephen King.

A blustery day at the ToT Lot with the EmmyDozer like any other.  

She is wearing her Black Marshmallow Puff Coat and Pink Jester Hat.  She carries a Princess Sippy Cup and Hello Kitty Happy Meal Toy.  She drops both to pick up a large stick that she then points to the sky, says something in what I can only imagine translates into a phrase that would offend someone from Germany, and begins to stir up a pile of leaves.

A wonderful day indeed.

I sit down, because I am dog tired from work, sickness and lack of sleep.  I open my current read which happens to be World War Z by Max Brooks.  I'm really digging it if you must know because he, unlike myself, is a fantastic writer not unlike Mr. Neil Gaiman whose Good Omens I finished a few days past.  

I sit reading about my most hated enemy and greatest fear (Minus Women), Zombies, whilst watching the 'Dozer enjoying herself and wiping snot on anything in sight from the corner of my eyes.  You know, like a good parent that still watches their bloody child even in a fenced in environment because God only knows what the Filth have left laying around in that park (Read: Broken Beer bottle that Emmy discovered two seconds before I did).  

Anyway, as I sat reading about the most horrible thing that could ever happen in the history of the world I began to drift.  My first thoughts were of the pork roast sitting at home in the crock pot on the counter because I am a chubby fellow and I loves me a good roast.  Deal with it.  I'm trying to slim down and the first step in that process was to walk away from Damnable Azeroth after SEVEN BLOODY YEARS and X Amount of money spent on a monthly subscription.  Keep your Pandas, you sons of bitches, I am done.

Ahem.  

In my mindscape a man sits down next to me and lights a Chesterfield.  Now, I don't think he smokes anymore but I feel that this was my brain punishing me for the years that I did and making me sick to my stomach even in my own psyche.  If he smokes, good for him.  He got hit by a van once.  He can do whatever the hell he wants.

He appears in his thirties in my minds eye.  Why?  Because its my imagination I suppose.  You don't like it, write your senator.  He looks at what I'm reading and snickers.  He mumbles something about my choice to read that over The Stand which he knows is next on my pile.  He knows this because Tyler Durden knows this.  

"Cute kid" he says.

"Uhm...thanks." I respond.  "Please don't do anything horrible to her.  I understand that this is in my head but somehow I don't doubt that you could hijack my Brain Pen and make her into some kind of energy vampire clown thing.  Now, I know that sounds awesome but for posterity, please hold back."

He laughs at me.  It's a good, deep laugh.  He coughs at the end.

"You should quit that shit, man" sayeth I, "it's poison."

"It's your image of me, boss.  It's like the Matrix.  The first one.  Not the two shitty ones that followed." he says to me through a toothy grin.

"Gotcha.  So whats up?  Why are you here?  I didn't die or something did I?  Are we on our way to the Tower???" I said with the candor of a schoolgirl.

"No.  What?  Jesus man.  Why don't you just chill out for a second." he responded,  "I'm here to tell you to stop writing.  Because you suck at it.  And you will never be me.  Because that is clearly what you want."

"Nuh-uh.  I want to be Warren Ellis.  I can find a ton of creative ways to say the F-Word and make up a Bunch of BS about InnerSpace and MacroVirus nonsense."  I said, holding back a little anger.  

"Shuddup.  You're a worse liar than a writer." he chuckled.

I nodded at the man.  He knows whats up.  He is me after all.  I don't feel right about this thought.  Not even a little bit.  So of course, like any adult, I argue with myself in my own head.  

The EmmyDozer in my head has become the EmmyNaut and is blitzing her way through a city that my mind has built for her.  As I watch her tear down the St. Louis Arch and straighten it so that she has a giant metal stick to now dig through piles of leaves.  She is now wearing Bright Neon Pink Body Armor is currently 20ft tall.  She is speaking fluent Russian.  I am proud.  The military are firing rockets at her.  The rockets are Ice Cream Cones.  She is smiling.

Imaginary Stephen King is smiling.  He is amused.  Good.  I'm glad that I can make my own subconscious happy in some regard.

"Something special about you, kid." he says, "Now if only you had talent."

"Uhm...what about this whole thing going down right here in front of us?"  I responded.

"Child's Play" he grinned.

It is now snowing on the 'Dozer,  She is building a giant snowman that she has named "Frosty" (Duh).  She is teaching it to speak French.  It is struggling.  She smiles at it.  She builds a small family for Frosty.  She builds a small SnowDozer.  

There is much laughter.

"It's such a bummer that my own brain thinks I suck at something I feel that I'm good at."  I said, sadly.

"Don't be such a wuss about the whole thing.  Just keep trying if you feel that's what you need to do.  Maybe some day you won't be terrible.  Hell, I was bad at some point."

"Really?"

"No, I'm Stephen King.  Taste the Beast."

And with that he smiled at me, waved to the 'Dozer and walked in the Ether.

I'm sure that he would never in a million years say Taste the Beast but in my head he did.  

That man is my hero.  He has written so many wonderful stories.  Someday, maybe god willing, I can write something even half as good as him.  

Until then, I'll just keep trying.

As long as at least one of you keeps reading.

*Also, if somehow Mr. King ever reads this PLEASE DON'T SUE ME.  Thank You.*

Fever Dream

*I wrote this a few years back after mixing a few medications that probably shouldn't have been mixed.  I was horribly ill and not thinking clearly.  Also, I decided to watch Apocalypse Now while riding this wave.  That film and multiple pots of coffee broke a friend of mine once.  I don't know if he reads this but sorry to bring it back up Jonathon.  I found this and for some reason decided to post it.  I'm sure it is terrible and makes no sense.  Call it modern art or something if it helps with the digestion.  As Barry Ween once said, "Modern Art is Mule Cum".*

Tick Tock.

Tick Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Tock.

Tock.  Tick.

Backwards world with colors of nightmare.  Walk into the mirror, silver reflection washes over you in waves of madness. 

Sit in the room.  The chair and you.  The cat stares beyond you.

Black as night, eyes of jade.  Sees through your lies.  Watches through air solid like love.  Ephemeral for eternity.

Touches upon the soul, wasting away as famine will do.  Watch the cat, it watches you.  The voices outside grow even louder.  Howling for you but the door is locked.  Safer than you could ever dream.

All of the windows are broken.  Bars protect, as do screens.  The bats on the roof sleep soundly.  

Move little but dance in a circle, by yourself or with the cat.  It cares not for what you want.  It is here as your warden of life.  Guardian?  Ask it.

It will not respond, it is a cat.  

You blink and it is gone.  You smile and it shrieks form the ether.  

The rain is falling on your head from above although there is no hole in the roof.  

Why are you here?  Where are you?  This is?  Questions?

Myths are dreams with answers pending, taste of your fears never ending.  

An odd way to spend your day wrapped in the plastic of dreams that smell of strawberries and taste like suspense.  

Its all fake you tell yourself in the mirror as the you that you see becomes a beast and flies off into the moon set.  You try to cry but only laugh which in turn makes you cry harder.  Madness is the ocean in which you float.  Your boat is made of joy and slowly is crumbling beneath you.

Wake up you scream to the moon.  

Not the moon but a hole in the velvet sky darkness staring down at you with uncompromising disregard.

Taste the world, drink it in.  

Sideways and crooked.

The cat stares at you from the chair, it smells your insanity.

Tick Tock goes the clock.  Water drips on your head. Tock Tick.

Wake Up.

World's Edge: Into the Rift by M. & K.

*Kaytlin has become incredibly busy so I have gotten her permission to continue the tale for the time being. Much love K, get back with us when you can.*

We Now Return to Our Regularly Scheduled Awesomeness...

Naz hated how she looked when she smoked.  He found the act of smoking in itself to be utterly disgusting even though he had done it for longer than he could remember.  When he no longer needed his lungs to function he was not sad to see it go.  More habit than anything, he found other ways to sate his oral fixation.  Mostly he would just grind his teeth.  His companions hated the sound, it was like two mountains scraping against one another.  He did it often. He did it when he was angry, happy, stressed or just when the mood struck him.  He enjoyed making others miserable.  It was part of the reason that he traveled alone now.  His taste for company had left him shortly after the events of the Reckoning.  


He hated when she smoked because she was still beautiful.  He hated her beauty.  He hated their past.


"Come" she spoke, with smoke trailing from her lips.  From his vantage it appeared that the blue-grey smoke was coming from her eyes as well.  


Vain Whore...he thought to himself.  Using your gifts for aesthetic appeal.  How...immature.   How...alluring.  

Damn You.  Damn all of you.  Why couldn't you have just left me to myself?  Why did you have to come and find me now...after all we went through and everything that we lost.  If only there was a way to make it all right again.  Well, as right as it could be.  Something so broken can only be mended a finite amount of times before it shatters away into dust and ash.  This world is no Phoenix.  


He followed her through the alley.  He sloshed through the muck as she seemed to float just above the surface.  He couldn't stop thinking about Talyn and what he had said.  If the Aspect of Madness had come out of hiding who else would soon make an appearance?  How long before Rage appeared or Deception?  It didn't matter to him truly, the only one that he was wary of was the Damnable Doctor that Nischa felt the need to grant the gift too.  Atrocities that never should have seen the light of day were what that man, if you could call him that, had given this world.  Uncontrollable abominations with otherworldly hungers and prone to escaping the Well in which he called home.  It was impossible for the man to keep a low profile, always needing fresh material to work with.  He was wasteful and careless.  Nischa had commissioned Kallibur to watch over him but even he was driven Strange over time.  Now instead of being a warden and watch keeper  he was more the gatherer of the damned.  To think of what the Doctor had done to his own wife and child...


She stopped at the end of the alley and was drawing a door on the wall with a Green Glowing Finger.  When she was finished, she reached her hand to her mouth, spoke a word into a closed fist and placed it upon the form of the door.  The drawing vanished leaving only a swirling red ether.  


It had been a long time since Naz had stepped into this Abyss.  He was going home again.  He was going to see his Brothers.


"If you don't hurry, I will not hesitate to shove you through.  You will not find my touch to be...kind."  she glared, clearly impatient.


"Continue to speak to me in that tone, wench, and I will teach you everything I have learned about being unkind.  Rest assured, I will keep you occupied for some time".  he spat.


"Promises, Promises."


They stepped into the swirling madness.

Dorothy's Toys: Prologue

D"On the day that I melt that godforsaken grin from your nightmare face I will finally find peace"  she told herself as she trudged through snow that was nearly at her knees and still falling.  

"Gods above and below how I hate this frigid hellhole" she said through chattering teeth.  

"Excuse me, mistress, but what is troubling you this day?"  a tiny voice squeaked at her side.

"That you have to ask is enough to make me wish that you had died that day.  The day he burned Haven to the ground."  she spat at him.

"Oh...I..." he mumbled.

"Just keep walking" she replied.  Her voice as cold as the world around them.

Her name was Dorothy and she hated this world.  She hated everything about it.  She hated that she was summoned here and she hated how her story had made her famous.  She was not a hero.  She never killed that witch.  She hit her head and dreamed the whole bloody thing.  She knows this because it's what the doctors had told her for years.  She drove her father to the bottle at first with her stories and her mother far, far away.  After she returned from her magical adventure life was never good enough for her.  She needed the talking lions, flying monkeys and magical little people in her life again.  She refused to listen to her friends or family.  She wrote everything that she could remember  down and sent her story to every magazine and newspaper she could.  No one believed her.  Why would they?  


Depression set in first...then the Delusions began.  


She wanted nothing more than to go back to that world and the friends that she had made.  She decided to take herself there.  


She tried pills the first time but didn't take enough.  She was horribly ill when they found her but still alive.  


After the bathtub incident she moved onto ropes in the barn.  Her mother left somewhere in between and her father just seemed to become a ghost of himself.  He withdrew into his room and wouldn't come out until he needed more whiskey or cigarettes.  


Her aunt had come to live with them after her mother left.  She cared enough to not let her finish the job but beyond that she was just interested in her father and his money. 


It was her idea to send Dorothy to the doctors.  The doctors with the needles and the tables that shocked you.  The doctors and the pills that made you see strange things like cats that sang songs in German and would walk through walls.  She had made a friend at the hospital that introduced her to the cat.  Her name was Alice.  


Alice was...unbalanced.

She had stories too.  Her story was much less pleasant than Dorothy's.  She talked of strange creatures and an evil queen.  About a Mad Man and the beheading of those that didn't tow the line

She wanted to go back there too but not for her friends.

She wanted to burn it to the ground.  Dorothy promised that she would take her there.

She checked herself into this place in hopes that she would find some way to get back there.  Find someone else that had been there too perhaps.  Someone that could show her the way.

Dorothy seemed like the answer to her question.  She had gone to another world as well after all.  It was no coincidence that they ended up in this hospital together.

After ten years of intense therapy and other...physical experimentation's they were released from the hospital.  They were cured.  


Actually, the state was running out of money and decided that the Asylum would make a better shopping mall than sanitarium.  


Dorothy's father passed away while she was in treatment and left everything to her aunt.  No family and no money, all she had was her friend Alice.  

Alice lived with a strange old man.  He was a hundred years old if he was a day.  Alice called him Sir.  She suggested that Dorothy not address him at all.

They spent their days in his rather extensive library, looking for anything that would help them get where they wanted to go.


They pursued any idea that sounded promising, from the white magic to the green to the black.  Sadly, nothing ever worked.  


They began to think that maybe they were both crazy after all.  Maybe the hospital was the best place for them.  Maybe they should find another one and just waste away in a padded room until they were dust.


The answer that they were looking for came several days later.  


A knock on a door.  A door in the middle of the floor.  A door that neither of them knew was there.  


He knew it was there.  He made it. He could change things.  Make things exist where they weren't before.  Make things...strange.


He knew Alice from long ago.  Time passed differently between worlds and things were not going well.  There had been a shift of power in the Wishing Well.  A great power was deposed and absorbed into another being.  A being once jolly and loved by millions had become as cold as his namesake over the centuries.  He tired of the stories and the laughter.  He decided that he was going to run the show from now on.  


His name was Frosty.  Now he was called King Snow.

The Calm Before or Give Me a Minute to Share a Memory Before We Kick This Pig.

Before we start I want to explain.  A story began over ten years ago.  It began when two awkward teenagers started to share ideas in gym class.  Two guys that had some weird ideas and liked things to be a little on the dark and strange side.  These two boys had one major shared interest: comic books.  They wanted nothing more than to put a book together, get picked up by a major publisher and tell the world stories that they thought were wicked.  Sadly, years pass and people fall out of touch.  I, personally, am absolutely terrible about maintaining friendships.  I am aware of this, you don't need to tell me (Talking to you Facebook).  Years pass and friendships fade but ideas are eternal.  The story has been in my head for years and yes, I'm sure its changed a million times just like I'm sure that my writing is just as terrible as it was then (I.E Worse) but I want to tell it.  It's probably a terrible story but we loved the idea.  Hell, I think he even drew the first issue.  I don't know if he still draws but if he does, man, he needs to share it.  This ninja has a gift.  I know that I have the story with Kaytlin and another currently nameless story that He is beginning to tell me about an Angel wandering a wasteland but I want to do this too.  I don't know what prompted me to start writing again after years of nothing but I am grateful.  I'm also grateful to those of you that take the time to read this drivel, even if you hate it, you still read it.

So, before we begin, thank you all for your support and love.

Thank you Mr. Santel for giving me permission to tell this story again after all these years.  You have always been one of my best friends, even with the distance between us.  A better brother than any of my blood.

I just hope I don't let you down.

I Hope that Malaysian Reader is the Prime Minister...

Traffic Stats for the Site -  I'm World Wide.   Now, if only I could make some monies off this.  Ha!   United States - 498

Canada  - 12

Russia  - 8

Germany - 3

Australia - 2

Malaysia -  1

World's Edge: Diabolyk

The world is full of forests.

Those forests are vast.  Those forests are full of secrets.  

Secrets are kept from the world in various ways.  

This secret is kept by a Well.

This well is in a forest.  The forest is dark, dense and deep.  Creatures live here.  Things of various shapes and sizes.  The creatures here are different than elsewhere.  They are unnatural.  

They have a keeper.  Once a man, now he considers himself a living Nightmare.  Once he was called James.  Now he calls himself Diabolyk.

A doctor in a previous life, he treasured life above all else.  Happy to save it, grieving at loss.  A noble man.  Noble until someone Changed him.  Someone, something, it matters not.

A frantic patient brought into the ER suffering from what appeared to be wounds given by some fierce beast changed this mans life.  The patient was different than any other.  She was tall and thin, porcelain white and when she spoke the room got cold.  

His first thought when he saw her was that she was dead already. She had the look of a banshee.  Long silver hair, dark rimmed eyes and pale blue lips.

It was her kiss that set him down the darkest road he could never have imagined.  Her kiss robbed him of his wife.  It took his two children.  They were gone yet thanks to his gifts...they would always be with him, just not as they were in life.

There is a well in a forest, the forest is dark and dense.  The forest hides the screams of the poor souls that have the displeasure of meeting Diabolyk. The screams go on for hours.  There is no shortage of unwilling participants for the good doctors experiments.  

Short in stature, broad in shoulder, strong and willful.  Often he would boast of his accomplishments to those in the scientific community, of the accolades and awards.  No longer was he competing with their Filth.  Now he was on a plain all his own.  His business was life itself.  

His life and that of Nischa, the one who burned his old eyes to give him his new sight.  

She took him away to the forest so dark, gave him the tools he needed to perform his work and the foundations for his research.  

He loved children the best.  He needed a steady supply of children for his work.  

Children make the best host bodies for The Aspects.

It's because of the Purity.

World's Edge: Madness Smiling by M. & K.

The World turned to waves.  He felt as if he was submerged in the waters of the Arctic.  His breath was frost.  His eyes were frozen.  

The pressure was crushing his body, he could feel his ribs cracking.

"Stop. This. Nonsense. Now." he choked through gritted teeth, "Talyn".

"Oh...whose son are you to stop my fun?  Oh no no no no, nowhere near done MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!".  


The words echoed from all around him.  The pressure let up and his eyes focused.  A tall slender man, so thin that when he turned sideways he seemed to disappear, stood before him.  He was dressed in a Red Velvet suit with matching Red Loafers.  A toothy grim that spread from ear to ear, eyes as large as saucers...his hair was short with blue tips and shined like a black star.  His voice was so high that only the Chosen could hear him.  If he spoke around the Filth you could watch the blood trickle from their ears...He liked to torture the Filth...He had no respect for anyone, either above or below in station.  To the Chosen it was like rubbing glass shards together when he spoke.  He spoke at length and always in rhyme.  He was not well liked but he had a job and he did it well.

"Talyn.  To what do I owe this displeasure?"

"I've come to say, that on this day, you must choose to pay or play."

"Above and below, how I hate your words.  Speak Plainly you Buffoon."

"Plain as I can ever be, where once were Four now there are Three.  The Horse still rides without its owner and now look at you, the Textbook Loner.  Shots you are big, this is true, you seem to forget there are more than you.  Do the work I love so well even unto those that fell. A warning perhaps or maybe more, maybe less, I don't keep score.  I would tell you who to trust but you listen as well as Dust.  Soon enough You shall see, The Safest Place is In Sanity"  

"Why have I been summoned?  Where is she leading me?  What do they want?" in a low grumble, he spoke.

"Mazikeen takes you where they want you now but don't despair.  Rahziel wants to meet, about what I know but will not speak.  More fun for me to watch you squirm. I owe you one, you unholy worm.  You'll survive, you always do and I'll always be there with you.  You might see me, you might not but rest assured, I know the plot."

Naz watched as Talyn began to disappear,  piece by piece he faded out of existence.  His eyes were last to go, always unblinking, wide with Emerald centers.  

His laughter haunting the alley way.

Mazikeen looked back and saw Naz stumble to regain himself.

"Talyn...I knew I felt reality go sideways" she said.  "Pathetic little man.  Always rhyming.  Its a shame that they have let him live this long."

"He is an Aspect, you imbecile" said Naz, "He is the embodiment of Madness.  You would do well not to underestimate him."

She reached into her jacket, pulled out a cigarette, lit it and said "You dare not Underestimate me either".

World's Edge: Disassociative by M. & K.

He lowered his eyes, searching in vain for something to say. Anything that wouldn't seem desperate or petty.

"Where is he?" he asked, not really caring what the answer was. If he could prolong this moment, he may be able to escape her gaze. He knew he could never escape her completely, or him for that matter, but here, in the diner, with the dead laying nearby, was certainly too close for comfort.

"You know where he is. And he's become impatient. Do you want your coffee to go?" She moved swiftly to hand him his cup of coffee and her graceful movements momentarily stunned him. "Nazareph. Now." She broke his trance by speaking brusquely and thrusting the cup his way. "Let's go."

She dared not touch him, nor he, her but there was a magnetic force that pulled him along as she walked out of the diner, now strewn with dead bodies. The lights still buzzed outside and the rain had slowed to an annoying drizzle. She moved gracefully through the alleys and before the Change, he would have had difficulties keeping up. She was moving north, toward the area he had just come from.

He thought he knew where she was going but then she took an abrupt turn down an alley darker than the previous ones. He noticed a hesitation in her step and suddenly the air became thick. Something had gone awry.

World's Edge: Kind Words by M. & K.

He could see Hell in her gaze.

A fire raged in the hazel curtains that covered the whites of her eyes. A beautiful fire.

She smelled of Monsters and Mad Men. She looked desperate and half-starved. Her Auburn hair was undone and wind wracked. She was not one to appear publicly a mess.

All eyes were on him, he had to do something. Now, questions raced through his mind.

What does she want? Is it time already? Where is Rahziel? Did he send her or was it Zacariah?

He smiled slyly at her. He was not one to smile. It meant something was about to go horribly wrong.

He stood and sighed deeply, twisted his head from side to side and breathed in deep as his neck bones cracked like a boxers knuckles.

"I hate you for this" he spat at her and then he was a blur.

The couple at the table had no time to register what was happening, they were dead before they hit the ground. The waitress was not so lucky.

He had grown fond of her and that crooked smile of hers. She wasn't special Per Se but she deserved a little more...attention.

He held her close and looked deep into here eyes. His cold blue turned to dark gray and she began to shake. Slowly at first but then into a violent frenzy as blood began to seep from her mouth and nose. His head tilted down, he placed a kiss on her lips as the life slowly left her fragile body. He drank deeply of her essence.

When he had drank his fill, he laid her body on the ground. It had turned as fragile as porcelain and as white as snow.

She looked at Him uneasily. It was never something that she had gotten used to, no matter how many times she had seen it. They were similar, that much was true, yet they were nowhere near the same.

He walked back to the table and sat down, grabbing a napkin to wipe the waitresses blood from his lips.

She handed him a cigarette. He placed it in his mouth and she extended her hand towards his face. A small Green Flame leapt from her fingers as she snapped them. He took a deep drag of smoke.

He took the burning stick from his lips, looked at it and exhaled a dark purple smoke from his nose. He looked into Her Hazel eyes and flicked the cigarette into her face.

"I quit" he said in a voice like a landslide.

"Apparently not everything" she replied. Her voice was like smooth velvet.

"Which one sent you?" he asked, his patience wearing thin.

"Which do you think", she said through a wicked smile, "Your baby brother wants to see you and he's not taking any answer but yes".

World's Edge: Reunion by M. & K.

He turned to ask the waitress for some creamer - anything to cut the coffee taste and it seemed just in time for him to catch a glance of the Handle as she swiftly glided past.

He had seen Her - and that Handle before. It seemed to be a murky memory, one that made him too nauseous and dizzy to even attempt to sort out. It seemed like it was around the time of the Change, maybe right before. Did she usually have a partner? Maybe a man with slicked back hair and a long scar over his right eye. Was that right or was he fabricating memories again.

He slammed down his spoon with frustration and the clatter made the waitress and it's other two patrons, including Her, snap their attention toward him. He lowered his eyes and brought the mug to his mouth, breathing in the steam. It certainly was Her, he wouldn't mistake that smirk and those eyes for anyone else.

Now the only question was, why was she here...alone?

World's Edge: Filthy by M. & K.

He hated the light. It didn't matter if it was the sun or the fake lights that the Filth had taken upon themselves to hang from every available rafter, roof and nail. He hated it all. He especially hated this flickering nonsense which was currently plaguing his eyes.

The coffee, if you could call it that, was coming back on him. It was quicker than usual he noted to himself, normally it would be another half-hour before the burning in his chest. The burning where his stomach should be...if he had one. The Change had taken care of that. He was something different now.

Something More. Something Less.

The waitress smiled at him as he opened the door. It was toothy and crooked. He reached for his side, instinctively with battle honed reflexes, and then took a deep breath.

She was just trying to be welcoming he told himself. She was not a threat. At least not to him.

He sat in the booth closest to the door, his long black coat dripping water noisily onto the floor. It mixed with the dirt and grease to become a murky puddle. He didn't even hear her approach, she had the footsteps of a phantom. He was too busy looking for the glimmer...too busy to notice the Ivory Handle in her right hand.

Worlds Edge: Shadow Play by M. & K.

As He watched the peons on the street dart through the rain with their flimsy umbrellas and newspapers held over their heads in a feeble attempt to stay dry, he noticed a persistent glimmer out of the corner of his eye. He slowly turned his head to get a better view and it suddenly disappeared. Now he felt like he was the one being watched.

This old abandoned building had always given him a sense of calm but now his senses were tingling and he was feeling uneasy. He needed to stretch his legs and shake off the feeling.

He descended the stairs, wary of the shadows that bounced off the dirty brick wall. He walked under the awnings to avoid the rain, but it didn't really matter; he was dripping already. He decided to grab a cup of coffee, the kind that burns as it goes down and tastes deliciously cheap.

He turned down the next alley to go to his favorite hole in the wall diner, a place where you knew the waitresses had been awake for 36 hours straight and the grease soaked through every inch of the joint.

He had gotten close enough to see the fluorescent lighting inside and hear the buzz of the neon lighted sign. And then he saw the glimmer again.

World's Edge: Beginings by M. & K.

Ok, here's the deal.  My girl Kaytlin well, she wanted to work on something together.  A collaboration of sorts so we decided that we would write a story together.  I wrote the start and her the next, back and forth and so on.  There is no roundtable on this, it is purely us pushing a story forward, working two separate angles and working from two different strengths.

We haven't talked about a title, that will come later.  I've also decided that instead of waiting for the whole bloody thing to finish, or never finish and fade away, I'm going to post it in installments as they are written.  The lengths of each installment will vary and it's going to have a different feel to every section.  You don't like it, feel free to skip it.  I'm excited as all hell about it.  I think it will be a trip. Gonna do the text in different colors so y'all know who is who.  I will be Green.  I will make her Red (unless she decides different)

Here we go:

The Rain fell in sheets, like a wet blanket that meant to cover the oozing wound that was the City. It wasn't enough that it was always cold. It wasn't enough that the pollution made it hard to tell day from night. You had to have the rain. The rain slowed down the world and let the Filth breed. It was an ugly place. Failed politicians and broken promises littered the landscapes like discarded needles and broken booze bottles.

He was soaked to the bone but he couldn't feel it. He perched on the rooftop of an old abandoned project. Abandoned by the city that spawned it maybe but inside it teemed with life. Life both honest and Filthy.

He loved it here.

It was His City.

Remington Strange or I Day Dreamed this at Work One Day.

*Part One*

It has been said that God created Man in his Image.

If that was true, what kind of God created Remington Strange?

Tall he was, tall and lanky.  Arms and legs like any other man but his were slightly...off...

Off how?

Well, they were blue.

The man was blue.  As blue as the afternoon sky.

The afternoon sky was a good way to describe him.  His hair was the color of the clouds.

He kept it short, long hair was a liability in his line of work.

He kept it short because he thought the ladies liked it.

He kept it short because, well, it looked shabby if he grew it.

What line of work would suit this blue skinned, white haired man?

Why, he was a Private Dick of course.  For shame that you would even have to ask.  Have you never heard the tales of Remington Strange?

No, I suppose you haven't.  For if you had there would be no need for this Introduction.

He kept his details to himself from his true name to his age.

Some say it was because he truly didn't know, others because he liked the mystery it created.

Truth?  You'd have to ask the man.  Oh, he would tell you, over some frosty beers.  Beers that you bought.  Beers that he only drank half of because hell, he wasn't a huge fan of the drink.  He just liked to get loose. 

You can get loose and still make a profit.  The man liked money.  He liked money almost as much as he liked women.  Sad part?  He never had much of either.  Now, don't get me wrong, the man was as charming as any could imagine but good luck finding a lady that can get past the Blue.

Why was he blue?  What was with that hair?

Hell, he didn't know.

That's the truth on that matter.

He could ask his folks if he knew who they were.  Sadly, this is one of those orphan type situations.

The man spent most of his life at the Spaulding Home for Orphaned Children.  Someone dropped this beautiful blue baby boy off on the steps years ago in the pouring rain.  Poor thing.

Why did they do it?  Ask them if you find them.  The man don't care none.  Sure, made him sad that he didn't know anything of who he really was but he made the best of it.

Plus, it left him open to play the mystery angle with his clients.

Also, with the ladies.

Now, he never was real popular with the other kids.  He was your typical outcast child.  He liked to read.  What kind of books?  He liked the books about detectives. Should have seen that one coming.  Really.  They didn't pick him for sports.  Suited him fine.  He had better things to do, he had cases to solve.

Sure, they were all in his head but you have to start somewhere.

No one wanted to be friends with the little blue boy.

You didn't need friends if you had yourself a vivid imagination.

*End Part One.*

Teaser Trailer or The Emmy Kraken: Prologue

On the Ocean there sailed a ship.

The ship was big, perhaps the biggest ever built by human hands. 

Sadly, it was not the biggest ever conceived but when those who follow dreams will often smack their heads on glass ceilings.

The ship was big.  It cost a lot of money.  It was full of people.

These people, why, they wanted to party.

There were drinks, oh yes, drinks to be had.  There was food from all around the world.  Someone spent a fortune to create this floating metropolis.

Theaters, work-out studios,tennis courts.

You want it?  They had it. 

The ship was Impregnable.  It was gorgeous.  It was...well...it was gaudy.

Inside were mosaics of all kinds, from naked folk to gods of the sea.  Pleasant to the point of being offensive perhaps but it would depend on ones inner workings. 

It sailed across the sea.  Lord, it was loud.  These people were here for fun.  The noise could wake the dead.  It could wake the sleeping giants under the Earth.  It would wake the Dragons that slumber in the mountains around the world.

It woke something much worse.

It woke the EmmyKraken...

Now for Something Completely Trademarked or Solo Album

Sitting on the couch with an empty plate that once held delicious Mazzio's Pizza.

One half full can of Ski.

One Noisy Dog that doesn't realize she weighs close to one hundred pounds has made her bed across my Hobbit like feet.

Underworld: Evolution is in the DvD player.  Yes, its a DvD because I am broke so take your Blu-Ray nonsense and go bother some other brother.

I aspire to have one by Christmas but lets continue.

Not sure why I put this in but meh, its in and I'm writing so all is well.

Danielle is asleep.  I believe the Dozer is as well.

Just Me, Lucy and Kate Beckinsale.

I am getting surgery tomorrow.  It is not dreadful.  It is Wisdom Teeth removal.

I can only assume I will come out of this slightly dimmer like when you replace a 60 watt bulb with a 45.

Also, I believe there will be painkillers.

As I watch this movie, telling myself that once I finish typing this I will change it to something more tolerable (28 Days Later sounds good) I have begun to imagine how this procedure will go tomorrow.  I will now lay it out for you, Dear Friends, in my own special way.  Lets begin.

10:00am - Danielle drops me off at the Dentist because she thinks that I will be unable to drive myself home.  I feel otherwise but because I am smarter than the average married man I silently agree and shuffle inside.  Book in hand because my appointment isn't until 11:00am.

*This Movie is not good.  This dog is drooling on my feet.*

11:00am - I am taken in and strapped down.  Curious.  The doctor comes in, all smiles as usual, and briefs me as to what is about to transpire.  I am wary.  He leaves.

11:15am - He returns with two nurses and begins to set-up his equipment.  He preps a needle and reaches for my arm, telling me that he has decided it be best for me to not be awake for this after all.  I am hesitant.  He is a professional.  I give him access to my vein.

11:20am - I am asleep.

*Scott Speedman is a terrible actor.  I mean, really.*

12:00pm - I am awakened by strange noise.  My eyes are hazy.  The nurses move to calm me.  They appear to be Dinosaurs.  Upon further inspection, yes, they are Dinosaurs.  I am confused.

12:10pm - The Doctor re-appears.  I am still restrained.  I am not happy.  Why are there Dinosaurs working on my teeth?  Did I miss an article in Mens Health somewhere along the line?  I try to ask questions to no avail.  My mouth is incredibly numb.  Probably a good thing.  Also, it smells of Strawberries in this office.

*Killed a Spider.  God, I hate Spiders*

12:15pm - Doctor begins to speak to me in a strange voice.  My eyes are clear enough now to see that he is not a Doctor but a Jester.  I feel that a credential check may have been in order.  Sadly, too late now.  More confused by the minute.

12:30pm - Evil villain soliloquies commences.  Something about bloodlines and a revolution.  My mouth hurts.  I am no savior, merely a dental patient.  He must be confused.  I listen.  After a time, I decide he must be stopped.  But how?  Ah, an idea.

*How awkward it must have been for the director of this movie to film a sex scene with his ex-wife and Scott Speedman.  It's awkward enough for me.  Because I don't like Scott Speedman.  Also, COOKIE BREAK

12:45pm  - Finally done talking.  Ok Mister Jester Man and your Velociraptor assistants, prepare to feel the rage of me with some friggin' Wolverine claws.  Bet you never saw that coming did you dummies?

12:46pm - Chaos ensues.  All hell, yes, its broken loose up in here.

1:00pm - I walk out of the office covered in green dinosaur blood with a bag full of stolen, no, liberated dental hygiene products and wait for my ride.  My mouth still hurts.  I will have to find a new dentist.  What a strange day.

*Why are they making a Fourth Underworld film?  Is that a strange dream of mine too?  If so, it will probably be terrible.*

I'm sure the real thing will be much less interesting and much more painful.

Leon: The Professional is going in the DvD Player.

I love Gary Oldman.  He is a chameleon.

Goodnight Moon.

Story Time With Daddy or Its a Long Car Ride Home

On the way home from a wedding in Mt. Vernon last night I decided to make it my mission to keep The 'Dozer awake so that there was no powernap recharge for her special brand of lunacy.

I did this in the normal ways one torments a child:

Tickling.
Taking Away Her Blanket.
Fish-hooking.
Giving Her the Mandible Claw ala Mick Foley.

Typical things a father does to a two-year old.

Then it dawned on me that I could just tell her some stories to keep her captivated.  Brilliant.

Now, being two she doesn't have the wide range for story preference that her parents do so I had little to pick from. Luckily enough we read her the same bloody story every night so it's almost committed to memory.

The Story?

"The Rainbow Fish" by Marcus Pfister

http://www.amazon.com/Rainbow-Fish-Marcus-Pfister/dp/1558580093

(There be a link if y'all be interested.)

So, here is my abbreviated version of said story with no sleight intended to Author or Production House/Distributor:

So ok, there was this fish in the ocean and he was really pretty, like super pretty.  He was all rainbow colored and had him some silver scales.  Everyone was so Jelly of him.  So Jelly you could spread them on Toast even.  They called him The Rainbow Fish.

One day he was swimming around the Ocean doin' his Rainbow Fish thing and this little Blue Fish swam up to him.  He was all like "Hey Man, Can I get me one of them Silver Scales You Got There?  Like a Real Small one Even?" and the Rainbow Fish was all like "Naw."  The Little Blue Dude was all like "That's Cold, Bro" and swam off.

Now, he must have told all the other fish about this cause no one wanted nothing to do with the Rainbow Fish no more and he was Mad Upset.

He was so upset that he went to the Starfish, which no one does 'cause what good is a Starfish right?

Anyway, he told the Starfish what was up and the Starfish told him to go see the Wise Old Octopus down the way in a Cave.  The Starfish pushed it off on someone else.  "What a surprise" the Rainbow Fish muttered under his breath as he swam on to the Octopus cave.

"Woah there Rainbow" said a Deep Voice.  It was the Octopus.  "You look like you got Ten Tons of Trouble in a Five Ton Box.  What's up?"

The Rainbow fish took that ugly bag of snakes and laid 'em out straight for her.

"Well, what you gotta do is give away your scales.  That way you see that sharing is caring and it will make you feel better" sayeth the Octopus.

"Uhm...no?  How Could that possibly..." Rainbow began to spout but the Octopus was gone, disappearing into a cloud of ink.

Just then that little Blue Dude popped back up and was all "Hey Ninja, can I get one of them scales now?"

The RBF thought about it for a minute and then plucked out a little silver scale and gave it to him.

"Thanks bro!" said the little blue dude and off he went.

The RBF turned around to head back home, silently pondering how that little Bugger knew where he was which turned into the beginning of a conspiracy theory.  Thankfully his train was derailed by all the other fish in the Bloody ocean.  That little Blue jerk told everyone that The RBF was givin' away scales like tube socks at a Swap Meet.

So, as they surrounded him he began to pull out his scales and hand them to the other fish, just like the Wise Old Octopus had told him to do.

When all was said and done he looked out into the ocean and saw all the shining silver darting around and yea, he did feel better.  He gave all his special scales away save one. 

"I guess its good to share" he said to himself.

"Hey Rainbow!" said some Green and Yellow fish, "Get on over here and play with us!"

And away he went, as fast as a splash.

The End.


Now, Danielle tells me that I get all street when I tell stories and I guess that's true.  It's just my nature I suppose.  I also told her an abbreviated version of "The Paper Bag Princess" as well and I will post that if anyone wants to read it.

Link for that  is here:

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_9?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=the+paper+bag+princess&sprefix=the+paper

No One Can Hear You or I Almost Took It Into Space, Tarvis.

"Hurr".
"Hurr".
"Hurr".

Echoing down the corridors.

The thing was breathing, labored it would seem but alas, twas the sound it always made.

The Stomps that accompanied the sounds made the floors shake and the doors rattle.

The Beast was huge.

It stank.

It was Hungry.  It was always Hungry.  It never stopped eating.  It would eat the world if it would fit in its jaws.

No one knew it truly, the only ones to see it ended their lives in its gullet and their afterlives in piles behind it.

Animal?  ROBOT?  Alien?  Demon?

It came from the Darkness.  These fools had opened a doorway.  Stupid, stupid men.

It was a simple enough assignment.  Fifteen men and women headed out to the Frozen Wastes of the South Pole to investigate a disturbance with the Earth's Magnetic Field.  Granted, it was dangerous but it should have been Mother Nature they feared.

Not some god forsaken Beast born from Chaos.

The machine was experimental, paid for by Frost Tech Inc.  It was supposed to measure wavelengths and spot weaknesses in polarities.  Sadly, it did much more than that.  It did its job well, too well...perhaps it truly did what it was supposed to all along...perhaps this was all a lie...

The life of a man is cheap when compared to the benefit of science.

They did something, they opened something...they let something loose.

A horrific, shambling Lovecraftian beast.  Black as night, teeth the color of Onyx and able to bite through steel.  It did not sleep, it did not dream, it did not rest.  The cold phased it not at all, it was built for it perhaps with its think coat of razor sharp quills which shed everywhere it went, still it remained covered...

Where once there were fifteen, now there two.

The project director and his daughter.

They had named this beast...they called it Lucy.

She was out there somewhere, she had torn through the compound to make her own doors.  She wandered where she please, always looking for something to eat...or someone.

Trails of her slime drool were everywhere, pools of foul smelling liquid that had its own unique glow.  It was they only light that they had.  The Beast had eaten the Generators.

When they were certain that it was out in the Wastes they would move from room to room, looking for food or weapons.  Something to fight the Beast or even a way to contact someone.

Anyone.

They knew they could not run.  The Wastes would take them withing hours of leaving the walls.

They were trapped with this Horror.

They prayed it would leave.  Just go back to where it came or find somewhere new to terrorize but inside they knew it couldn't go back.  It had eaten all they equipment.  If it made for a new land, they couldn't warn anyone and the cycle would begin again.

Stopping the Beast was their only hope.

They made their way quietly to the Comm Room at the South End of the Compound, always with both ears open.  The slime pools lit their way.

Strangely enough, there was silence.

The director began to cobble parts of the broken gear together, hoping to repair the Comm unit enough for them to get a signal out.  The girl watched dutifully out one of the windows.  Looking for any sign of the Horror outside.

Nothing.

After awhile she began to drift...

Darkness took her...

A loud clang woke her from her slumber, startled, she turned to see her father smashing what he was working on to bits.  Furious with his failed attempts to fix the machine he had decided it better to destroy it.

She moved to stop him, before the noise would attract attention but it was too late.

"Hurr".
"Hurr".
"Hurrrrrrrr".

It was close.  It was hungry.

The man grabbed his daughter in his arms and ran for the door as the Beast came crashing through the wall.

They ran from room to room with the Beast right on their heels.

In the Darkness they ran, making blind turns and trying to stay ahead of the Horror behind.

The chase ended in the Kitchen.  The Freezer.

The door slid shut and all was quiet...

It seemed like an eternity had passed before they felt the familiar tremor from the footfalls of the Beast...

It was here, right outside the door.  It could smell the fear behind the steel.

It was soon to be over.

A loud howl went up on the other side of the door followed by the scraping of metal on claw.

The Beast's enormous head broke through the door, its teeth gnashing and its tongue lolling lazily in its maw.  Bio-luminescent slobber ran from its jaws like a small stream...

It pulled itself through what remained of the freezer door...it pinned the girl down with its enormous paws...she looked into its giant yellow eyes...its head lowered....


"Lucy!  Leave her alone!"

The Horse of a Dog looked upon the man with that silly dumb dog grin as she cocked her head to the side.  The girl wiped the slobber from her face, giggling and all smiles.

"Stupid Dog".

Emmy Two-Times or Laws of the Old West

"And STAY OUT!"

The Saloon doors flew apart as the body of a whiskey soaked moron finished its flight and landed on the dirt street outside.

"Ugh, what I wouldn't give fer some respectable clientele 'round here" said a sweet voice.

The voice matched up to a sweet woman, thankfully, sweet but able to hold her own in a scuffle.  She ran her saloon with an iron apron.  Her name?  Miss Danny.  The Place?  The Thornless Rose Saloon.

The place was nicer than most really.  It was dirty, sure, but what joint wasn't?

Ten round tables in the main hall for card playin' and booze swillin' with a modest bar was what you saw when you walked in.  A staircase that led both up and down as well.  The decor was sparse but nice.  She would make sure that each table had a vase with fresh picked red roses from out back.  Now, while the usual riffraff may not appreciate the flowers then served to make the Lady feel better about her day and in reality, that what really mattered.  If she wasn't happy wasn't no one happy.

Six of the tables were occupied this evening.  Only one was full.  There was a poker game of sorts happening and in this small town, that was good enough entertainment for the night.  Buffalo Joe was sittin' on a  nice stack of cash.  Kansas Kenny wasn't too far behind.  Mississippi Mike was mostly just a drunk but he had some scratch left to burn.  Nevada Nick was on his last leg and you could see on the mans face, beyond the beads of sweat, that this was not how he planned for his night to go.  The last player at the table sat quietly, tapping her coins on the table.  Her hat covered her face but you could still make out the blonde curls underneath.  Embroidered on her jacket was a small Snowman.


Her name?


Emmy Two-Times.


Her game?  Being cute and winning at cards.


The game had already been going on for hours and tensions were high.  Buffalo was cheatin' and everyone knew it bout couldn't prove it.  Hands had reached for gunbelts on multiple occasion but no iron was ever skinned.  The whiskey, if you could call it that, was flowin' freely.  Two-Times drank her usual, Apple Juice on the Rocks.


It kept her Level.


As the night progressed the players dropped out.  It was never graceful.  Mike went out before Nick, surprisingly, but didn't leave the bar.  He just slid drunkenly to the floor and lay there, passed out and dead to the world.  Nick was taken out by a bad bluff and a cold-hearted Kenny.  Kenny in turn lost his winnings to Two-Times.


Buffalo and Two-Times sat in silence, trying to find each others weakness.


The hands fell in turn.  No one gained any ground.

Stalemate.

Mexican Stand Off.

"Next Hand takes the Haul" spat Buffalo through tobacco stained teeth.

A silent nod from Two-Times.

"Yer Deal" said Joe.

Emmy dealt the cards.  Three and Two.

The stakes were high.  Buffalo was not one to lose.  The man didn't have what one would call and even temper.  Two-Times stared the man down, silent but with a slight smirk.  It was said that she got that from her father.  Her smarts from her mother.  That smirk would get right under your skin, make you feel like you were done.  She had you at that point.

Was it a Bluff?

Only she knew.

Joe laid his hand.  Four Jacks Ace High.

She was beat and she knew it.

She laid her cards face down and stood up.  She tipped her hat to the man.

He spat Tobacco on her Boots.

She scoffed.  Reached for her Apple Juice and threw it right in his face.

There was much giggling.

He stood, outraged and reached for his holster.  As he reached, a slew of cards fell from his sleeve.

"Dirty Cheat!" shouted Mike from the floor.  The splash of the juice had woken him, if only momentarily from his drunken slumber.

Buffalo turned to run, slipped on his own tobacco spit and fell face first to the floor.

Mississippi hoisted him by his own gunbelt and threw him out the batwing doors of the saloon into the street.

"Don' you be comin' back here no more yeh dirty cheatin' sum' buck!".

He walked over to Emmy and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

"Go tell yer Momma to get us some fresh drinks, kiddo."

"Ok Daddy".

They smirked at each other and walked to the bar.

Ninja Academy or Mandatory CherryBlossoms

All is silent.
Nothing Stirs.
Even the Cherry Blossoms are unmoving.

Suddenly, as thought lightning has taken corporeal form...

A Flash...

A small child, gifted in the art of stealth, glides across the landscape towards a large wooden door.
The door?

Clearly, tis the Entrance to M's Ninja academy.

Day One -

Stealth Training.

Instructor - The Father of Silent Awesomeness

"Young Ninja of the Land on High, You have been accepted into the prestigious yet secret Ninja Academy.  Congratulations.  You may ask,how can it be secret and prestigious at the same time?  My answer is this, Shuddup.  Now, I understand that your dream is to become a ninja of the Mighty Case Clan.  I assure you that this is no small feat.  You must gain the approval of two key members of said clan.  One being myself and the other my counterpart.  The Multi-Talented Mother of Ninja Toddlers, Lady D."

The Young Ninja Hopeful stares up at the Master, silent yet mischievous.  

There is a fire in those eyes, a fire that will cause the world to say "Awww...how cute"...

"Today is your first day little one.  Today is the first day of what will possibly be a cute little adventure story that will possibly break down the fourth wall on occasion and cause a little joy in the lives of anyone that reads of your greatness.  Wait...uhm....Scratch that fourth wall nonsense...just forget it...ugh..."

*The Master proceeds to drop a smoke bomb in an attempt to get away...as the smoke clears he is still standing there, eating a Hostess Fruit Pie.  What Flavor?  It appears to be Apple.*

"Ahem, today we will begin with  a lesson in enemy detection.  I will vanish from room to room and you must find me without me finding you first.  If you fail and I get to you first, the punishment will be most severe.  Are you ready, Ninja Toddler?"

A silent head nod is given.

"Begin!"

*The Awesome One vanishes in a cloud of smoke.  The young Ninjaette begins to give chase. From room to room she stalks silently, sadly however, no sign of her master can be found.  As she enters the final room for inspection a sense of dread overtakes her...he must be in here.  She takes a deep breath, exhales slowly and silently enters the room.  Suddenly, the door slams behind her and there stands her master, scowling like a demon from below.*

"Lesson One is over Child! You have FAILED! Always check behind doors!  Now, your punishment!"

The child falls to the ground in a fit of laughter as the ticklefight has begun!

EmmyNaut: Judgement Day or Blankie Fort Memorial

Pieced together from testimonials by those that lived:

September 20, 2011

A wonderful day, truly it was.  The fine folks at Blanket & Chair Forts Limited were sponsoring the annual DismalWeatherSoWeStayInside Day event at the Olive St. Park.  There was a Cheerio Buffet and Apple Juice for all.  Beauty and the Beast were on stage beckoning us to be their guests.  They even had a Caged LucyFur for the children to see, brought straight from the Bavarian wilds.  The best part is that it was free!

But not free of destruction...

The Event Bells Rang at 10am, as was planned and the Giant Kitchen Chairs were placed in four Strategic Locations.  A surprise fifth chair, a small wooden rocker, was also brought in to the applause of the crowd.  After the chairs were secured, the Blankie was unloaded from the back of a large trailer.  This year it was Green with White Patches.

Marvelous.

The draping of the Blankie was quick enough and when finished, it covered the whole of the landscape.  All in attendance were shaded by its majesty.  A peaceful occasion to say the least.

Somewhere in the crowd a comment was made.

"The Blankie, it shakes...Look!"

Sure enough, the Blankie was indeed shaking.
As was the ground...But Why?

The Answer came quickly enough...the shadow of destruction slowly came into view...The EmmyNaut had returned...

The Scion of Chaos, the Beast from the Mid-West, the Terror that Giggles.
She has many Names:

The EmmyDozer
SnoopAloop
Scoobatron 5000
EmmyHontas

She stood, tall and terrifying...Her Pink Glow in the Dark Skeleton PJ's stained with the remains of her Breakfast.  A deep breath and a bellowing "ROAR" were enough to shock the scared townsfolk back into reality..

They fled as she charged...

Straight through.  Without Stopping.

The Blankie was down, as were the chairs.

All that could be heard was the taunt of the Beast - "I'm Unstoppable!" she yelled!

Attempts were made to raise the chairs and rebuild the fort but they were thwarted each and every time...

After freeing the LucyFur and then turning her into a Makeshift Mount the beast bounded away yelling "Ponies!".

Reports have come in stating that she now sits on a couch, holding a play Microphone while pondering her next act of senseless violence...and watching Pocahontas...