Romantic Dinner For One

I look around in this cruise ship restaurant
See things I can’t have, but desperately want
Missed opportunities gone with the wind
Sloth has always been my favorite sin

A newlywed couple celebrating their love
Wife dressed like an angel from the heavens above
Husband feeding her strawberries and cream
Won her over by treating her like a queen

A college graduate partying with his friends
Looking at life through a rainbow-colored lens
He’ll make money most will never ever see
More competitive fuel for his Face Book screen

A child dreaming big as she eats chicken nuggets
Untainted by reality, she appreciates and loves it
Drawing pictures of dinosaurs and dragons
I’m over here trying to fight off the maggots

A sportsball team celebrating their victory
Their names immortalized in gritty history
Eat like heavyweights, move like flyweights
Calories to burn from steaks and white cakes

A pale young man has just beaten his addiction
He could inspire others in a book of nonfiction
Was it heroin, beer, social media, or food?
I could use some ice cream to go with my mood

Whoever said the internet breeds bitter jealousy
Never had to dance to their own tragic melodies
In a room full of strangers who live like kings
Romantic dinner for one, the song that I sing

Don’t need sympathy, just some understanding
I reached for the stars, but had a crash landing
They say there’s no time limit for life to begin
I’m still waiting for the day I can finally win

3 From Hell

MOVIE TITLE: 3 From Hell
DIRECTOR: Rob Zombie
YEAR: 2019
GENRE: Serial Killer Horror
RATING: R for violence, language, and nudity
GRADE: Fail

Being a naysayer isn’t easy for me, especially when the director is a musician I’ve seen twice in concert and own every album of. I went into this movie with an open mind like I always do. And really, who wouldn’t want to watch a bloody movie with gritty dialogue and three serial killers for main characters? You’ve got Otis Driftwood, a Charles Manson-like murderer with a nihilistic agenda and the mouth of a sailor. You’ve got his half-brother Foxy Coltrane, who howls like a wolf and shoots like a redneck. And then you’ve got Baby Firefly, Otis’s psychotic sister who could basically be described as Harley Quinn on steroids. The performances of these three characters were…kind of convincing? I guess? Maybe their body of work in this movie was overshadowed by the cheesiness of the story and side characters. That’s unfortunately a theme going into this review: cheesier than a pepperoni pizza. Some people don’t mind cheesiness. Me? It became too much for me.

One of the ways in which the cheesiness hampers the film is in the violence. Stabbing, shooting, skinning, torture, these are all things that are supposed to look disturbing on the screen, especially considering this movie is in the horror genre. But something about these killings made them lackluster. Maybe it happened too often to be special. Maybe it’s recycled bloodshed from movies of the past. Or maybe there’s not a whole lot creative about stabbing and shooting in the first place. Even the scene where a Mexican gangster is burned alive felt like a moment of meh. While Otis, Foxy, and Baby were all convincing as serial killers, they didn’t actually scare me to the point of this movie qualifying for the horror label. The actors did everything they could to bring the bloodshed to life, but it wasn’t enough. Something was off about this brand of violence and I can’t quite put my finger on it. I wanted to care, but I couldn’t.

Something else that bothered me was the idea that the antagonists had multiple chances to off the three killers and they didn’t capitalize. These antagonists had guns, knives, and everything in between. They even had numbers on their side and still couldn’t get the job done. You know what really sets the tone for this theme of going too easy on the killers? In the beginning, they were shown getting life-saving treatment at the hospital just so Captain Spalding (from the previous Rob Zombie movie) could die by lethal injection and be replaced by Foxy. If these killers are so dangerous, why even bother saving their lives? Why bother giving them their own fan club? Yeah, I know hybristophilia is a real thing, but even that came off as cheesy and forced.

Are we going to get a fourth movie in this Rob Zombie franchise? Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows? If the negative reaction to 3 From Hell is any indication, then maybe it’s time to hang up the boots. Perhaps if there is a fourth movie, it’ll rejuvenate the franchise. But getting the audience to go to that fourth movie would require a lot of faith, most of which was broken by this cheesy effort called 3 From Hell. A failing grade goes to this piece of horror cinema. I wanted to like it, but I couldn’t get into it, especially as the story progressed and somehow got boring after the initial shock wore off. This movie is no good. Sorry, Rob. You tried.

The Babylon Killers

VERSE 1
He takes award-winning pictures of sensual snacks
It’s the locker room photographer Rutherford Jax
Exposing your flaws with just one snapshot
Micro dick and two cherries are all you’ve got
Sell your dark secrets to the highest bidders
Your mother, your father, and your babysitter
Your boss, your woman, and the public at large
The highest prices are all that he’ll charge

CHORUS 1
It ain’t no mystery wrapped up in a thriller
No sock puppets here, just The Babylon Killers!

VERSE 2
Every time you call journalism a mental disease
You have to get passed Miss Emerald Ruiz
A hit piece that knocks the air out of your lungs
Emasculates your balls, soprano songs are sung
Whether you’re a racist, a sexist, or worse
Your own words and actions are your own curse
Canceled for waving your confederate flag
Savaged everywhere for calling gay people “fags”

CHORUS 2
Your slurs and your whining are newspaper filler
No brainwashed zealots, just The Babylon Killers!

VERSE 3
If the right to fight is still haunting your dreams
Let me introduce your ass to Matthew Scream
You can throw the first punch for no price
When he throws one back, grab the bag of ice
Knees to your gut and boots to your nuts
Teeth to your neck, such delicious blood
Fingers in your eyes, you can tap out or die
Who’s the snowflake now? Go have a good cry

CHORUS 3
No lies for a prize, just some hard truth spillers
No boot lickers here, just The Babylon Killers!

VERSE 4
You’re a keyboard warrior with multiple personas
You’d say and do anything as long as you’re noticed
You’d break the law while flapping your jaw
You know we’ll fight back, it’s the final straw
Use your own bullying tactics against you
Until there’s nobody left to defend you
You’re a sad little lad who’s clearly gone mad
All because you couldn’t hack it, too damn bad

CHORUS 4
You’ve got sock puppets, but you’re an army of one
We’re The Babylon Killers, until the job is done
You’ve got nothing left but some ashes and tears
I’ve got The Babylon Killers and nothing to fear
And nothing to lose, not even a little snooze
Fucking with me is not a road you want to choose
If you gave up your campaign of venom and rage
You’d have something better than a crappy page

Cancelproof

VERSE 1
You can’t take away what you never gave me
I’m resigned to the fact that nothing can save me
I never sold out because I had nothing to sell
Nobody ever noticed when I was burning in hell
You never heard my name until I made the mistake
You never heard the sound of my cold heart break
You think my ass is over? It never even started
Nobody even cared when I joined the departed

CHORUS
Over my head, I’ve still got a roof
I can still be numb, I can still be aloof
Can still be the one who knows the truth
Lay down your arms, because I’m cancelproof

VERSE 2
A one man army against the whole fucking world
I’m clutching my machete, you’re clutching pearls
The battle will be over in just a tiny little while
When somebody else doesn’t conform to your style

CHORUS
Over my head, I’ve still got a roof
I can still be numb, I can still be aloof
Can still be the one who knows the truth
Lay down your arms, because I’m cancelproof

BRIDGE
A bible thumping troll is nobody’s friend
An alt-right sadist feels brave after hitting “send”
Did you think I was buddy-buddy with you?
Get fucking real and tighten your loose screw

VERSE 3
Fighting with you is like pulling out teeth
Acid reflux is much more enjoyable to me
I’d rather be water-boarded five hundred times
Than go toe-to-toe with the internet slime
Nobody changed their minds after the war
We’re still pissed off, still rotten to the core
Why don’t you shut up every once and a while
Instead of spitting out that conservative bile

EXTENDED CHORUS
Over my head, I’ve still got a roof
I can still be numb, I can still be aloof
Can still be the one who knows the truth
Lay down your arms, because I’m cancelproof
You shoot like a drunk and drool like a goof
You should be the one who’s not cancelproof
You shout racial slurs, call gay people poofs
You’ll never in your life become cancelproof

The Dark of You

There was no glory in being stuck in a cat cage at the Humane Society. Then again, being punched and screamed at by Dr. Claw was the entire reason for MAD Cat being here in the first place. He hissed at the memories of having his head pounded in. He curled in the corner as every insult played in his traumatized mind. The one memory that brought wetness to his eyes was when Dr. Claw smashed MAD Cat’s Inspector Gadget toy bank to pieces.

The black and gray feline tucked his face in his paws and allowed his tears to flow freely. These kinds of emotions were forbidden in his former life of crime and villainy. But in this animal shelter with other meowing felines and barking canines, MAD Cat didn’t have any choices when it came to showing vulnerability. The bumps on his noggin and the redness in his eyes did enough of that for him.

His heart fractured in two at the thought of being potentially adopted by a loving family…mainly because he didn’t know what that was supposed to look like. He didn’t know what love was. He had a vague idea of it for all of the times that Dr. Claw petted him. But if that was his only reference point, then he earned every tear that fell from his bloodshot eyes.

MAD Cat wanted a second chance at life. He wanted to be the loving and sweet kitty that his caretakers at the Humane Society needed him to be. Whenever an ordinary human walked by his cage, he would roll over and fake purrs just to put on a show. But when they stuck their fingers through the cage, anger took over with a growl, a hiss, and a vicious claw slash that sometimes drew blood. The caretakers in scrubs would ask what the hell was wrong with him. The would-be owners would let a stream of curses fly as they held their bloody fingers.

While patience would have to be a virtue for every potential pet owner, knowing they could never show patience for a feral warrior like MAD Cat sent him scurrying into the corner of his cage tucking his head. Another opportunity at life squandered forever. Another crying spell with heavy breathing in between teardrops. MAD Cat had never breathed this heavily before. He could slash and claw like a jungle beast, but only after arriving at the shelter did he huff and wheeze after every confrontation. Was he gaining weight? Was the dried kibble in his pink bowl giving him digestive problems? The food was slightly better than what Dr. Claw used to feed him, but why the heavy breathing?

Every day in this rowdy shelter was the same. Slash, hiss, growl, receive dirty looks, get traumatized by the swear words, rinse, lather, repeat. MAD Cat had completely lost track of how long he’d been in this lonely cage of his own making. Even with all of that time passing by, the memories of Dr. Claw’s abuse remained fresh and painful. He rolled around on the carpeted floor trying to feel comfortable every night.

His bumpy spine wasn’t the problem. The lumps on his noggin didn’t help matters, but it was what was inside the noggin that kept him awake most nights and kept his eyes black and red the entire time. More nightmares. More punches. More threats. More of Dr. Claw’s throaty voice yelling and screaming at him in a way that no master should treat an animal. He’d wake up every morning even more tired than before. And yet, he kept his guard up around any human or animal that walked by his cage. His claws were unsheathed and the scent of blood invaded his nostrils.

And then his eyes burned with scalding tears when he saw other animals being freed from their cages and held tenderly by their new owners. Cats rubbed their heads against children’s arms. Dogs licked their parents’ faces and wouldn’t stop. Dogs and cats collectively rolled over in happiness that their special day had finally come. MAD Cat’s day would never come. He didn’t even bother trying to look cute anymore. No more rolling over or faking purrs. Just sitting in the corner with a clenched jaw, bloody claws, and burning eyes. He almost entertained the idea of going back into Dr. Claw’s arms, but then remembered Inspector Gadget raiding the hideout and putting him here in the first place. MAD Cat crossed his paws and seethed with jealousy.

More days went by and more animals not named MAD Cat were being adopted left and right. More hugs, kisses, purrs, and pets, none of which were for the only cat left in the shelter after the days had turned to weeks. No new influx of animals, only caretakers in scrubs celebrating with champagne that they had, “Cleared the shelters.” MAD Cat’s fuse shortened a little more…and he huffed and puffed a little louder.

And then…the day finally came. But it wasn’t an adopter who visited MAD Cat’s cage. It was a scrub-wearing caretaker with thick rimmed glasses, a skinny build, and a nametag that said Mitch. Mitch’s face was long before, but gained a few more inches as he gazed upon MAD Cat with sadness and regret. “I’m sorry, little guy. It’s time to be put down.”

MAD Cat’s eyes widened and he let out a violent hiss at those words. As soon as Mitch opened the cage just a little bit, MAD Cat flew out and slashed at his face, causing a gash to run down his cheek. The taste of freedom was better than any kibble this god-forsaken shelter served and MAD Cat took full advantage as he darted around the room. Other caretakers in scrubs tried to catch him, but he was too fast. One that was fortunate to grab his tail was met with a nasty bite on the wrist that caused a howl of pain.

He ran past more caretakers, bobbing and weaving through their legs and slashing at anybody who came within inches of recapturing him. And then, a guest opened the front door and MAD Cat bolted outside for fresh air. Breathing cool air never felt so good on his burning lungs. But when he did so, it was heavy and wheezy yet again. His legs ached, his stomach boiled, his lungs barely did their job in supplying him with oxygen. All MAD Cat wanted to do was lay in the street and finally get the sleep he desperately needed, even if a nightmare was waiting for him on the other side. Dr. Claw’s beatings didn’t sound so bad after all.

Just when he was ready to drift away, Mitch wrapped him in a towel and said in a gentle voice, “There you are, little guy! It’s okay. I won’t hurt you. We still love you.” Mitch petted MAD Cat behind the ears and the feline’s tears soaked his already battered face yet again. The scratches sent tingles throughout his scalp and the purring was real this time. “You poor thing. You’ve got a lump on your chest.”

Mitch was right. He touched two fingers to MAD Cat’s chest and sure enough, there it was blocking the feline’s breathing. It all made sense now. What didn’t make sense was why it took this long for MAD Cat to experience any kind of loving touch from the human race. As Mitch took him back inside, MAD Cat realized that this would be the only moment of gentleness he would take to the after life. He wanted to leap out of his caretaker’s arms and make another dash for freedom. But he was so tired. His eyes were closing. Pain disabled his limbs. And that damned lump on his chest…that was the final blow that couldn’t be delivered by Dr. Claw.

Mitch took him into the medical wing and laid him on a metal table, unwrapping the towel as a sign of trust. Every staff member MAD Claw had ungratefully bitten and slashed was standing around him not with masks of anger and blood, but with sympathy and sadness. They all reached over and scratched him behind the ears and on his bumpy back. Even though MAD Cat was purring like a lawnmower this time, he still couldn’t shake the nonstop tears.

As part of this procedure, Mitch pulled out his smart phone and played a sorrowful song for MAD Cat to take with him to the afterlife. Some singer named Ben serenaded MAD Cat with lines about being “The Dark of You” while a piano and thunder accompanied these words. Even the caretakers couldn’t help but tear up and wipe their faces with either their fingers or a nearby Kleenex.

Mitch petted MAD Cat on the head and said, “Don’t worry, little guy. It’ll all be over soon. After this is over, you’ll get to go to a magical place where you don’t have to worry about that mean Dr. Claw ever again. You can be happy again. But you have to hold still for me. Okay?” He kissed MAD Cat on the nose and the feline relaxed into a puddle on the table.

One of the caretakers handed Mitch a needle while others gently cradled the fur ball. There was no last hurrah for MAD Cat. No dash for freedom. No bloody battle. Then again, he didn’t want a last hurrah. He didn’t want to repeat the violence of his former master. He did it only because that was all he knew. Happiness had been so foreign to MAD Cat that it would take a needle poke in his arm to help him realize it. And then the caretakers petted him. And then his eyes closed. They didn’t burn this time. There were no tears. There was only peace and quiet. Blackness clouded his vision as the Broken singer named Ben sang him into the afterlife.

MAD Cat’s blackened vision was brightened by a glowing gold light. When he slowly opened his eyes, they didn’t burn anymore. They didn’t leak salty fluids. His breathing wasn’t heavy anymore. His legs and torso didn’t burn with hellish pain. The lumps on his head were flattened. His bumpy spine felt comfy and warm as he laid in a field of grass. This was what it meant to be…happy.

MAD Cat hopped to his feet and did victory laps around the grass field, the sun warming his fur coat and the colorful bridge in front of him guiding him to even more heavenly pastures. The further he crossed that colorful bridge, the more pep he had in his step. Fuzzy friends of all sorts were waiting for MAD Cat, each of them with purrs louder than a machinegun and doggy smiles that kept the scenery bright. MAD Cat didn’t feel like scratching and biting them. Instead when he crossed the bridge, he wrestled with them on the grassy knoll. Any bites and scratches he unleashed were playful and loving, not malicious. He wouldn’t tire out for a long time, but when he did and the moon and stars replaced the sun, he found himself in the fuzziest cuddle puddle and he didn’t want to move.

Dr. Claw would never find him here. Inspector Gadget wouldn’t start any more fights in his presence. No cage could limit his happiness. MAD Cat finally knew what it meant to be wild and free. Maybe in his next lifetime, he could take a permanent vacation from organized crime and snuggle in his new master’s lap. But for now, all he wanted to do was relax, love, and be loved. Was that too much to ask? His new furry friends disagreed. Maybe MAD Cat could take some of them with him when his time to be reborn came along. That was what the world needed right now: more animal babies, less Dr. Claws.

Lap Pillow: A Fantasy Story

My head cradled on her velveteen lap
Her fingers in my hair, heavenly nap
Stuck in zombie mode forever and a day
I lay in silence, but to this goddess I pray

Vampire fangs and gentle fingernails
Elven hair and flesh so milky pale
Faerie figure and the wings of an angel
Eye-to-eye contact for this fair female

She tells me everything I need to know
That it’s okay if I want to take things slow
It’s okay if I’m sad every once and a while
There will be other days for my artistic style

I believe everything she tells me and more
I believe in her kisses and what they stand for
Imagination is a powerful thing, after all
When you’re stuck behind plain white walls

I know she’s not real when I’m wide awake
I know there’s poison running through the lake
I know the sunshine is covered in smoke
I know my feelings were all just a joke

I know it’s my duty to keep her alive
Pages to preserve an imaginary wife
What good are the pages if nobody reads?
What good are the images if nobody sees?

I’m invisible in the eyes of everyone else
I could never grace their vast bookshelves
I don’t have the ability to save myself
Loneliness is mine and I wear it well