Get Me Out of Here

I drink my nectarine juice with no BPAs

The plane’s exhaust fumes shit on the EPA

Babies are crying and cracking my skull

Drunken lunatic tries to give the latch a pull

Horny ass couples suck on faces and tits

Flight attendants’ short fuses are blown to bits

The Air Marshal fell asleep on the job

Get me out of here, I’m ready to sob

I’ll swan dive to the streets of London

Or to France for some Paris lovin’

Parachute to the beaches of Mexico

Pancake on the deserts of Texas, NO!

Anywhere is better than the airplane

Even hell starts to sound a little bit tame

The high winds will cut me to shreds

At least I’ll have my own graveyard bed

I’ll take matters into my own hands

If this plane doesn’t want to fucking land

Chuck the dipshits out of the airlock

Drag them by their greasy coach hair locks

One by one the angels fly to heaven

Or they splat at the seven-eleven

Or they’re floating on the whale road

Silence has become their only code

Oh, my word, I’ve become a flight risk

Pain in the neck like a broken cervical disk

TSA might have to pat my ass down

I’ll leave a present, something warm and brown

They say I might cause another nine-eleven

I can’t even fly a seven-forty-seven

But if it helps them sleep at night

Keep my prison cell locked up tight

Blade Master

 Butchered genitals, agony in general

Slash those cocks like a samurai sentinel

They call you Blade Master, I call you torturer

Target little children, never be a warrior

You say it’s just a snip as you steal the tip

But it feels like fire, but it feels like a rip

Do it all in the name of stopping masturbation

Do it all in the name of god’s favorite creations

But if I could hide behind a mystical deity

I could impale you with a spear against the ceiling

I could shove a chainsaw right up your ass

Give you a torture test that you’ll never pass

I could blame it all on who I pray to at night

I could call it freedom or my inalienable right

Doesn’t feel good when I’m the one with the blade

Chopping off your schlong, no more babies to be made

In case you want make a point about abortion

Don’t even try, because we know it’s extortion

A clump of cells ain’t got shit on a living child

Stop dicing dicks and adding to your growing pile

Blade Master, Blade Master, rest in little pieces

Know you can’t do fuck-all about sexual releases

Got no resume to take with you to heaven

Take the elevator down to the land of bad intentions

Tell the demons about the parents’ medical decision

Give them a lecture on what you call circumcisions

Age Against the Machine

“Warning: this episode of The Crow Show has been rated TV-14-L. It contains strong language that may be unsuitable for younger audiences. The opinions expressed in this episode are solely those of the host and his guests and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Mystery Rider Productions or their affiliates. Viewer discretion is advised.”

The words and TV rating on the screen blew away in a fog of dust while an animated cowboy with a skeleton mask rode into view on a horse. The animal bucked up in the air and let out a powerful shriek while the cowboy screamed, “Yee-haw!” The words “Mystery Rider Productions Presents…” appeared below the now frozen logo after a bolt of lightning ripped through the screen. The logo also blew away in a cloud of dust in favor of the words, “Today’s Episode: Age Against the Machine”.

The black screen faded in to reveal a clapping audience while the camera circularly panned toward the main desk. On one side of the desk sat a grumpily frowning gentleman in a suit and tie while occupying the other side was a pleasant-faced middle-aged lady in a sun dress and hat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, here’s the star of The Crow Show: Marcus Crow!” shouted the background announcer, prompting the clapping audience to rise to their feet and cheer even louder than before. A dapperly-dressed black male appeared onstage smiling and waving at his adoring crowd while smoothly making his way toward the desk. Mr. Crow even bowed to his audience like they were gods as the cheering slowly died down.

“Hello, everyone! Welcome to the Crow Show! Today’s episode is probably going to be the most controversial one we’ve had in a long time. I’ve hired extra security to come out if necessary. The topic of course is the so-called Brat Ban sweeping the nation. Children deemed too noisy or disobedient are being ejected from public places along with their parents. Some people agree with this policy while others believe it’s unfair and ageist towards these small children. My guests today represent both sides of the Brat Ban debate.

To my left, she is a stay at home mom of two sons and she’s also a parenting blogger who claims to be on the wrong end of the Brat Ban, give it up for Ms. Leslie Cain!” The audience cheered and clapped as Marcus stole a kiss on the back of Leslie’s hand. He continued, “To my right, he is a retired restaurant manager who has enforced the Brat Ban multiple times in his career, give it up for Mr. David Charles!” The audience’s cheers were purely for the sake of being respectful and had nothing to do with their love of Mr. Charles.

“Okay everyone, let’s get started. Now before I…”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” interrupted David. “I want to clear the air on something before we begin. Mr. Crow, you said earlier that people are suggesting the Brat Ban is ageist, but I’m here to tell you it’s not. Ageism would suggest that I’m prejudiced. I didn’t prejudge those children. I judged them based on things they all universally do.”

With her arms folded and a death stare on her face, Leslie asked, “And what do all children universally do, Mr. Charles? Do they get hungry? Do they get impatient? Do they…you know…act like children? You can’t hold little babies to the same standards as adults. It is unfair, David.”

Marcus extended his arms in a quasi-barrier between his two guests and said, “Okay guys, let’s have a little bit of civility here. We’re trying to get to the bottom of…”

“Bottom of what, Marcus? Your Nielsen ratings?” belted David, which was followed by an “ooo” from the audience. The host straightened his tie and remained passive while David pointed his finger at him and said, “Don’t think for a minute that I don’t know about how badly this show is doing. You knew full well me and this crazy bitch would never get along, so why don’t you…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” interrupted Leslie, holding her hands out defensively. “What the hell’s your problem? I didn’t come here to be humiliated by an ageist creep!” The audience came back to life with a round of applause. “I came here to have a civilized debate! Maybe if you’d actually open your eyes every now and then, you wouldn’t have to throw those children out of your restaurant!”

Marcus tried once again in vain to restore order, but David blasted right through his verbiage with, “You’re right! I don’t have to worry about throwing kids out, because I don’t have a restaurant anymore! I sold it to my oldest son so that I wouldn’t have to…”

An even louder “Oh!” emanated from the audience while Leslie cut off her foe. “You have a son? So you actually have kids and you’re out here making these ridiculous claims? The irony’s killing me more than your greasy ass food probably would have!”

The audience continued to voice their “ooos” and “ahs” as David and Leslie traded barbs back and forth. David said, “First of all, you fucking moron, unlike the bitchy parents who had to get thrown out, I raised my kids the right way! If they did half the shit that these banned kids did, I’d beat their asses with a belt!”

The banter between Leslie and David escalated when the two guests stood up and came nose-to-nose with each other. Marcus had given up hope completely and sat at the table with his shaking head in his hands. The beefy security guards in black T-shirts stormed onto the stage to separate David and Leslie, but the two wouldn’t stop turning the studio into a cacophonic hellhole with their screeches and screams. The audience didn’t do much to ease Marcus’s aching head with their own noisy chants.

The stressed out host finally put a stop to the madness when he shot up from his seat, extended his arms in another pseudo-barricade, and shouted, “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” The audience, guests, and security team calmed down long enough to allow the host’s words wash over them like a tidal wave of rage. Marcus straightened his collar and shouted, “This is not the Jerry Springer Show! I will not have fighting on my program! This is a respectable show and I demand that everyone here treat it as such!”

“I don’t know, Marcus,” mocked David. “The Jerry Springer Show’s pulling better ratings than the Blow Show right now. Maybe you can get some more viewers if that Leslie chick takes her clothes off!”

Leslie Cain bolted towards David Charles like she was shot out of a cannon and rained down fists and elbows upon the child-hating guest. Not even the fierceness of the security team could contain the motherly fireball. She just kept climbing over them and throwing more haymakers, to which David inadequately covered his head and dropped to the floor.

Marcus jumped up on the table and dove onto the mass of humanity brawling it out on the stage, while the audience mockingly chanted, “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” During the scuffle, Marcus Crow suffered a deep scratch on his arm and bled buckets all over the stage. The redness in his arm was only matched by the redness in his vision. He hungered for violence. He hungered for retribution. The sinister urge ate a hole in his stomach. In his blind rage, he threw a punch at what he thought was the source of the scratch.

But then the audience gasped in horror when it was Leslie who took one on the jaw and flopped over unconscious. The bruises were on Marcus’s knuckles. He stopped giving a shit about his bloody arm and started hypnotically at his purple fist. In that moment, everybody was quiet, the security guards slowly backed away, and time itself stood as still as a statue for Marcus Crow.

The frozen host barely noticed David Charles’s hand on his shoulder when the guest mocked, “Well, well, well, I guess you’ve got your ratings after all. Isn’t this what you wanted? A steady income? Lots of fame? Well, you’re famous now, buddy. Come on, say it with me: Jerry! Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!”

“I…I…” Marcus wiped a singular tear away from his eyes and softly said, “I’m not Jerry fucking Springer…”

“You’re right, buddy,” said David as he patted Marcus on the shoulder. Making reference to Marcus’s black skin, he said, “You’re the host of the Jerome Springer Show! Enjoy your fame!” David gently shook the still petrified Marcus and danced off the set whistling a merry tune.

Marcus slowly turned his head to face the camera and stuttered, “We…we’ll be right back after…th…these messages.” The camera still rolled long enough to catch Marcus shaking as he pointed at Leslie’s unconscious body and telling his security detail to take her to the medical wing. The sullen-faced bouncers heaved Leslie on their shoulders and carried her away like it was a funeral procession.

Marcus gingerly made his way to the desk and couldn’t bring himself to face the hushed audience, so he held his head in his hands yet again. He lifted his head only a little bit and noticed the camera still hadn’t gone to commercials. “What are you waiting for?!” he roared. “Turn that fucking thing off and take a commercial break, damn it!” Except instead of a five-minute word from the sponsors, Marcus was certain he would have a permanent vacation from television life. He was right: he wasn’t Jerry Springer. At least Jerry Springer would still have a show.

The Legomancer

“When we find that bitch, she doesn’t get off the shock table,” Dr. Diana Gunn reminded her two orderlies. “Shit, I don’t care if I get the gas chamber; I’m killing that loony toon. We’re going to find her tonight. Not after breakfast, not after Wheel of Fortune, we’re going to find her NOW!”

“She always had a thing for Legos,” said RJ Maddox as he shined a flashlight throughout the parking lot of Toys R Us. The orderly towered over his boss by a shit load of inches, but his menacing scowl commanded fear more often than his brutish muscles.

“She likes to call herself the Legomancer, whatever the hell that is,” said Jimmy Lord as he filled his syringe with a viscous red fluid. Despite his hefty frame, he could easily keep up with his boss and his coworker. All of this walking and not one sign of huffing and puffing.

“Liz McKinnon better goddamn jolly well be in there or I’m having both of your nuts on a silver platter,” belted Dr. Gunn. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. I just want to get her ass back to the hospital and sleep easy tonight. That bitch will be lucky if she sleeps anywhere but a fucking cemetery tonight.”

Diana pulled her taser gun out of her lab coat and flashed some electricity to illuminate the psychotic expression on her face. Her pulsating bloodshot eyes and botched lipstick job would have anybody kneeling on the floor begging for mercy. RJ cracked his knuckles on both hands, every pop sounding like a machinegun bursting during a time of war. Jimmy grinned devilishly as he squirted a small sample of his needle fluid in the air. It was kill or be killed for these mental hospital employees and they were bringing a scorched earth into that darkened Toys R Us.

“Well, how do you like that?” hissed Diana. “She picked the goddamn locks. She always was a crafty little shit. I’ll bet that’s how she got out of her restraints. Not to worry: we’re going to fuck her up so badly she doesn’t even make it to the hospital tonight. That bitch is DOA!”

The scorched earth attitude of the doctor and her orderlies cooled off into a nervous freeze when they marched into the store to see what it had become. “What the fuck?” asked Jimmy Lord as RJ shined the club-sized flashlight around the store. Empty Lego boxes piled high in every corner. Lego sets built as instructed, but with oddly colored bricks. Pink and blue dinosaurs, green and red pirate ships, mismatched minifigures, and orange birds all decorated this playful palace.

“Don’t piss your pants just yet, boys,” warned Diana as she flashed some more electricity. “We’ve dealt with loonies like this before. This shit ain’t new to us.” She contradicted her own statements with a prolonged, “Oh my god!” once she and her boys made it to the middle of the store. Glowing brightly with red and orange plastic tubes, a life size merry-go-round with Lego horses and medieval knights twirled in circles while playing creepy organ music in the background.

“Woo-hoo! Yeah! This is the life!” yapped Liz McKinnon as she rode around on her own creation while waving her hands in the air. She remained in the shadows of the carrousel and then caused her assailants to nearly piss themselves when one of the light tubes revealed her Lego minifigure body in life-size form. The brick legs, the tube arms, the claw-like hands, and the smiling yellow face with wavy brown hair: she had it all.

“Don’t just stand there, guys! Let’s get her!” snapped Diana. Her three person team bum rushed the carrousel like a family of rhinos in a quaking stampede. Liz giggled at them and rode away on her horse towards the back of the store. By the time Diana, RJ, and Jimmy leapt onto the carrousel, the Lego pieces came crashing down on top of them, leaving them buried in plastic rubble. The studs and corners nicked their human victims to where the triple threat looked like they were mauled by street cats.

While Dr. Gunn and Jimmy wallowed in their wounds, RJ Maddox burst out of the pile with his muscled arms in the air and an ursine roar. He kicked his way through the shattered pieces and started picking up Lego sets left and right to smash them into even more pieces. He lifted spaceships in the air and threw them to the ground as hard as he could while screaming, “This is fucking bullshit! I’m going to kill that little bitch!”

During the tall black orderly’s rampage, a pirate ship flew by and crashed against his watermelon skull, opening a gash on the side of his head. He growled in pain and held his wound while glaring at the source of the pain: Liz McKinnon and her ability to levitate Lego sets in the air with her glowing blue hands.

“You people said I was crazy,” lectured Liz while sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Everyone told me that I was too old to play with Legos, that I had responsibilities, that I could never be a kid again. And now here they are sending a three-way sex circle at me in the form of you jack-offs!”

Dr. Diana Gunn shoved the Lego pieces off of herself and pulled Jimmy Lord to his feet before picking up her dropped taser gun and pointing it accusingly at Liz. “You think you’re the only one who misses her childhood?” Diana snapped. “That’s what life is all about, sweetheart! Everybody has to grow up at some point! Everybody has to venture out into the real world! It’s a part of the natural order! But you don’t want to be a normal member of society, so what do you do? You endanger your husband and children with your reckless behavior!”

“Look at you, Dr. Gunn,” mocked Liz. “Trying to debate with a so-called crazy person. Are you sure you’re not itching for a straightjacket yourself? Hell, maybe I can give you some of that shock treatment you gave me for, I don’t know, twenty fucking years!” She levitated one of her spaceships in the air and used its laser cannons to zap Diana’s taser, which sent an electrical storm of agony throughout her convulsing body before she crumpled to the floor.

While Jimmy tended to his boss’s wounds, RJ bolted towards Liz and the two of them gave chase throughout the store. Liz even did some back flips, summersaults, and made some “Hoo-hoo!” noises during her escape. RJ shrieked, “You better pray to god that I don’t catch up to you, you little hooker!” Liz kept up her tilt-a-whirl acrobatics and caused RJ’s blood to boil even further.

Their chase led the two of them through the various isles and into the back of the store, where Mr. Maddox stood in awe of the gigantic Lego castle that Liz crafted for herself. She blew him a kiss before storming past the gates and disappearing behind the shadows. This time RJ cracked his neck on both sides and stomped into the castle after her. He managed to tuck and roll out of the way of dragon statues breathing fire at him as well as knife traps trigged from the ceiling above.

“Is that all you got?!” RJ mocked with his hands spread out in a Jesus Christ pose. “This is what you left your family for?! I got you cornered, you little skank! It won’t be long before I punch the shit out of you! Hell, your husband and kids don’t even miss you anyways! I bet they’ll dance all over your grave once I put your ass six feet under!”

As RJ trekked through the hallways of the castle, he could hear little children crying their eyes out at his remarks. “No…no, this is ridiculous.” He kicked down one of the doors and found Liz sitting at a dinner table with two tiny Lego minifigures in her arms as well as a life-sized Lego man sitting across from her. RJ rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things and indeed they were as real as the Christmas tree illuminating their features.

“How could you say those things about my family, RJ?” asked Liz with a sour frown. “They’ve been here the whole time. This is where I belong, not in an insane asylum. And guess what, Mr. Maddox? This family is only going to get bigger…and bigger…and bigger…and bigger…”

From underneath the table and underneath Liz’s belly, more Lego mini-figures emerged to repeat her “bigger and bigger” sentiments. These Lego babies grinned at RJ with razor-sharp teeth while some of them held plastic swords and guns. Even Mr. McKinnon had his own gigantic silver sword that he swung around in the air with the lightness of a feather.

“You people are fucked up! You hear me?! You’re all fucked up!” screamed RJ as he ran out of the castle with his arms flailing in the air like a lunatic. His childish screams turned to maniacal laughter while dragon statues, mini-figures, and Creator dinosaurs roared monstrously at him. The floor swirled underneath him while various light tubes flashed and nearly caused him to have a psychotic seizure.

When RJ spotted Jimmy giving chest compressions to Diana, the tall black orderly chuckled hysterically with his tongue hanging out to his chest while he yanked the hypodermic needle out of Jimmy’s belt. “What the fuck are you doing?!” Jimmy shouted. But it was too late. RJ jammed the needle into his jugular and injected himself full of psychotic drugs. The swirling floor constantly changed colors. The flashing lights exploded like fireworks. The dragons and dinosaurs laughed like serial killers as did the McKinnon family and their many “children”. RJ’s brain popped like popcorn as he crumpled to a relaxed heap on the floor, his tongue dissolving into a red pool of filth. He could finally close his eyes and forget that this all happened.

Hours passed since the time RJ closed his eyes. With the heaviness in his eyelids, the aching in his head, and the soreness in his ribcage, it felt like days, maybe even months went by. He couldn’t move his arms because they were trapped in a straightjacket. He couldn’t sit up because he was bound to a table with leather straps. He could turn his head slightly, but waited until his eyes adjusted to the florescent lights to see just where the hell he was. Strapped to the adjacent tables were a raving and drooling Jimmy Lord and a teeth-gnashing Diana Gunn.

“At least I can get some rest,” whispered RJ as he relaxed in his laying position.

“It’s five o’clock, Mr. Maddox. Time for your treatment!” squeaked a familiar voice.

RJ said, “Oh, no!” and screamed his head off when he saw Liz McKinnon decked out in hospital scrubs holding shock pads in either hands. And yes, she was still in Lego mini-figure form. No matter how hard RJ struggled and yelped, he couldn’t avoid the two lightning bolts surging through either side of his head, sending him into yet another relaxed state of mind. His world went black, but all he dreamed about was more Lego madness. More goddamn dragons. More goddamn fanged babies. More goddamn Liz McKinnon and her freaky family. “Just kill me already!” he drooled.