Does Natalie Harp Look Cute Today? Or Any Day of the Week for That Matter? Nothing Cute About Fascism...

 

Who's the Real Hard Worker Here: the Actual Worker or the Extortionist?

 

Connor Stone, Evil CEO from "Be a Good Duck"

 

Mr. Hollywood from 2 Stupid Dogs

 

Selling Your Soul

VERSE 1

You sold your soul for some paper and metal

Digital transactions from lawsuits you settled

All you have left is a mediocre shell

And a special seat for you waiting in hell

Your spirit was once so colorful and bright

Before you fell off hard after turning right

Your road to heaven was paved with blood

Your so-called “truth bombs” were only duds

 

VERSE 2

When I give my soul to the left

I get a return on what I invest

The stories of underdogs just like myself

Told in the form of books on my shelf

Songs, art, movies, and more

Keep me from becoming a bootlicking whore

I grew and matured, I learned from the best

Who cares about results on a standardized test?

 

VERSE 3

Crushing dreams is what keeps you alive

Heaven forbid that creativity thrives

They should sell their souls for a pizza party

In a corporate office packed like sardines

Into cubicles more like trash compactors

That’s how you see them, they suppress detractors

Power corrupts, it’s an insatiable hunger

Feed the addiction while the artists suffer

 

VERSE 4

Why hire meat sacks when robots are cheaper?

Why use your brain when your pockets are deeper?

Why relate to another human being?

When outer beauty is all that you’re seeing?

Beauty fades and so does common sense

Those who enable you are not your friends

They carry knives in search of a back

Slip up just a little and they’re on the attack

They run away with your big money sack

Another soulless wonder, you’re left with jack

“Capitalism breeds innovation” they say

Yet it’s the same old shit every damn day

Lose Your Job

VERSE 1

“Get off the couch, I’m a beefy alpha male

You’re a little beta simp with the body of a whale

Stop shoving all those burgers right into your gut

Hit you with a restraining order from Pizza Hut”

Hey wait, do you work at Planet Fitness?

You think being macho’s gonna get you a mistress?

I think your Red Pills might really be steroids

I’m calling your boss, he’ll make you unemployed

 

DIALOGUE

“You gonna fuck with my greenbacks, Cancel Boy?”

You’re goddamn right I am

 

NEENER-NEENER CHORUS

You’re gonna lose your job!

You’re gonna lose your job!

I’m gonna get you fired!

I’m gonna get you fired!

You’re gonna lose your job!

You’re gonna lose your job!

I’m gonna get you fired!

I’m gonna get you fired!

 

VERSE 2

“Hey, little lady, let’s make a million babies

In my cabin in the woods, not the ghettos in the hood

I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to pound your punani

Don’t tell nobody, least of all your nanny”

Hey wait, do you teach history at the school?

Do you make your kids watch Prager U and Tim Pool?

Makes me wonder if your students are virgins

We’ll see what the principal thinks of your perversion

 

DIALOGUE

“But…but…what about my income?”

Fuck your income

 

NEENER-NEENER CHORUS

You’re gonna lose your job!

You’re gonna lose your job!

I’m gonna get you fired!

I’m gonna get you fired!

You’re gonna lose your job!

You’re gonna lose your job!

I’m gonna get you fired!

I’m gonna get you fired!

 

BRIDGE

I’m petty as fuck, because you had to suck

I don’t give a shit if you’ve got negative bucks

There’s a homeless dude who wants your job

But you brushed him off as a drunken slob

There’s an impoverished mom and her son

Who you love to tell that, “Trump still won!”

But no, let’s pretend you’re the real victim

And every minority’s a top-hat-wearing villain

 

DIALOGUE

“I got canceled! What’ll I do now?”

Pull yourself up by the bootstraps!

OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!

 

NEENER-NEENER CHORUS

You’re gonna lose your job!

You’re gonna lose your job!

I’m gonna get you fired!

I’m gonna get you fired!

You’re gonna lose your job!

You’re gonna lose your job!

I’m gonna get you fired!

I’m gonna get you fired!

Celebrate Yourself

VERSE 1

You don’t have to win at March Madness

To earn the right to alleviate your sadness

If all you did was survive another year

Then celebrate yourself with cake and beer

You call yourself weak, but I see the opposite

You’re a badass and a half and alive on top of it

Your value isn’t measured by a teacher’s grade

Or whether or not the boss man gets paid

CHORUS 1

Celebrate yourself, because you’ve got this

Shine your beacon of light, don’t ever stop it

On those days when you’re feeling like hell

Celebrate yourself until you’re healthy and well

VERSE 2

Getting out of bed is worth a thousand Oscars

And a thousand tape gags for the smack-talkers

And a thousand tacos on your dinner plate

And a thousand burgers is what you ate

Getting dressed in your absolute best

Is a feat in itself, you more than passed the test

In a world where everything drains you away

Be thankful that you lived yet another day

CHORUS 1

Celebrate yourself, because you’ve got this

Shine your beacon of light, don’t ever stop it

On those days when you’re feeling like hell

Celebrate yourself until you’re healthy and well

BRIDGE

When racing to the top of the corporate ladder

Leaves you so empty that effort doesn’t matter

Remember that glory is always overrated

When it’s a line of work you definitely hated

What’s so great about grinding and dying

When it leaves you defeated and crying?

A boss man could never really understand

The pain of it all when his head’s in the sand

CHORUS 2

Celebrate yourself, you’re worth more than this

Your strengths belong on a never-ending list

On those days when you’re doubting it all

Celebrate yourself, stand a hundred feet tall

Bubble Man

Just go for a swim in the waterfall

Dive off the hydroelectric dam wall

Undersea creatures waiting for you

Seductive sirens sing the sweetest tunes

Hammerhead sharks smell your blood

Now’s the time for underwear mud

Speedo lemonade for the jellyfish

Sting your ass for as long as they wish

Hold your breath like a YA hero

Watch your temperature drop to zero

Ain’t no lifeguards in my domain

Just a short existence and eternal pain

You came searching for the Bubble Man

Couldn’t come up with a better plan?

Dollar signs in your bloodshot eyes

Dreams of riches dissolved into lies

Bubble Man’s got a price on his head

Yet you’re the one who ends up dead

But not before he has some good fun

And even then, he’s still not done

Bubbles in your ass and in your lungs

Bubbles in your sack and in your eardrums

Pop them fuckers like birthday balloons

Scrape your guts off with a metal spoon

Mix your slime in a cauldron of chowder

Feed it to the minions with curry powder

Shit you out for the plankton and coral

They bring our climate back to normal

You weren’t the first to look for fortune

But you’re the latest post-birth abortion

Bubble Man may have a name so silly

But his weapons turn bitches to beef chili

Better luck next time, bounty hunter

Should’ve stayed in the arms of your mother

Secretary

MOVIE TITLE: Secretary

DIRECTOR: Steven Shainberg

YEAR: 2002

GENRE: Erotic Drama

RATING: R for language and sexual content

GRADE: Fail

When you notice that this movie is an erotic drama and you see that James Spader’s character’s last name is Grey, your mind probably jumps to a decade later and a certain novel from E.L. James that generated controversy. Maybe this movie was a prophecy of sorts. I don’t see why not. Spader’s character’s first name is Edward and yes, that name also sounds suspicious considering where E.L. James got her inspiration from. Edward Grey is a sharp-dressed attorney who hires secretaries for the sole purpose of inflicting BDSM punishments on them whenever they make even the smallest of mistakes. He’s a well-to-do employer who takes full advantage of the power he has over his employees. Sound familiar? Not exactly a healthy relationship that’s built to last.

The imbalanced power dynamic is most evident when Maggie Gyllenhaal’s character, Lee Holloway, becomes his latest charge. She starts the movie by exiting a mental hospital after struggling so long with self-harm. While the act of cutting and bandaging herself is a realistic behavior of someone with her mental illnesses, it plays a little too well into the BDSM relationship. Edward Grey spanks her repeatedly and she gets off on that. Let me repeat that back to you, not unlike a secretary typing a letter for a powerful attorney: a woman who finds psychological healing in harming herself finds sexual pleasure in being harmed, by someone with too much professional power, no less. I’ll let that sink in for a little while.

But perhaps I’m reading too much into this. After all, one of this movie’s thousands of subgenres is comedy. Comedy shouldn’t be taken too seriously, right? I’d agree with that sentiment if it wasn’t for the fact that I didn’t laugh one single time throughout this movie. I could have watched an orphanage burn to the ground and it would have made me laugh harder than this movie. Was I supposed to be impressed by the over-the-top portrayal of BDSM culture? Was Lee Holloway’s awkwardness supposed to make me chuckle? Maybe it’s just dry humor and belly laughs weren’t necessarily required. Maybe I’m too dumb to get the punch line. Whatever the case may be, I think the word “comedy” can be removed from this movie’s list of subgenres and it wouldn’t suffer much.

Up until the ending, this movie had loads of potential. It could have been a dark story about the power imbalance between boss and subordinate. It could have been a struggle with mental illness. Edward Grey’s small moments of guilt could have encompassed the entire story and I would have been fine with that. While I won’t spoil the ending, I will give away the fact that as the movie draws closer to it, the overall tone becomes happy and romantic. That’s right. Taking advantage of a vulnerable, mentally ill woman is seen as a healthy relationship dynamic. Maybe this movie was a prophecy after all. Thanks, but no thanks. This movie gets a failing grade because it reminds me too much of Fifty Shades of Grey. And for the record, the sex scenes are just as vanilla.

Boots and Tongues

VERSE 1

Lick all the ass cheeks, lick all the dicks

Lick all the pussies until you get sick

Drink all the juices, every last ounce

Then tell the world to compare bank accounts

PRE-CHORUS 1

You won’t rinse with mouthwash

Lick it! Lick it! Lick it all!

You won’t use dental floss

CHORUS 1

Boots and tongues! Collect your pay!

Boots and tongues! The corporate way!

Boots and tongues! It tastes okay!

Boots and tongues! Lick it!

VERSE 2

Lick all the bare feet and savor the treat

Toe jam and toenails are the new lunch meat

Lick all the nut sacks and kiss all the rings

Kiss all the asses and lick everything

PRE-CHORUS 2

You won’t brush with toothpaste

Lick it! Lick it! Lick it all!

Dental insurance is such a waste

CHORUS 2

Boots and tongues! Collect your cash!

Boots and tongues! Marry into trash!

Boots and tongues! Hide your stash!

Boots and tongues! Lick it!

CHORUS 3

Boots and tongues! Collect your coin!

Boots and tongues! Stroke your groin!

Boots and tongues! The club to join!

Boots and tongues! Lick it!

Circus Seal

VERSE 1

Whether I’m eating dinner with my family

Or on the brink of schizophrenic insanity

Or taking a shit in a public bathroom stall

Or watching a movie that makes me bawl

You must have my attention here and now

It doesn’t matter when, doesn’t matter how

An autograph or a private performance

Neither, pal, now go fuck off into orbit

CHORUS

I’m not your circus seal

You don’t care how I feel

Private time is not yours to steal

I’m not your circus seal

VERSE 2

It’s not that I hate my own loyal fan base

It’s just that this is neither the time nor place

I need my moments of peace and quiet

If I turn you away, don’t start a city-wide riot

Don’t post my dirty laundry on the internet

My private and public lives do not intersect

Nothing personal, I just want to unwind

In a place where nobody will ever find

CHORUS

I’m not your circus seal

You don’t care how I feel

Private time is not yours to steal

I’m not your circus seal

VERSE 3

You buy my products, but you’re not my boss

If you despise me, it’s your own damn loss

You don’t own me like a hand puppet master

Threatening me will only make me walk faster

EXTENDED CHORUS

I’m not your circus seal

You don’t care how I feel

Private time is not yours to steal

I’m not your circus seal

I’m not your favorite bitch

You don’t make me rich

I don’t owe you shit

I’m not your favorite bitch

Rx

“I am so frickin’ bored. Nothing to do today. I guess I’ll sit around and medicate,” sang Nathan Toney as his heavy body sprawled across the living room couch. Getting off that couch was a feat of strength akin to power-lifting a small Japanese car. His eyes were glazed over like a frosted donut. The multi-colored afghan blanket did little to cover his flabby torso.

The coffee table in front him was covered in pornographic magazines and cigarette ashes. The center of this table represented his only two choices in this world: a steak knife to end his misery or a bottle of Floydicon to numb him out. Nathan gazed at the scars on his wrists with a single tear in his eye. He wanted to go through with it. He wanted any excuse he could to exit this world forever and free himself of the unnecessary pain. But the bottle of magic pills was right there in front of him.

“Eh, what the hell…I’m too lazy for this shit anyways…” said Nathan flatly as he opened the bottle and popped one of the large white tablets. Another five hour nap was on the horizon. What kind of weird ass dream would he have this time? Unicorns and rainbows? Teeth falling out? Being naked in school? But then again, who said anything about a dream?

Nathan’s eyes shot wide open and pulsated as he watched the rain outside come to a complete standstill. The drops of water just floated there and changed colors at random whether it was clear to green, green to purple, or purple to blood red. “What the fuck is this?” asked Nathan in a hushed voice. The lights flickered in his tiny apartment before completely blacking out and leaving him in the shadows. “Oh no…not this shit again…not again!”

“Yes, Mr. Toney, we’re doing this again!” belted an ophidian voice. Nathan held his sausage fingers over his eyes and slowly uncovered them to reveal a woman in a business suit with a cobra’s head and scaly green skin. The chubby depression patient shivered and cowered further into the couch while pulling the afghan under his double chin. “It was a simple offer,” the snake woman said. “You could have had a promotion. You could have been the boss’s boss. All you had to do was one small little favor for me.” That favor was clear the minute the snake boss licked her fangs.

Nathan trembled and stammered as he struggled to say, “You knew I had a family. I can’t just do that to them. I can’t go sleeping around with whoever I want!”

“What family? This family?!” shouted a scorpion woman in a nightgown with two crying daughters clinging to her legs as tightly as they could. Nathan pulled the afghan over his whole head, but the scorpion’s tail ripped it away and poked him in the bare chest. “I knew I was right to divorce you, you son of a bitch! How could you ever consider taking that whore’s offer?!” She shed bloody tears and wiped them away with her pincer. “We didn’t need the money that badly! We needed a father and a husband!”

“Man, fuck you little bitches!” shouted Nathan as he tossed the blanket aside and shot up to his feet. “I gave you all nothing but hard work and this is how you repay me?! By taking it all away and making me live in this filthy piece of shit apartment?! You’re all poison to me! Fuck you bitches! Fuck you all!”

The two crying daughters morphed into wasps and pointed their sword-like stingers at Nathan’s face, but the disgraced father wouldn’t be deterred. “We didn’t do anything!” they said in synchronized demonic voices. “We wanted you to come home with us! We never wanted this divorce to happen! We miss you! Come home with us!”

Nathan’s raging face softened into solemnity when he hugged the two wasp children and said, “I can’t come back anytime I want. Your mom changed the locks. She has an order against me. I tried to fight her in court, but she wouldn’t let me win.” The wasps poked him in the gut with their stingers and sent their father sprawling on the couch screaming in pain. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled while clutching his green bloody wound.

“So this is it, huh?” said an elderly toad woman with red slime dripping from her amphibian skin and gnashed flies between her teeth. “You’re just going to give up on your family like this? As your mother, I can’t allow that, Nathan. I raised you to be a real man and a real man takes care of his family! A real man fights for what he believes in! But if you don’t believe in your own wife and children anymore…” With one flick of her poison tongue, she captured the wasp children and devoured them while drooling a river of thick goop.

“No!” shouted Nathan. “You can’t do that! You can’t take them away from me!”

The scorpion wife, cobra boss, and toad mother spoke in unified demon voices, “We can do whatever we want to you, Nathan. You gave us permission when you walked out on us. You gave us permission when you gave up the fight. All you had to do was see a psychiatrist about your…little problem! But you couldn’t do it, could you? You didn’t have the guts to do it then and you won’t do it now!”

“Little problem…” whispered Nathan with growing fury in his voice. “Little problem?!” He pointed to his brain and roared, “You call this a little problem?! Newsflash: I’ve been living with this shit for nearly all of my fucking life and all you three bitches did was make it worse! You all did this to me! I don’t owe any responsibilities to you pieces of shit anymore!”

“Do something about it!” said the three creatures. With every repetition of that phrase, their monstrous auras grew brighter and their voices grew louder. Nathan covered his ears and crouched down to the floor, yelling for them to shut up, but they never did. They tormented him further and began to form a circle around him. They danced and sang their demonic tune while Nathan’s eyeballs were glued to the steak knife on the coffee table.

“I know what I have to do…you want me to do something about it…you’re damn right I will!” Nathan scrambled for the knife and held the jagged blade to his throat while the horrifying ladies taunted and teased him some more. He made one small incision and a tiny droplet of blood hit the carpeted floor. He made another cut and smeared even more blood on the floor.

The blade made a full on slash and the monsters around Nathan were dropping dead one by one. Their bones snapped and their own slimy blood mixed with his. Nathan struggled for oxygen, but all that would come up in his throat was his own life juices. His stomach grew queasy at the thought of his death coming so soon and he barfed up what little oxygen he had left. All that was left of Nathan Toney and his demons was a mixture of biological sludge that made chemical plant explosions seem mundane. The goopy red rain fell once more and washed them all away in the storm.

A lightning bolt flashed across the sky and awakened Nathan Toney from his drug-induced haze. He pulled his face out of the toilet and coughed profusely until he could breathe fresh oxygen once again. He gazed around with bloodshot eyes and saw that his apartment remained in the same messy state as when he first took the Floydicon. He placed his fingers to his throat and saw that a nasty scar had developed there, but it wasn’t bleeding heavily like it was in his high.

After a while of shaking heavily, Nathan steadied his body long enough to pull himself to his feet using the rim of the toilet. He limped his way out to the living room and spotted the bottle of Floydicon resting conveniently next to the steak knife. With an expression of boiling fury etched on his jowly face, Nathan marched over to the coffee table, grabbed the medication, and stomped back to the bathroom to flush the pills down the toilet.

“What kind of dip-shit takes these kinds of pills anyways?” Nathan vengefully whispered. “What kind of doctor prescribes this shit to begin with?!” He eyeballed the label on the bottle and saw that the medication was prescribed to him by Tri-Circle Enterprises, the company he used to work for. “Figures…it fucking figures!”

He discarded the bottle in the trash and marched back over to the coffee table to grab the steak knife. Instead of holding it to his throat or his wrists, he held it like a samurai warrior and gnashed his teeth together like a rabies-infected wolf. “I’m taking my family back one way or another,” Nathan vowed. “If I have to kill every last one of those motherfuckers…so be it! No more lawyers! No more judges! No more courtroom bullshit! Ass-kicking is what’s called for!”

“But first…I need to get out of these god-awful clothes…” He spent the last few days in pajama pants and a 3XL white T-shirt. The clothes had seen pizza stains, cigarette ashes, and liquor spills of the worst kind. They smelled as though he’d been shit on by a horse in the middle of a burning junkyard. He changed into fresh jeans and a red polo shirt with black combat boots on his feet. His boss always told him to dress for the job he wanted. With a steak knife tucked firmly in his back pocket, his new job was corporate assassin. He could have done this the legal way, but it didn’t take a tripped out Floydicon user to know the law was one big conspiracy against the underdogs anyways.

Conforming to Society

***CONFORMING TO SOCIETY***

I can’t remember who exactly said it, but I read a Wikipedia article where the lead singer of a punk band talked about the necessity of conforming to society in order to fulfill responsibilities. In other words, doing what you’re told will give you worth in the eyes of your boss even if you don’t agree with your orders.

However, there’s a huge difference between doing what you’re told to earn a paycheck and changing your mindset to contour to the boss’s beliefs. When teenagers work at McDonald’s, they’re not doing it because they’re zealots of fast food. They’re doing it because they want money for an X-Box or a new car. Conformity takes place in the mind, not in the body. No sane human being would ever bomb a Burger King or spray poisonous gas in a Wendy’s in the righteous name of McDonald’s.

Money isn’t everything, but it is something. We all have to have it in some form or another, whether we’re keeping a roof over our heads or finding entertainment. Sometimes you have to do things for money that you never thought possible. But does that mean you’re a puppet for whoever you work for? No. Does it mean you have to give up on your original dreams? No.

If your boss does something morally corrupt, you could just as easily look for another job behind his back. If you need time to work on your dreams, wait until you get home. Even if you work seven days a week, you can use at least a modicum of your free time to work on other projects. Yes, you’ll be tired at the end of the day, but if you set aside time for yourself, it can be achieved.

What you do in your private life and what you believe in your own mind are nobody else’s business but your own. Your mind is a personal haven where you can say or do whatever you want. You can have violent fantasies, sexual fantasies, adventures, and other trains of thought without invasion. Yes, people will try to invade your private sanctuary with insults and abuse, which is why it’s important to maintain your individuality and suppress thoughts of conforming to your haters. Being an individual is a skill, but as long as you remember who you are and why you do what you do, it can be done.

I’m currently reading another one of Andy Peloquin’s books and it’s called “Child of the Night Guild”. The opening scenes depict a cruel drill instructor named Master Velvet trying to force small children to obey him at all times by starving them, beating them, and screaming at them. While the children do bend to his will, I’ll bet you anything that somewhere in their minds they’re thinking about kicking this guy in the nuts. He controls them by changing their birth names to numbers, but other than lost memories, I still wonder why these kids don’t just gang up on Master Velvet and beat him into powder.

There’s no rule that says you have to like what you do for a living or like who’s in charge. There’s also no rule that says you can’t use your employment as a stepping stone for bigger and better things. You can work at a convenience store, pay your bills, and set aside some money to publish that next great novel of yours. It doesn’t happen right away and your soul will feel crushed from time to time, but it can be done. Everyone tells you how hard it is to be an artist, but nobody tells you how hard it is NOT to be an artist. Think of all your favorite authors, actors, and musicians and what they had to go through to get to where they are today. And yet, they managed to achieve their dreams.

Putting on a grocery store apron doesn’t make you a zealot any more than earning a paycheck makes you a conformist. Do what you need to do to survive and then be yourself when you come back to your private life. If you like wearing rock band T-shirts, put one on when you get home. If you like watching Real Time with Bill Maher even though your boss likes watching The O’Reilly Factor, watch Bill Maher’s show when you get home.

If you need help remembering who you are, surround yourself with friends and family who believe in you. You might have to search far and wide to find these people, but it’s worth it. It might even be as easy as doing an internet search. Someone out there loves you for who you are. Not everybody wants you to change into something you’re not. No, you don’t have to conform to society in order to survive. Society isn’t always going to be your friend. Only people who love and respect you can be part of your own society. Do what makes you happy and be with people who will make you happy. You deserve the best, always.

***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 11***

I somehow have the feeling that there should be a transition chapter between 10 and 11. But as it is, when chapter 10 ends with a bonfire argument, chapter 11 begins with a heavy metal concert at another venue. Daniel Mercer instantly forms a new band with members of I Am Death and Juice and they miraculously know how to play Demon Axe songs. Monk robes, scary masks, and crazy stage names aside, the new band won’t be called Demon Axe. It’ll be a combination of those three bands: Demon Death Juice. Again, these things happen instantaneously even though concerts sometimes take weeks or even months to book in advance, not to mention hours of practice the bands have to go through to get their songs right. Do we have time for rational solutions to the transition problem? Could months pass without another terrorist attack from Roger Zee? I need to sit on this one for a while before I write the damn thing.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Uneven tits aside, I’d say that Raven Triscloud turned out well. Now it’s time to draw a villain since a hero was featured in the last picture. That’s how I’m going to pump out Dark Fantasy Warriors: hero, villain, hero, villain, hero, villain. This time, we’ve got Carla Madder, the razor-toothed, overweight madam from the Poison Tongue Tales 2 story “Shield Me”. This woman could easily be the most frightening character I have and that’s saying something considering most of my villains are psychotic necrophiles who rape and murder without mercy.

***MIXED-MARTIAL ARTS QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“Love me or hate me, just debate me.”

-Ronda Rousey-

***POST-SCRIPT***

I just found out that Ronda Rousey lost to Amanda Nunes at UFC 207 via TKO in under a minute. That makes me sad. It also makes me wonder where she’ll go from here now that she lost two title matches in a row. The last time she lost a UFC fight was when she dropped the Women’s Bantamweight Championship against Holly Holm. She considered suicide after that match. After her first stare down with Nunes, she needed to be consoled. If I could hug Ronda right now, I would.

Jacob Slash

NAME: Jacob Slash
AGE: 35
OCCUPATION: Rat Samurai Barbarian
CANON: Final Fantasy Hardcore 2


Yes, you read his occupation right: he is a humanoid rat who happens to be a samurai and a barbarian at the same time. He wears barbarian boots and barbarian armor underneath his silk samurai robe. He’s not just good with a katana; he’s a goddamn murderer. He’s so good with a katana that he carries two of them, just like a barbarian would if we were talking about Diablo II. Jacob Slash has all the right tools it takes to be a villainous warrior. He’s dual classed, he’s a hideous rodent who smells like sewage and cheese, and his last name is Slash. The only other person I know who’s named Slash is the former guitarist for Guns N’ Roses and as far as I know, he doesn’t rip the shit out of people with two big ass katana blades.

Jacob Slash was the first in what would turn out to be a whole series of anthropomorphic animal warriors who would have played the role of major bosses in Final Fantasy Hardcore 2. Unfortunately, that videogame idea never got off the ground, let alone got completed. So now what I’m left with is a whole army of animal warriors who are eager to ground and pound their way to victory. They’ll find a home somewhere, I swear!

The formula for making these intimidating bosses was simple. For the first name, I took a normal everyday name and reversed the spelling of it. For the last name, I combined two badass buzzwords that might have been used in traditional fantasy genre works. The class and species of each warrior had to be conducive to each other in some way, a good example being a hippopotamus barbarian or a wasp wizard, though mixing and matching classes and races was a random endeavour in and of itself. It’s the reason why we have half-orc paladins and pixie barbarians.

In the case of Jacob Slash, his name used to be Ekaj Hoarslash. But in today’s world, that wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense. Ekaj sounds nice, but I want something with a little more substance, so I choose Jacob. And who in the hell would want to be known for slashing whores? That’s not a nice thing to do to our sex workers. So now this rat barbarian samurai (a mixture that still tickles me to this day) will be known as Jacob Slash, which is simple, yet no less intimidating than before.

What kind of role would a hideous creature like Jacob Slash play in a novel or short story? It’s funny I should ask myself that, because over the past few weeks, I’ve been getting back into the groove of writing a novel called Watch You Burn, which is about a schizophrenic college student named Mario Bryan who is recruited by an anime superhero named Gryace to help save the world from a disgustingly strong ogre named Sage. About that novel, I’m almost finished with the first draft. After I run the first draft through Marie Krepps’ wringer, then I could seriously contemplate writing a sequel with Jacob Slash as the lead villain.

Jacob Slash and Sage Thunderbreath have a lot in common. They both have barbaric mentalities. They’re both vomit-worthy in terms of their physical appearances. They’re unequaled when it comes to hand-to-hand and magical combat. The only difference between them, however, would have to be that Jacob is motivated by a deeper agenda than Sage. In the final stages of Watch You Burn, it’s revealed that Sage Thunderbreath does the things he does because he’s jealous of the universe’s beautiful people. Jacob want something a little less shallow: power. Fear. Recognition. Respect. Fame. Fortune. Jacob believes he can get it all through ultra-violence. He also has a serious god complex going on, which makes him even more dangerous and entitled.

Will Mario Bryan be able to withstand the punishment Sage Thunderbreath brings to every battle? That’s been debatable since the start of the story. What’s even less debatable than that is asking the same question, but with Jacob Slash as the object of the sentence. The answer is no fucking way. But that’s assuming I use Jacob in the sequel of Watch You Burn or if there even is a sequel to begin with. Surely, there are other ways in which Jacob can splatter blood across the land. He is, after all, a rat barbarian samurai, which I may not be able to say with a straight face, but is no less dangerous than a single class warrior.

　

***TELEVISION DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

DOCTOR: I am done playing these games with you! I am finished!
GANGSTER: You want out? Hell, we all do.

-Complications-