Marigold DiAngelo, Because You Can't Have "Emilio & Marigold" Without Her

 

Luigi DiAngelo, Marigold's Grandfather from "Emilio & Marigold"

 

Giuseppe DiVito, Antonia's Assistant Cook from "Emilio & Marigold"

 

Chef Nash, Giant Antagonist from "Emilio & Marigold"

 

Antonia DiAngelo, Grumpy Grandma from "Emilio & Marigold"

 

Old school Garrison's Library fans will remember me submitting "Emilio & Marigold" to Hollow Hills and getting it published in "Raining Cats & Dogs" in 2020. Hollow Hills have since closed their doors for good. Now Emilio & Marigold will be part of an anthology of fantasy novelettes called Lysergic Fairytales, which I'll do myself.

Tastes Like Chicken

(As a parody of “Back From the Dead” by Skillet.)

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

Hot and crispy in the deep fryer

‘Cause you all try to wolf me down

A big belly for the hungry buyer

Putting on a hundred more pounds

The extra carbs bulking up your thighs

A diabetes pen just to stay alive

The Colonel comes out at night

He’s gonna cook me

He’s gonna eat me

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

Light it up, light it up, fry the chicken

Feel the rush, feel the rush of your insulin

Here’s your food, here’s your coke, here’s your fries

‘Cause I’m bok, bok, bok from the dead tonight

To the floor, to the floor, have a heart attack

Flying high is your pulse while you’re on your back

Full of fluff like a bird that ate rice

‘Cause I’m bok, bok, bok from the dead tonight

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

Eat the skin, it’s the best part

Take a six or seven hour nap

Unleash the beast, a typhoon fart

Now your bed is full of piss and crap

The extra carbs bulking up your thighs

A diabetes pen just to stay alive

The Colonel comes out at night

He’s gonna cook me

He’s gonna eat me

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

Light it up, light it up, fry the chicken

Feel the rush, feel the rush of your insulin

Here’s your food, here’s your coke, here’s your fries

‘Cause I’m bok, bok, bok from the dead tonight

To the floor, to the floor, have a heart attack

Flying high is your pulse while you’re on your back

Full of fluff like a bird that ate rice

‘Cause I’m bok, bok, bok from the dead tonight

Deep fried, homicide, a beached whale in the tide

Mashed potatoes on the side

Feeling full, feeling wide

The Colonel comes out at night

He’s gonna cook me

He’s gonna eat me

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok

Light it up, light it up, fry the chicken

Feel the rush, feel the rush of your insulin

Here’s your food, here’s your coke, here’s your fries

‘Cause I’m bok, bok, bok from the dead tonight

To the floor, to the floor, have a heart attack

Flying high is your pulse while you’re on your back

Full of fluff like a bird that ate rice

‘Cause I’m bok, bok, bok from the dead tonight

Dead tonight!

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok from the dead tonight!

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok dead tonight!

B-B-B-B-B-Bok-Bok-Bok from the dead tonight!