Kicking Me While I'm Down

VERSE 1

Cheap shot, money shot, what’s the difference?

They both chip away at someone’s innocence

Brick by brick, my foundation crumbles down

The rubble on my carcass weighs a million pounds

Even when life itself has passed me the fuck by

I keep asking myself again what’s the reason why?

Why are these steel toed boots kicking my ribs?

Why is negativity all these fuckers have to give?

CHORUS 1

You’re kicking me while I’m down!

In the head! In the balls!

You’re kicking me while I’m down!

It’s funny as shit when I slip and fall!

VERSE 2

One final pulse beats through my broken body

Yet none of you clowns have found a new hobby

Kicking me around like you own the damn town

And here I thought this ended after the final round

CHORUS 2

You’re kicking me while I’m down!

In the teeth! In the ass!

You’re kicking me while I’m down!

You’ve got no soul! You’ve got no class!

BRIDGE

Maybe if I pull myself up by the bootstraps

Walk a hundred more miles to fill the gaps

Stretch myself a little thinner every day

You’d kick me when I’m down anyway

CHORUS 3

You’re kicking me while I’m down!

In the jaw! In the gut!

You’re kicking me while I’m down!

Giving me bruises! Opening cuts!

You’re kicking me while I’m down!

In the shins! In the ribs!

You’re kicking me while I’m down!

If I’m going to hell, I’m taking you with!

Undertaker

Necromancy is my native tongue

For those whose songs remain unsung

For those buried beneath the ground

For those haunted by traumatic sounds

Every corpse has its own little story

Every death has its own hidden glory

Some died fighting for what they believe

Or took to the grave their ability to deceive

Some died never having lived at all

No surprise that one day they’d fall

Detachment is my only suit of armor

Against crying for those I must honor

Just another body to grow the grass

Just another ghost waiting to pass

To the next world if there ever was one

Covered in roses or saluted with guns

An undertaker’s job is never really over

An undertaker’s fear is silent and covert

Rest in peace is what we learn to say

Go through the motions for another day

This is life imitating the finest art

This is a life being torn clean apart

Just as dead as the bodies I bury

Just as heavy as the burden I carry

Maybe it’s time for a brand new career

There’s nothing left for me to do here

Follow my dreams into older ages

Write my stories on the dusty pages

How many times will I get this chance

Before I give into the devil’s dance?

Brandi

Adele Faulk stared at the sparkling engagement ring on her finger with a cheerful smile on her already lovely face. The diamond itself radiated beauty like a heavenly star, but it was the man who gave her that ring who was worth showing off the most. She gripped the steering wheel of her parked car and took deep breaths to calm her nerves of excitement. She couldn’t wait to tell her younger brother Dustin the news, but was afraid that she’d come off too strong. “Poor Dustin,” she said to herself in a peaceful whisper.

The chocolate-haired lady in the sparkling silver cocktail dress exited the vehicle and clicked her high heels against Dustin’s sidewalk. His home was a lot smaller than she had remembered. Had he been falling on tough times? Adele’s lipstick-covered mouth formed a frown out of fear that she would be rubbing her success in Dustin’s face. She contemplated getting back in the car and driving home to her fiancé. No! She had to tell him without resorting to the Face Book copout.

Adele knocked on Dustin’s door and he said, “Come in!” Upon treading through the threshold, Adele’s concerned frown morphed into wide-eyed shock when she saw her pot-bellied brother sitting on the couch next to a blond sex puppet in lingerie. “What’s up, big sis?” said Dustin before taking a sip of beer and changing the channel on the TV with his remote.

“Um…” shrugged Adele. “Not a whole lot compared to you. You do know that’s a sex doll, right?”

“Brandi doesn’t like to be called that,” snapped Dustin as he stroked the doll’s hair.

Hands on her hips, Adele smirked, shook her head, and said, “Seriously, Dustin? Her name’s Brandi? You’ve actually given this sex toy a name?” The brother scratched his nuts and burped. “Jesus, Dustin…I, uh…I have no words. Not one fucking word.”

“You don’t have to say anything at all, Adele,” said Dustin right as he kissed “Brandi” on the cheek. “I already know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’ve gone off the deep end and I need to be locked up in a fucking rubber room. I get it. Truth be told, I’ve never been happier in my life. Look at her, Adele. She doesn’t judge. She doesn’t care that I gained a little weight. She doesn’t care that my hair’s a little thin. She likes me for who I am and that’s good enough for me.”

“You know what else doesn’t judge you for your looks or your income?” asked Adele. “That floor lamp over there. Maybe you should start a relationship with that and stick it up your ass during those romantic moments.” Dustin protested with several silent shut up’s, but Adele continued her rant with, “Maybe you should start a relationship with the TV and keep it on porn channels all the time. Maybe you should mount your coffee table and fondle its legs. Two legs are sexy enough, but four? Holy shit, buddy!”

Dustin’s murmuring retorts transformed into one monstrous, “Shut up!” that silenced his big sister’s mockery. “Typical big sister bullshit, Adele. You’ve been doing this shit to me ever since we were kids! I never had a date to the prom! I never had a date at all except with my right hand! You’re actually surprised by this shit?! If you’re going to call me a loser, just get it over with already and don’t make me wait!”

“You’re not a loser, Dustin,” said Adele with a soft inflection. “It’s just that…I know you’re upset about what happened to Dana. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself either if my fiancé committed su…I mean…boyfriend…I mean…”

“Fiance, huh?” asked Dustin with a sarcastic grin. He blew out some air and said, “I’ll bet you anything that’s what you came here tell me. Not that you’re checking on your baby brother, but to show off that stupid fucking ring on your finger. Good for you, Adele. I could have just as easily found out on Face Book, but you had to come here and rub it in. Well, I’ll be sure to extend the same courtesy when I eventually put a ring on Brandi’s finger.”

“She’s not a real woman!” shouted Adele. She marched over to her younger brother and ripped the TV remote out of his hand before clicking off the tube. “We need to have a serious conversation about this…thing on the couch! It’s not healthy, Dustin! What if someone else sees you with…Brandi and makes fun of you for it? Maybe you’ll bring her along to one of your office Christmas parties! That’ll be a big hit! Goddamn, I want to rip that doll’s head off right fucking now!”

Dustin shot up from his seat and barked, “Oh yeah? And what’s the alternative to this, huh? What am I supposed to do after I abandon my girlfriend? Go on some loser dating site and have shallow conversations with someone who doesn’t give a shit? Is that what finding love is all about? Hell, you know something about that! Why don’t you tell me what the fucking answer is!”

Tears streamed down Adele’s face and smudged her makeup and mascara. “Goddamn it, Dustin,” she sobbed as she wiped away her sorrowful liquids. “You need real love. You need a real woman. You’re better than this! You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known! And now you’re going to give up and parade this doll around as your girlfriend?”

Dustin shook his head and said, “I didn’t have the strength to save Dana and I don’t have the strength for a so-called real woman. If you can’t understand that, Adele, then I think you need to leave. Congratulations on your engagement, sis. I’m sorry I don’t care enough about it.” He plopped down on the couch and spooned with Brandi some more.

Adele’s weary eyes glared into Brandi’s lifeless features. The big sister clenched her fists so tightly that her manicured fingernails left indents in her palm. She even felt a trickle of blood and didn’t give two shits about it. “I hate this thing,” she whispered angrily. “I fucking hate you, Brandi! You’re ruining my brother’s life!” In one swift motion, she ripped the face off the doll while her brother shouted a prolonged, “No!”

Tears continued to melt Adele’s makeup-covered face into a modern art masterpiece when she saw what was underneath the doll. If she thought the doll was lifeless before, her last shreds of doubt were erased upon seeing a degenerated skull with shreds of skin and green gums. “Dustin,” she whimpered. “Why? This isn’t you. This isn’t my baby brother! You’re not a murderer!”

Dustin stood back up and assumed a coldhearted look on his face while staring down at his crouched sister. “You’re right, Adele. I’m not a murderer. You are. First you take Dana away from me and now you take Brandi. Who’s next on your hit list? Hmm? Maybe I’ll go to a strip joint and bring you some more victims, even though not one of those plastic women is good enough for me!”

“You’re crazy!” Adele sobbed. “You’re fucking crazy, Dustin!”

Dustin formed a savage smile, shook his head, and said, “Not nearly as crazy as the woman who ruined blowjob night just so she could show off her fucking engagement ring!” Adele’s tearful statements came out as unintelligible word salad while Dustin kneeled before his sister and said, “Now that I think about it, big sis…blowjob night is just beginning!”

Adele’s breathing grew frantic and heavy as she shouted, “I’m your sister, Dustin! That’s disgusting!”

“You’re the only woman left who’ll ever love me after this,” said Dustin while stroking Adele’s locks. “I’ll be Luke Skywalker…and you can be Princess Leia. Who knows? Maybe you can pawn that engagement ring and buy yourself a nice shiny golden bikini!”

Dustin leaned in slowly to give his sister a kiss only to have her bite his nose and draw blood. His shrilling screams caused Adele to crab walk backwards in fear. For a moment she laid frozen on the ground while her brother used his Nickelback T-shirt to soak up the blood. “You fucking bitch!” he angrily whispered. “I deserve love. I deserve the best! Who do you think you are taking it away from me, you ignorant cow?!”

Adele kicked off her high heels, shot up from the floor, and screamed heavily as she bolted towards the door, Dustin in hot pursuit. In her amazement at Brandi, she forgot to close the door when she entered the house, which meant she was free to swing it open during this chase. Once she dashed outside to the cool night air, Dustin tried to grab her by the dress, but ripped off the backside and exposed her purple panties instead.

“Help! Help!” Adele shouted through her tears. Her breathing hastened and intensified as she sped closer to the driver’s seat of her car. She felt as though she was going to have a heart attack once she opened the door and took a seat. She hit the auto-lock on her doors just in time for Dustin to pound on her windows demanding she open them. Adele fiddled with the key while trying to stick it in the ignition. The more the key scraped against the hole, the louder Dustin’s pounds became.

Adele let out a shriek of horror when Dustin punched out her passenger window and grabbed her shoulder with his bloody arm. The tearful screams and her exploding heart gave her enough of an adrenaline boost to stick the key in the ignition and start the car. Dustin’s grip strengthened upon hearing the engine roar and even more so when Adele slammed her foot on the gas and sped down the street. Her brother flapped and floated in the air while maintaining a bruising grip around Adele’s neck. His fingernails dug into her flesh and all she could do was scream and drive recklessly some more.

The blood in Adele’s neck made Dustin’s grip slippery enough to scrape his nails across her flesh and fly across the street into a telephone pole. The sister’s rapid breathing and crying slowed down little by little when she slammed on the brakes and peered into the rearview mirror to see Dustin clutching his cracked ribs. With his body mangled almost as badly as the corpse on his couch, Dustin was no threat to anybody.

“I’m sorry, Dustin,” Adele whispered while trying to steady her intense breathing. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.” Knowing the threat was diminished, Adele rested her head on the steering wheel and allowed her flooding tears to soak the carpet beneath her. She didn’t even tend to the dripping blood from her neck.

Her eyes dripped at a much more violent rate knowing she lost her brother long before he cracked his ribs against a wooden pole. What would she tell her fiancé? What would she tell mom and dad? Nothing yet, because the word salad poured from her mouth as she tried fruitlessly to calm her nerves. She could spend forever this way if she wanted to. It wasn’t a bad idea at the time.

It's a Natural Function

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Paula Bryan, a loving grandmother, a friend of the community, and a mentor to the most vulnerable members of our society. She passed away this past Saturday night due to natural causes at the age of ninety-one years young. She is survived by her children and grandchildren and remembered by all of the lives she has touched. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, earth to earth, and…”

PTHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The sunshine-filled graveyard was tainted with the odor of a digested Philly cheese steak sandwich eaten by the heaviest member of this funeral procession, Chris Antonio. Despite the suppressed laughter and wicked stares of the black-clad funeral attendees, he threw his hands up defensively and said, “That’ll send some tremors through here.”

The red robed priest Garth Roy snapped his bible shut, took the glasses off of his bald head, and snarled at Chris, “Do you mind? We’re trying to have a funeral and here you are just blasting away! Control yourself!”

“Sorry,” said Chris as he ashamedly tucked his chin with the other attendees.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” said Reverend Roy. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, earth to earth, and…”

Another nuclear blast was exhumed from Chris’s butt cheeks and the family and friends of Mrs. Bryan coughed, hacked, wheezed, and held their noses at the stench. Chris’s cheeks were redder than the roses on the casket.

“What do you have to say for yourself, you little twit?!” fired Garth.

“Sorry again. You should probably get some new roses for the casket, they’re going to die within seconds,” joked Chris, which earned him some not-so-suppressed laughter from the younger members of the service.

“Enough!” shouted Garth while throwing down his bible. His authoritative shriek was enough to kill the laughter and command his due attention. “We’re trying to bury this poor woman and your fat ass is ruining the entire ceremony! If you’re that gassy, there are restrooms right over there!” he said while pointing to said destination with his arthritis-pained finger.

“Ruining?” said Chris with his hands on the wide hips of his black slacks and gray suit jacket. “Ruining, my ass! Actually, that’s probably not the right verbiage I want to use.” The laughter continued much to the teeth-gritting chagrin of Reverend Garth Roy. “But seriously, is that really all you want from us? To cry all day long? Let’s be honest, Reverend: you can spell funeral without F-U-N.”

“Fun?! You think this is fun?! A woman just died last Saturday and all you can think about is your disgusting colon?!” bellowed Garth with his arms flailing. “The video arcade is down the street from here! If you want to have fun and act like a damned child, go over there! We’re here to celebrate Paula Bryan’s life and we’re not going to have you screw everything up!”

“But see, that’s the thing, Reverend Roy: we are celebrating Mrs. Bryan’s life by having a good laugh at this,” said Chris. “You want to know how she became such a well-known mentor to people like me? By putting smiles on our faces, that’s how. She didn’t take life too seriously. She enjoyed a good fart joke every now and then. Speaking of which…” With that, Chris Antonio lifted his right leg and let out another thunderstorm of flatulence, which earned an equal amount of laughter and jeers. He mockingly waved his hand over his nose and said, “Phew! This place smells like we’re standing over a dead body, am I right? Hell, we might as well move this ceremony to the bus station bathroom. It’d smell better, that’s for sure.”

The laughter continued except with Reverend Garth Roy, who picked his bible back up off the ground and slowly crept towards Chris before whacking him over the head with it. The overweight gas machine rubbed the top of his skull and said, “Ow, what did you do that for?!”

“If Paula Bryan were alive today, she would strangle you with her husband’s belt, you sick bastard!” whispered Garth with raspy rage. “She’s looking down at all of us from heaven with disgust!” The laughter died more sorrowfully than Paula Bryan. Everybody’s tear-stained eyes were locked onto their church leader as he gave his hellfire oratory. “She won’t be looking down on you anymore, Chris, because one of these days, you’re going to burn in the ninth circle of hell for turning this procession into a circus! You’re a disgrace to the lord’s name and you’re a disappointment to the memory of Paula Bryan! Get out! Take your feces-stained underwear somewhere else! Go on! Move it!”

Chris’s pudgy face became even more saggy with his dour frown. He tucked his chin and turned around to try and walk away. He stopped after only a few feet and held his chest in pain. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Neither do any of us, Mr. Antonio! We’re at a funeral!” shouted Garth. “Be on your way! Take your farty-party over to the local middle school!” The attendees chuckled at the term “farty-party” before being silenced yet again with, “I’m serious!” With all soaked eyes on him, Garth commanded, “If anybody else thinks this whole thing is a joke, feel free to take a walk with Mr. Antonio! You can stand at his side, but try not to stand behind him!” The attendees chuckled to where Garth threw his bible on the ground yet again and screamed through gritted teeth.

In the midst of this “farty-party”, Chris dropped down to both knees and breathed heavily while clutching his chest. “Oh god, oh dear god,” he said while attendees were gathered around trying to help him to his feet.

“You see what you’ve done, Chris?!” belted Garth. “The good lord is striking you down and it’s too late for atonement! How do those hellfire flames feel, Chris?! I said, how do they feel?!”

With the attendees’ arms locked around his elbows, Chris managed to make it to his feet, but not without spaghetti legs and a dazed psyche. “Oh no, not now. No, no, no! Please forgive me, Paula. I love you.” But instead of falling down on his face and meeting the devil, he let out another cloud of nauseating diesel fumes. The funeral goers laughed once again.

“Goddamn it!” shouted Garth as he jumped up and down stomping the grass.

“I think the good Reverend over there just used the lord’s name in vain,” said Chris with a hearty smile. “I don’t think he should be directing this funeral anymore. Do you guys feel the same way?”

While the friends and family of Mrs. Bryan cheered, Reverend Roy held his nose and mouth under his robe and coughed violently. In his wild attempt at sucking down fresh air, he knocked the casket over and Paula’s body rolled out onto the grass. The heavy laughter turned to gasping shock as everybody realized what Garth just did, albeit accidentally.

Holding his hands up defensively, Garth said, “I didn’t mean to. I’ll put her back inside, no problem.”

The onlookers, Chris included, watched in horror as Garth desperately tried to put pieces of Paula’s withered body back inside the casket. His face still scrunched up a the vile odor of Chris’s farts. Now the scent of an old lady’s corpse invaded his nostrils like a new form of nasal rape. He coughed and wheezed once more, but this time fell into the six foot hole in which Paula was supposed to be buried in.

Tears welled up in Garth’s eyes, even more so than when the funeral began and this was all about death and depression. Chris and the onlookers gazed down at him while the pudgy protégé said, “Asses to asses, dust to dust, may you rest in feces, I mean, pieces, I mean peace, damn it, peace!”

“I give up! I fucking give up!” yelled Garth as he punched and kicked the dirt beneath him.

Above the grave, Chris and the others laughed and hugged each other. This time, their smiles remained permanent. If there really was such thing as smiling down from heaven, Paula Bryan was doing it with her most beautiful expression. From beyond the grave, she brought happiness and love to those who needed it the most. “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” That was her favorite Dr. Seuss quote and for good reason.

Fishing For Sharks

VERSE 1

You spit cobra venom all over the page

You breathe fire on those who dare rage

You shoot bullets at those who attack

Only to find a jagged blade in your back

CHORUS

You threw the lure and fished for sharks

Whose bites are far worse than their barks

They smell the blood, it’s what they love

Your lifeless corpse floats to the surface above

VERSE 2

Are you running with giants or fishing for sharks?

Are you creating drama or a dramatic story arc?

Are you setting the world on fire or burning bridges?

Answer wrongly and you’ll sleep with the fishes

CHORUS

You threw the lure and fished for sharks

Whose bites are far worse than their barks

They smell the blood, it’s what they love

Your lifeless corpse floats to the surface above

VERSE 3

Negativity will never lead to life longevity

Your world will soon crash down inevitably

Don’t bring a knife to a gun-slinging fight

Don’t bring hatred to an already hard life

CHORUS

You threw the lure and fished for sharks

Whose bites are far worse than their barks

They smell the blood, it’s what they love

Your lifeless corpse floats to the surface above

FINAL VERSE

When you sling shit, you’re only soiling yourself

When you throw a fit, you’re damaging your health

Change or die, there’s nothing in between them

Grow up, move on, or get ready to be condemned

You lose one fight and it’s just like Armageddon

You lose one debate and it’s far from heaven

Get your ass up and dust off your fucking clothes

Be the very last person that this world clearly loathes

Harvest Moon

The orange and red harvest moon was the only thing bright about the medieval night in the city of Tristan. Everything else seemed dark, damp, and gloomy. The Red Warrior Funeral Home was no different. Yes, the bodies were preserved in neat, comfortable bedding within their casket homes. It was the living who suffered the brunt of the foul stenches, ripped curtains, and occasional mice crawling across the floor. Even the tarantulas weaving webs in the corners of this place weren’t immune to the pungent atmosphere as evidenced by their corpses being littered all over the stone floors and walls.

The only person who could take in all of this gloominess and come out of it feeling somewhat neutral was Kendra Callahan, assassin for hire. With dark robes and a hood surrounding her and only an oil lantern guiding her way, her combat boots clanked off the stone floors of the funeral home. If somebody was down here defiling the corpses, she would be the first one to notice and that person would get the shit kicked out of him or her.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she thought to herself as she made her rounds. Guarding this funeral home would have been a cakewalk and she could have had the rest of the evening to herself. How would she have filled that time? Reading? Sharpening her blades? Staying in shape? No. This evening wouldn’t afford her the luxury of a comfortable home, because someone was down here.

The sight squeak of a coffin lid put Kendra Callahan in defensive mode. She got in a fighting stance and drew her steel poison-tipped claws. This sudden racket wasn’t caused by a mere mouse or spider. The intruder was as careful as any stealth artist should be. Kendra took a few more steps and shone her lamp in the general vicinity of the noise.

As soon as the light danced in the right places, the quick and light sounds of footsteps could be heard skittering across the floor. Someone was definitely there and Kendra was determined to give this intruder a taste of her poison. She reached into her belt and chucked a shuriken in where she believed the burglar was standing.

The sounds of pierced flesh and dripping blood put a smile on Kendra’s face. She jogged over with her lamp to see just what had happened, but it wasn’t what she expected at all. A flare of green light illuminated the entire funeral home. The source of such brilliant magic was a witchdoctor dressed in a demon mask and velvet red wizard robes. He gently pulled the shuriken out of his stomach and his wound healed over as if nothing happened.

“What the hell are you doing down here, Ambrose?” said Kendra sternly. The man she was referring to was Ambrose Volta, a delightfully eccentric wizard who didn’t mind delving into his darker side every once and a while.

“Do forgive my abrupt entrance, Miss Callahan, and I shall forgive the shuriken in my stomach. You know why I’m here,” said Ambrose.

“Actually, I don’t have a single fucking clue, but I can take a wild guess and say that you’re down here to get it on with your new undead girlfriend,” said Kendra with a smart-assed smile.

“I would never do such a thing and you know that to be true, my dear,” said Ambrose. “What is true, however, is that these preserved corpses concern me. Their souls are forever trapped in these caskets, a prison for the afterlife of sorts. No more will they suffer. After I work my magic, these souls will find a new and more comfortable place to rest: the Harvest Moon. It’s what religious folks refer to as heaven up there. But the Harvest Moon welcomes everyone and gives them a second chance at peace and beauty, not just those who conform to a certain ideal.”

A confused look formed on Kendra’s face when she said, “And I’m supposed to believe all of this, why? It’s almost like you’re asking me to conform to something I don’t trust myself. Well, there’s a reason why I’m wearing these claws and there’s a reason I’m patrolling this funeral home. Intruders are to be killed on sight. Well, Ambrose, you’re an intruder, so I guess I’ll have to kill you now.”

Kendra started the battle by bolting toward Ambrose and throwing her clawed fists in every direction he planned on going. One scrape from these weapons and even a powerful mage like Ambrose would have keeled over from the poison. And yet, he dodged every slash and every roundhouse kick that followed with so much ease that Kendra hit the wooden caskets instead and knocked a few corpses over.

Ambrose wagged his finger at his nemesis and said, “Naughty, naughty!” He then stretched out his fingers and shot a ball of black sludge in Kendra’s face. The assassin rolled around on her back trying to scream and peel through the tar. The mice and tarantulas were attracted to the scent of this goop and congregated around her face to nibble and chew her snow white flesh.

“Now, where was I before you so rudely interrupted me?” said Ambrose Volta as he turned his attention to one of the corpses that got knocked over. He knelt beside what looked like a young man in his 20’s and shot two bolts of purple lightning in his face.

By this time, Kendra Callahan peeled off the sticky sludge and crushed most of the mice and spiders that were eating her face. The end result was a visage full of nasty-looking battle scars, the same visage that wore an angry expression as the clawed warrior charged at Ambrose again.

She threw rapid-fire punches and kicks at the shaman while he was in the middle of casting his spells. This time there was no easy defense. Ambrose took every slash and every bone-crunching kick and rolled over on his back bloody and beaten. This felt too much like a hollow victory for Kendra. No way it could be over that easy.

She was right. The orange soul of the young man Ambrose was working on floated out of its host body and clutched Kendra around the neck. The soul screamed in a fiery voice, “You idiot! Some of us are trying to get to the Harvest Moon! Meanwhile, all you’re worried about is some shallow payment of gold and silver!”

The soul released its grip and dropped Kendra to the ground, where she hacked and wheezed as she held her throat and tried to suck in oxygen. The soul was laid to rest once more. But it didn’t go back into its own body. The flaming spirit was orally sucked in by the now sitting up Ambrose Volta. The vile wizard stood up and dusted himself off as if he didn’t just get his ass brutally beaten.

As soon as Kendra recovered most of her oxygen and gingerly stood back up herself, she saw Ambrose standing before her with his hands on his hips shaking his head. She freaked out when she said, “No! No! That’s impossible! Why won’t you die, damn it?!” She bum rushed the wizard again, this time with even faster kicks and punches. Her strikes would have been enough to kill most people instantly, but Ambrose concocted a whirlwind cocoon around himself and felt nothing.

Once the assassin tired herself out and stood hunched over, she saw that her adversary took off his demon mask and revealed himself to be a smiling old man with stringy white hair. At least that was one side of his face. The other side held the half-visage of a rotten black skeleton with a glowing orange eye. Even though she was a hardened warrior with virtually no emotions, Kendra Callahan knew it was time to be scared and showed it by shivering violently.

“Miss Callahan,” said Ambrose Volta in a syrupy voice. “I think the two of us have had enough, wouldn’t you agree?” The wizard held out his fingertips and telepathically threw Kendra against the wall, which conveniently enough had deer antlers mounted against it. The tough bones pierced through the clawed fighter and she bled out and died instantly, never once letting out a scream because her powerful lungs were punctured like balloons. The battle was over and all that was left for Kendra’s vision was a field of darkness.

Hours had passed in this dark plain. Not a single noise. Not a single sensation. And then out of nowhere, she heard gentle voices telling her to wake up from her dream. Kendra slowly opened her eyes and allowed them to adjust to the orange morning sky. She slowly stood up and found herself in a field of multi-colored autumn leaves. The voices that comforted her were those of the corpses in the funeral home, their bodies healed and their faces gently smiling.

“Where am I?” asked a weary Kendra Callahan.

A young girl grabbed her by the hand, which no longer had a claw, but a velvet red glove. The girl smiled brightly and gently said, “You’re on the Harvest Moon. Welcome to your new home!” And what a heavenly home it was.

Ottie-Doo

The Skull Hammer Cult walked the Earth in search of the ultimate paradise and somehow landed in the backwoods area of Paulson City. Their official church was an old schoolhouse from the 1800’s, a one-classroom compound with broken pieces of wood holding it together and stale red paint coming off in flakes. There used to be a beautiful golden bell at the top of the steeple, but it had since been replaced by the symbol of the Skull Hammer Cult, which was an iron skull minus a jaw with a sledgehammer going through its cranium.

Inside this official church, children ranging from little ones to teenagers were sitting in their desks praying and dancing around like creepy little puppets, waiting for their master to return. Randy Fender, the cult master in question, dredged through the front door carrying what appeared to be a dead cat. Its mouth was bleeding and one eye was hanging out of its socket. Instead of being frightened by this, the children’s eyes lit up like Christmas bulbs as they clapped their hands happily at their masters arrival.

Randy, dressed in a smelly blue mechanic’s jumpsuit and a black demon mask, approached the center of the schoolhouse and laid the dead cat on the altar, its rancid corpse making the ugly Skull Hammer symbol even worse to look at.

Mr. Fender looked among the children and said, “Do you see this? This, my brothers and sisters, is what we’ve been looking for this whole time. Not just a source of tonight’s delicious meal, but this wicked creature holds our key to salvation. This cat is imbued with magical powers, powers that once possessed can make us stronger than we’ve ever been. No mere mortal shall stand in our way to paradise. Wait no longer, children. Take the first bite!”

The hypnotized children waved and wiggled their fingers over the cat’s corpse, as if to anticipate how this magical feast will taste to their young palettes. And then the cat’s body began to glow in a mystical purple aura, which made the little ones even more excited than they already were.

They were forced to take a few steps backward, however, when the cat corpse came to life and stood on all four paws. After letting out a long-winded yawn and popping her eyeball back in its socket with her fuzzy paw, the kitty looked around the schoolhouse to see what all the hubbub was about.

“Yes! This is exactly the proof we needed!” shouted an exhilarated Randy. “I knew I picked the right one! I knew it the minute I laid eyes on this poor tortured pussycat!”

The cat gave a confused look and said, “What the hell are you talking about, you whack job? I’m not a poor tortured pussycat. I’m the kitty sage Ottie-Doo. Call me Ottie for short.”

“Wow!” said one of the children. “She can talk!”

Randy grabbed the kid by the back of the neck and sternly warned him, “Remember what I said when I first met you: don’t speak until spoken to, little one!”

“Put that boy down, you monster!” yelled Ottie before she waved her paw and threw a green lightning bolt at Randy Fender’s hand, the sharp pain causing him to yelp and let go.

“So, you’re not only a magical kitty who can talk, but when you do talk, you’re a total smart-ass! I don’t like your attitude, little kitten. These children know better than anybody what happens to little smarmy-mouthed wise-asses in my Skull Hammer Cult. Children? Show this precious feline what I’m talking about!”

“Wait!” shouted Ottie. “Do you children really want to listen to this man? Look at him! He’s less than human! I’m a dingy old cat myself, so that’s saying a lot! Seriously, what do you young ones see in this disgusting man?!”

No response from the children, only wild red eyes and drooling mouths. Randy said, “You were saying, little kitten?”

“Do what you wish to me, demon man, but no harm shall come to these children!” threatened Ottie-Doo.

The kids laughed in throaty, monstrous voices as they closed in on the kitty with their arms stretched out like zombies. The witch kitty floated in the air with pink stardust fluttering underneath her. The kids stared in awe as she flew around the schoolhouse showing off her magical powers. Her biggest trick yet was forming a ball of orange electrical and fiery energy in her paws and chucking it at Randy Fender’s demonic face.

If the cocky cult leader wasn’t wearing a mask, he would be showing off his creepy confidence as he grabbed a nearby child and used him as a human shield. The magical ball exploded the small child, but not into blood and guts. Instead the little boy turned into a pile of maggots, worms, and beetles. It was a sight that made Ottie-Doo watch on in shock and horror as she floated near the ceiling.

“You can’t save these children, witch cat,” said Randy. “They’ve been converted to my minions a long time ago. So many tearful parents are wondering right now if they’ll ever get their children back. Maybe they will someday. But then again, when your body is loaded with parasitic creatures, would any parent want you back in the first place?” The evil cult leader laughed his head off.

The louder and throatier Randy laughed, the angrier it made Ottie-Doo. Her fuzzy paws were curled into fists of fury and her old lady teeth were cracking underneath her jaws. A cyclone of blue lightning and wind encircled her as she prepared for her next magic spell. Randy was already one step ahead of her when he knelt down to peel back a floor board and pulled out a gigantic battleaxe, which was also glowing with blue energy.

“Just to show you how far gone these children are, Miss Ottie-Doo, let me show you just how much they’re willing to sacrifice to make me stronger!” With that said, Randy held out the glowing battleaxe and one by one the children dissolved into a puddle of worms. The worms crawled all around Randy and were gathering around the metal axe, the blade absorbing their spiritual essences. This horrific sight struck even more fear and doubt in the heart of Ottie-Doo as her magical energy was dwindling and she was sinking to the ground below.

She hung her elderly kitty head feeling like a failure to these poor children. Then again, if they were made of worms and maggots, maybe their childlike forms were merely a mind game. So many thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to wrap her head around what this Randy Fender asshole was doing.

She couldn’t take too long to think, however, as she dodged out of the way in the nick of time when the blade came crashing down. Big Randy swung that battleaxe like a berserker, shattering every piece of wood he hit into sawdust. Ottie bounced around and dodged every single shot. She even found herself running along the walls just to avoid getting slashed with this magical weapon.

“You’re gonna die, bitch! You’re gonna die badly!” screamed Randy when he took off his demon mask and revealed the face of a hideously scarred and tattooed psychopath. The sight of his hideous face made Ottie curl up into a ball of fear as her eyes leaked with salty tears. She didn’t feel like she could fight such a monster anymore. He was too big, too fast, and too monstrous. Ottie was just an elderly cat who literally slept like a corpse.

Randy charged over to a cornered Ottie with the blade held high. With one final swing, he was going to break this “annoying” cat into a million pieces. But just as the blade came crashing down, Ottie had one last hope for victory. Randy’s attacks were relying solely on reckless momentum. Therefore, Ottie used telekinesis to use his own momentum against him. Instead of cutting through the elderly witch kitty, the axe took a magical detour into Randy’s stomach.

The cult master never saw this coming behind his own rage. The spirits of dead children were flying out of his body and out of his axe while the ultra-evil Randy Fender melted into a puddle of maggots and worms himself. The parasites dissolved into little puddles of blood and the last of the children spirits flew away into the night sky. With just one small opening, Ottie-Doo ended this battle.

But at what price? Those kids were beyond help. Whatever Randy Fender did to them would put a strain on the parents forever. All Ottie could do was tuck her head and meow softly to herself. She won the battle, but lost the war.

Just when she was about to spend this evening in a crying slumber, she felt a gentle touch on top of her kitty head. Ottie looked up and saw one of the spirit children smiling a beautiful smile at her, just like all children should. In no uncertain terms, the child spirit had only one thing to say to her savior: “Thank you!”