Rainbow Ranch, Chapter 4

Loki the Skull’s jowls continued to flap in the icy wind as equally cold words poured from his mouth like hemlock into a glass of wine. He thanked Lucy and her crew for leading him to Ozzie’s cave. He rambled and ranted and raved about animals being too lazy to exact their own revenge against their abandoners. And then he seamlessly transitioned into a nonsensical allegory about icy bridges leading to hell. And he rambled some more until his verbiage became cacophonic word salad. The overuse of magic truly made King Harrison insane, which would explain his obsession with getting revenge for his animals.

 

Lucy would have shed sympathetic tears for the Kafkaesque descent if it wasn’t for the fact that Loki rocked her hammer back and forth like a hypnotic pocket watch. Watching this former king mentally drift away into outer space meant nothing in comparison to the deflated tennis ball that once brought Lucy joy. Her fangs didn’t have much in the way of sharpness, but they clamped down with the utmost tightness at this display of hubris. Lucy’s doggy hairs stood up and prickled against her metal armor. Her tail wagged uncomfortably fast. Her murder victim growls grew deeper with rage the longer this was allowed to go on. And then…

 

“GIVE! IT! BACK!” Lucy launched her tiny body despite protests from Callie and Ozzie. Surely, a lightning bolt or fire bomb was waiting for her at the end of the trajectory. It never came, just Loki ducking out of the way and keeping the hammer to himself. Lucy yipped and yapped as she bounced up and down in an attempt to grab her weapon. Loki always kept it out of reach, sometimes by only a tiny tap. The fact that he could have ended this anytime he wanted to and chose not to brought even more venom out of Lucy’s bitter barks.

 

After what must have been the seventh or eighth attempt to grab the hammer, Loki aimed his paw and finally launched a fire attack…but not against Lucy. A nearby record player that once made Ozzie’s eyes milky with nostalgia had instantly transformed into a pile of black dust, along with whatever piece of licorice pizza Callie attempted to play.

 

Lucy didn’t take time to register the deeper meaning of such destruction and continued to jump after her hammer, which was still hanging over her head like the tennis ball she once loved. She didn’t even pay much mind to Callie shouting, “Okay, that’s it!” and pulling out her golden dagger. Lucy didn’t care if neither of them stood a chance at beating this cackling, jabbering sorcerer. She just wanted her hammer back, the last symbol of what life was all about for her.

 

And then Callie stuck the knife where the sun never dared to shine. Not in Loki’s fuzzy butt, Lucy’s instead. She yipped in pain and jumped even higher than before, which gave her enough height to finally grab her hammer. Loki still held on and the two of them played tug-o’-war over it, all while the sorcerer shot a lightning ball into Callie’s chest and knocked her backwards, almost unconscious.

 

“That wasn’t very nice! GIVE IT BACK!” Lucy screamed, suddenly gaining more strength upon seeing her friend get zapped. It wasn’t enough strength to earn her a tug-o’-war victory as Loki pulled harder himself. The yanks from both sides disturbed their equilibrium and they nearly fell out of the cave together. Lucy would have rolled back down the mountain covered in snow if not for one small mistake on Loki’s part.

 

“Harrison!” said Ozzie in a husky old man voice. Loki’s mistake was awakening the memories in the old cat’s brain. He gazed at Loki with piercing eyes and trembling whiskers, energy forming in his paws at the risk of refrying his brain. “It ends with you!” Ozzie used whatever mana was left in his rotted brain to throw a tiny whirlwind at the tug-o-war scene. He then collapsed face first onto the cold icy ground.

 

Loki let out an arrogant, “Ha!”, as if that was the best the old man could do. But that little spark of wind gave Lucy momentum. Sure, Loki wouldn’t let go, but he didn’t have to. Lucy wasn’t pulling the hammer towards herself. She was pulling it to the side. The little gust along with Lucy’s heroic rage caused her to spin little by little, until she herself was a whirlwind of chaos. She spun Loki around and around while picking up steam, never once letting go of her weapon.

 

Lucy paid no mind to her own rotting brain, she kept spinning Loki around anyways. The sorcerer’s face grew bright green and his eyes watered. His jowls puffed up bigger and bigger and his stomach growled like the tough guy wolf he was trying to be. Spinning, spinning, and spinning until Loki’s fingers slipped further and further down the shaft of the hammer. One tiny slide later and Lucy was reunited with her precious hammer. She plopped backwards into the snow with her vision blurring in and out of focus and her tummy aching like she was about to lose her life in addition to her lunch.

 

Loki fared no better when it came to aching stomachs. His jowls continued to expand as he clutched his midsection and doubled over. He did everything in his power to keep it together. The salt water collecting in his eyes was a souvenir of his last ditch efforts. And then…”BLAAAAAAAAAAH!” Loki puked a bubbling stream of green and gray acid onto the snow.

 

Lucy couldn’t tell if the rising steam was from the vile stench or if spirits were magically floating out of the excess juices. Maybe it was both. She squinted her eyes as hard as she could to relieve them of rapidly freezing tears. She laid there trying to keep her own lunch under control, as every part of her body ached badly enough to want to vomit herself inside out. But the acidic spray never came. Her stomach calmed down long enough for her to drift off into darkness.

 

She didn’t spend too long in the black abyss. The wetness and comfort of a dog’s tongue kissed her furry flesh. If she was a kitty, she would purr at this loving sensation. She did however slowly open her red and puffy eyes to see Loki reviving her with gentle licks. Except this wasn’t the sorcerer she was fighting against this whole time. This was the original Loki, who stood on all fours and never once threw a magical spell. Instead he was just a sweet, tender dog who wanted Lucy to love him as much as he loved everybody, the way a dog should be.

 

“Loki-Pokey!” Lucy squealed before hugging him around the neck and getting a few puppy licks in herself. The labrador snuggled up beside the snow-bitten Lucy and snuggled with her for warmth. “Hey…is that?” She finally put two and two together: Loki threw up King Harrison’s ghost and was no longer possessed by the insane sorcerer. She could smell the chunks of lightning-fried flesh in the puddles of vomit. “It all makes sense now! Yay! We did it, Loki-Pokey! Ozzie and Callie are going to be so proud of us! Hey…wait a minute…”

 

She nipped up and rushed towards Ozzie’s cave, Loki trotting right behind her. Sure enough, Callie and Ozzie were right there face down on the floor, not one movement or sign of life between them. Lucy began to shiver with sadness. “No…no, no, no, no, no!” The two dogs rushed over to the cats’ prone bodies and began furiously licking them. Not even a dog’s loving tongue could revive the old coots. Lucy shook some more as she gazed to the ceiling and howled. Loki howled alongside her and the two of them became a chorus of sorrow at their fallen friends. They sacrificed their lives just so Lucy could have her stupid hammer. They gave so much of their energy to a toxic king that wouldn’t reciprocate.

 

“Ouch! My ears! Will you two stop your cotton-pickin’ yelling!” Callie blurted out. She snapped wide awake while Ozzie took his sweet time in coming around.

 

Lucy, having no sense of boundaries, hugged them both around the neck and shrieked, “You’re alive! You’re alive! Oh, I missed you two so much!” She and Loki continued to lick their feline faces. Callie folded her arms in defeat while Ozzie chuckled and petted Loki’s head. The gang was back together and Rainbow Ranch could finally heal. They could laugh, play, eat sausage, get pettings and love, all the things that animals had at the top of their wish lists. Revenge wasn’t just on the bottom, but it never even made the cut. That was until…

 

“Fools! You’ll never get rid of me that easily!” King Harrison may have been exorcised from Loki’s body, but his poisonous green ghost still hung in the air. He shouted a bunch of mindless gibberish. He summoned energy in his clawed hands. He scratched himself until black pudding oozed from within. It was then that it dawned on Lucy that she forgot her hammer outside. She, Loki, Ozzie, and Callie all snuggled against each other knowing exactly what was coming to them. They hoped their deaths would be swift and merciful. They gave all they could to this fight only for King Harrison’s ghost to hang around.

 

“I love you guys. I love you all…” mumbled Lucy as she squinted her eyes in defeat.

Rainbow Ranch, Chapter 1

In a world where something unexpected happened every day, Lucy the Hammer used her time off to chase her favorite tennis ball back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She missed doing this so much as a non-humanoid puppy that she ran after said ball with excited pitter-patters, galloping like the world’s smallest and peppiest horse. Her long Chiweenie tongue hung down in anticipation for finally getting her beloved toy in her mouth. But once she snapped her jaws, her fellow squad mates would throw it in the opposite direction. Even with whiny cries of, “Give it back, give it back!”, her much bigger humanoid dog companions got their chuckle-filled kicks out of playing keep-away.

And then the towering bulldog caught the tennis ball and waved it around out of Lucy’s reach. Even after jumping her highest, her feet dangling in the air, she could never snatch her coveted treasure. And then the much bigger dog reached down and rolled Lucy on her back, tickling her stomach and getting her to giggle like the little child she always wanted to be. Somewhere in this playful session, the bulldog shoved the tennis ball in Lucy’s mouth and then she began to relax on the stony ground. Her squad mates continued to horse-laugh, but these were jovial laughs rather than mean ones.

The longer Lucy the Hammer could live in the past and forget the Hammer part of her name, the happier she became as evidenced by her glowing grin and wagging butt. Playing with tennis balls, chewing pork sausages, getting belly rubs and ear scratches, and running across wheat fields unhindered by the burdens of humanhood. But as heavenly as these fantasies were for Lucy, it didn’t change the fact that she was laying on a cold stone ground this whole time. 

This place wasn’t her happy home. It was a hydroelectric powerplant in the shape of a pyramid. Water flowed through channels like a gentle creek and powered a spinning magic crystal, the essence of energy in a region already full of magic and hope. Lucy carried a war hammer for a reason. Her squad mates carried swords, maces, and axes for the same reason. Their duties as soldiers were calling to them. War was never the answer, but they protected their homeland from those who thought it was.

“Razor Ripley is here! Salute!” And just like that, Lucy spit her prized possession out of her mouth and joined her squad mates in a straight line, barking their heads off until their voices echoed across the sky. While her much bigger brethren had muscle and power behind their voices, Lucy’s bark was that of a yappy murder victim despite nobody ever laying a finger on her. That’s just how she was.

But the bass in her squadron’s voices couldn’t compare to the monstrous bellow that came out of Razor Ripley’s skeletal mouth. “SHUT UP, STUPID DOGS!” That was the name of their group and upon hearing it, the dogs did what they were told before tensing up military style, weapons in hand, ready for a job.

Ripley cracked his bony knuckles and wiggled his fingers for extra effect. “I’m certain you all have heard the news of a new enemy on the horizon. Except we’ve faced him before and succeeded. But even in this enemy’s new form, we will succeed again. King Harrison Gaines, the brother of our beloved ruler James Gaines, has possessed the body of my lovable lapdog Loki. Loki the Skull as he’s now called is the new vessel for chaos and destruction. King James is busy securing other powerplants here on Rainbow Ranch. We are here to secure this one. Harrison made the vast majority of animals into humanoids expecting them to want revenge on those who dumped them here. When he didn’t get what he wanted, he went insane and incited the violence himself. We can’t let him do that for a second time. Even with his necromantic abilities, we are one! We are strong! We will put him back into the dirt where he belongs! Do you all understand that?!” The dogs barked their loudest. “I can’t hear you! Sound off like you mean it!”

The dogs barked even louder than before, but Lucy was the most animated despite her diminutive form. She swung her hammer all around while declaring, “Let me at him, Razor Ripley! I’ll give him the old one-two-buckle my shoe!” In her overzeal, Lucy spun around and belly flopped onto the ground, her hammer spinning like a beer bottle until it skittered to the tip of Ripley’s toe. Her squad partners gasped in horror while Lucy smiled nervously at her boss.

With a glare on his face that could shake entire civilizations due to his fiery green eyes, Ripley picked up the hammer and marched over to the fallen Lucy, who was trembling and sweating in terror. She gulped a wad of saliva while Ripley’s leather sandaled footsteps echoed off the ground. Ripley leaned down. “On your feet, this instance!” Lucy sprung back up without a second thought before her hammer was given back to her. With a low and sinister tone, her boss said, “I hope you finish your job better than you started. Because if I have to have this conversation with you again…you won’t enjoy the outcome!”

Lucy gulped again. “Yes, sir.” Out of fantasy-land and into the harsh realities of Rainbow Ranch, a place whose survival hinged on her being the best soldier she could be. There was a reason she wore metal armor instead of a wool sweater that her grandma loved dressing her in. There was a reason she carried a hammer and not a tennis ball that reeked of dog breath. There was a reason everyone was glaring at her for literally falling behind on work. It was time to put down the toys and pick up weapons of war that no dog had any business carrying.

The Shut Up Stupid Dogs alongside Razor Ripley marched back and forth in a patrol unit looking for any sign of trouble. The gigantic bulldogs and pitbulls marched with a purpose. Razor Ripley floated through the air like a specter aching for his next haunt. Lucy just stared at the stone floor with the weight of early failure dragging down on her neck. She didn’t want to let anybody down. She wanted to be the goodest of good girls. She also wanted one of her squad mates to scratch her behind the ears and tell her it was okay.

In the glow of a purple magical aura shadowing behind her, Lucy had one more opportunity to prove herself. There he was in the flesh and fur: Loki the Skull, donning a black wizard’s robe with a hood barely concealing his murderous face. No lapdog should ever have been described that way, but here they were.

“This is the end of the line, Harrison!” threatened Razor Ripley as he gathered green energy in his bony hands. His soldiers readied their weapons and backed him up. Lucy once again shook in terror as she stood behind her boss, not out of solidarity, but out of fear of the magical lunatic that floated before them. “Ozzie the Wise has no time or tolerance for you! None of us do! What you’ve done was inexcusable! Now go back to bed, sweet king!”

Razor Ripley threw fireballs and lightning bolts at Loki the Skull while the dog soldiers attempted to rush into battle, cutting their foe off at all angles. Lucy held her war hammer in her trembling hands, clearly out of her league with this evil wizard. Despite having a clear numbers disadvantage, Loki the Skull held his own with rings of electricity and stardust emitting from his aura. The soldiers were swept off their feet while Ripley was blown backwards by the magical tremors. Ripley gave cover fire to his troops while they looked for an opportunity to flank past Loki’s magic and get within striking distance. Every time a soldier thought he had a chance, he was blown back even further with a fiery ring.

Lucy continued to bite her nails and watch in horror while one of her comrades was hanging onto the side of the building, scratching, clawing, and yelping for help. Loki smiled sickeningly as he slowly zeroed in on what would be his first kill of the battle. Loki’s paws electrified, his breath emitted clouds of poison, and his laugh made his evil intentions as clear as the crystal that powered this plant.

Lucy didn’t know which one she feared more: Loki the Skull or knowing she would let her squad down if she continued standing there without doing anything. The sight of Razor Ripley scowling at her and her squad mate dangling on the edge brought forth a fiery heart of her own. She readied her hammer and pitter-pattered across the ground, ducking underneath Loki’s defensive rings. And then she jumped in the air, one mighty swing of her hammer coming down on Loki’s foot.

Harrison’s vessel howled like werewolf while dancing around holding his cartoonishly thumping and pumping foot. Lucy wasted no time in pulling her friend back onto the building while Loki took a plunge of his own. Soon Loki’s cries of pain and terror grew quieter and quieter until he splashed into a lower bank of water like a turd in a toilet bowl.

Lucy’s squadron, Razor Ripley included, gazed upon her with shock and awe. She could only give a nervous smile in response. And then the dogs cheered and hoisted her on their shoulders in victory. “Congratulations, Lucy, you did it! Woo-hoo!” said the tennis ball-wielding bulldog from earlier. The hip-hip-hoorays continued as Lucy was launched higher and higher into the air. She laughed and screamed, “WEE!” while Razor Ripley crossed his arms and smiled benevolently in what seemed like the first time since forever.

Then the sound of cackling fire and electricity started up again and the next time Lucy was caught, she toppled her squad mates. “No…NO!” she cried while Loki the Skull floated right back up to the top of the powerplant, evil energy swirling around him and downward eyes glaring holes through all of his opponents. This time everybody backed up in fear, but Lucy’s newfound confidence led her tiny legs into battle once again. But this time, Loki brought backup in the form of the water from the river bank he had just splashed in. It rose in a tidal wave behind him, taller than the highest trees and more destructive than a biblical flood.

The wave crashed down upon the Shut Up Stupid Dogs and Razor Ripley, washing them down the side of the pyramid-like powerplant. The squad mates and Ripley screamed their heads off as they were being tossed around by the turbulence. Lucy, on the other hand, squealed in delight like she was riding a water slide. “WEEEEEEEEEE!” She even let out a few giggles while her friends were probably defecating themselves knowing they were going to get squished by whatever was down there. Sure enough, the wave hit the bottom of the pyramid and splashed the Shut Up Stupid Dogs and their boss every which way.

The end of the “ride” came when Lucy smacked her butt on the dirty ground and giggled one last time. “That was fun! Let’s do that again, guys!” No response from or sight of her squad mates. “Guys?! Guys, where are you?!” She pitter-pattered on the dirt ground looking for her friends, crying for help and howling in her murder victim way. Just like the day she was abandoned on this once desolate island, Lucy the Hammer was all alone and she knew it. Her head hung low, but not without her blowing the water out of her ears and letting out a deep sigh. Just like the patrol at the top of the pyramid, she trudged along the ground not knowing where to go or how to recover from a failure she thought was her fault. “Where’s my tennis ball?” she softly whined.

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!”

Charles Goodhorn

My older brother James has this habit of introducing me to certain media and then years later losing interest in it himself. He did it with the bands Crossfade, Nightwish, and Limp Bizkit. I still love those bands and James thinks they’re a bunch of big babies. In the late 90’s, he introduced me to Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (second edition). I became addicted to it and he now thinks D&D players have no life. James changes his interests more often than he changes his underwear (not that I would know anything about his underwear habits).

But if it wasn’t for him, two things would have happened. One, I would assume RPG’s are all hack and slash and no role-playing or puzzle solving (like the Final Fantasy franchise). And two, Charles Goodhorn would be an afterthought. I originally wanted to call him Charles Goldhorn (because I had a Lego piece that was a golden trumpet), but James advised me to tweak it to Goodhorn to fit Charles’ paladin class. That ended up being good advice.

As a D&D character in the late 90’s, Charles Goodhorn, a human paladin, reached level eight before he was never used again. Throughout those eight levels of awesome adventures, I learned what it meant to be a true good guy. Paladins have a strict code of behavior they need to conform to lest they lose their magical powers and become fighters without weapon specialization. They have to have a lawful good alignment, they have to donate money to a church or to poor people, they have to help the weak whenever in danger, and they can’t have henchmen who deviate from lawful goodness. I followed this code of behavior to a tee until one day at level eight, he broke the rules by assaulting someone of good alignment (at the time, I thought the guy was evil). While Charles never actually made the transformation into a fighter, he was never used again.

In 2010 when I was still writing movie scripts, Charles was revamped into an orc paladin and became a sheriff in the D&D-style fantasy movie Gangs of Kingston. He was basically one man trying to keep order in a town highly populated with criminals and sociopaths. The streets of Kingston were piled high with dead bodies and blood pools. That’s not an exaggeration, that’s what Kingston looked like.

After a while of being overwhelmed by his duties, Charles became apathetic over time and doesn’t reconsider his disposition until the main character, an elf warrior named Jonah Jeriqee, immerses himself too deeply into the gang system of Kingston and almost gets himself killed. This would have made an awesome movie, but unfortunately, I don’t live in Hollywood, so there’s no way it would have made it onto the big screen. Plus, 2010 was a time in my life where my writing had no literary influences and therefore suffered greatly.

That’s two times in a row where Charles Goodhorn has been overlooked, both as a human D&D character and an orcish movie character. If I ever do recycle him, I’d want him to be done right this time. He’s not going to be an apathetic sheriff nor his he going to get somebody’s alignment wrong and almost kill them. He’s going to be the perfect good guy until the very end. He can have a few flaws, but not so many that it changes him into a sociopath. If ever becomes perfect, he can be a side character. Either that, or he can be the lead character who earns his way to becoming perfect. Sounds like a perfect day for a D&D story. Sounds like an even better start to the third act of Fireball Nightmare (if I have one). My spine is tingling with delight! Either that or I need to see a chiropractor.

　

***JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What does a futuristic police officer produce while he’s in the bathroom?

A: Robo Crap.

Lego Ogre with a Tooth Hammer

Toys continue to be a part of my life even now that I’m well into adulthood and technically “too old” for them. While I don’t actually get them out and play with them like I did as a kid, I do have aspirations of using them as characters in either my short stories or my novels. My Lego ogre with a tooth hammer isn’t any different. He may look like dots and studs to you, but to me, he’s a hulking, destructive, demonic, badass fucking giant with a spike hammer that can drive telephone poles into the ground like nails. You’re damn right he’s going to be a villain one day.

I found this devilish beauty while vacationing in Canada as part of my WWU graduation celebration. Canada is already a lovely country to live in, but add to that a toy store with an affinity for Legos and I’m in heaven. The Lego set itself was $50 and came from the Creator series. If you’re not familiar it, every set in that series can be one of three different things. In the case of the one I bought, it could have been either an Asian dragon, a European dragon, or the one I chose, a big fucking ogre with a mountain-crushing hammer. Guess which one I chose.

I don’t have an official first and last name for this character, but he was at one point a protagonist in the first act of an all-dialogue novel called Toy Story Extreme. At the time, his name was Jinn Malakian and he was a finalist in a fighting tournament that took place all over Port Orchard, Washington from my bedroom to Quizno’s to the convenience store. The whole point of Jinn’s character was that he was being forced to fight for his master’s sick pleasure (at the risk of being sold to Goodwill or Ross). The master eventually went to jail for vandalizing all of the “battlefields” and Jinn Malakian quietly disappeared from the story.

As an artist, I’m my own worst critic. Nobody will ever be more critical of me than I am of me. You can thank Dave Batista for that sound byte. It’s because of my self-toughness that Toy Story Extreme will never be allowed to see publication on my Smash Words, Amazon, or Lulu accounts. The all-dialogue format sounds good on paper, but when my bread and butter happens to be hyperbolic descriptions mostly used by WWE commentators, then the novel suffers horribly, so much so it’s irreparable.

Because of a foolish writing style on my part, the ogre formerly known as Jinn Malakian is unemployed yet again. He’s my favorite toy. I’d even dare say he’s the face of whatever story he’s a part of (despite that face being hideous to look at with the elongated teeth and dense jawbone). In a strange way, I see a little bit of Diablo 2’s barbarian class in my Lego ogre. They’re both vicious, raging warriors who prefer the thrill of toe-to-toe combat over cowardly striking from afar.

Then again, anybody who went up against this monster could be considered a coward. An intelligent and wise coward, but a coward nonetheless. Someday he’ll be part of a story. I’m even considering using him in my current dark fantasy novel Fireball Nightmare, the same novel that stars Deus Shadowheart and Dr. Scott Cain. That’s how much he means to me.

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“If I hadn’t left the WWE, nobody would know who John Cena was. He would have been buying boxes of Fruity Pebbles and eating them at home instead of getting paid to eat them.”

-Brock Lesnar-