Thursday, March 23, 2017

Mexican Cruise

***MEXICAN CRUISE***

From March 26th (this Sunday) to April 4th (next Tuesday), I’m going to have a minimal presence on the internet due to a Mexican cruise I’m going on with my parents with a trip to Disneyland afterwards. It feels good to get out of the house every then and what better way to do it than by embarking on a Mexican cruise? Beautiful beaches, beautiful women, beautiful sunshine…beautiful everything! I might even bring home a pair of Mickey Mouse ears, hopefully ones that will fit over my gigantic head.

As I’ve said with past vacations, my online presence will be reduced to answering messages here and there and nothing more. That means for the next two WSS contests (including this one), I’m going to withdraw my participation. No Demon Axe chapters until I get back home in my own beddy-bye with my own kitty-pie. Heh, that rhymes. Maybe I’ll get pairs of mouse ears for my kitties and puppies. Can you imagine how silly Maggie would look with Mickey Mouse ears? She already looks like a Disney dog, so what more could we possibly do? Hehe!

Adios, amigos! Thanks for reading!


***POISON TONGUE TALES***

My paperback copy of Poison Tongue Tales has finally arrived in the mail today. Everything looks in tiptop condition, so I gave my approval for publication and it’ll be a few days before my book becomes available on Amazon. A lot of hard work went into editing the hell out of this collection of short stories. I know it’ll be well-received by those who decide to buy a copy. My biggest thanks goes out to Marie Krepps for her wise-assed critiques and awesome cover-designing skills. She did a lot for me over the past few years and it’s a debt I can never repay no matter how hard I try. Thank you so much, Babe-a-Licious Mondo!


***WRESTLING JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What did Roman Reigns say to Captain Jack Sparrow?


A: I thought pirates had cannonballs. It turns out you’re just smuggling some BB pellets.

Tribes

PLAY TITLE: Tribes
PLAYWRIGHT: Nina Raine
OPENING YEAR: 2010
MATURE CONTENT: Language
GENRE: Family Drama
GRADE: Mixed

Verbal sparring is the conversation of choice within a Jewish-British family that consists of rightwing nut job father Christopher, detective novelist mother Beth, schizophrenic college student Daniel, spitfire opera star Ruth, and the centerpiece of this play, the deaf translator Billy. Their already volatile situation is made worse when Billy finds romance with another deaf person named Sylvia, who teaches him sign language. Billy believes that Sylvia has been more supportive of him than his own family and the two move into an apartment together. The common theme of this play is finding acceptance in a world that seems to be closing in around the oppressed.

This play is divided into two acts and I can safely say that the second is better than the first. The first act serves as an introduction to all of the dysfunction within Billy’s argumentative family. While I understand that building up to the climax has to start somewhere, the first act felt unrealistic to me as far as fighting goes. It seemed like the characters were arguing for the sake of arguing. Instead of resolving their differences, the family comes off as total jerks that nobody wants to relate to. Sure, there are some funny lines in there, but humor is subjective and I only laughed three times during this whole play. My favorite line has to be when the father makes a joke about how having sex with an ugly woman is like “sticking your cock in a cement mixer”. Every other piece of dialogue comes off as childish and mean-spirited. I bet there are families like that out there, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to be around them.

The second act was a breath of fresh air compared to the first. Instead of mindless bickering that doesn’t feel organic, you get true emotional situations. Arbitrary anger is replaced with pain, heartbreak, and passion. You can feel Sylvia’s heart shattering into a million pieces when she talks about feeling alone in this world even among a group of other deaf people. When Billy throws his Santa hat in frustration, you’d better have some tissues in your pockets. When Daniel’s stammering habits come back to haunt him, you want to be part of his hug with Billy near the end. Even though they had a blandly angry script to work with in act one, the actors did a phenomenal job in carrying the drama through. Imagine what they can pull off when the emotions are believable and relatable on a deeper level.

Speaking of believability, Daniel’s schizophrenic quirks struck a chord within me. As many of my readers know, I’ve been a schizophrenic since 2002, maybe earlier. The struggle to shut up the voices, the feeling of despair, the voices interrupting during important conversations, the insulting language in which the voices speak, those were all things I could relate to when it came to Daniel’s character. By the time the play was over, I was rooting for him to get better. In act one, however, he acts like a major pain in the ass and in many cases a verbal bully, which is why it took so long for me to relate to him. But relate to him I did. I even had to remind myself that erratic behavior is a common symptom of schizophrenia. Lord knows I’ve done some crazy stuff during the early onset of my disease.


Somewhere in the scuffle of hateful dialogue, there are messages about accepting each other for who we are, being free-thinking individuals, and being supportive when it truly counts. You might have to wait a while for the more tender parts of the play to show themselves, but it’ll be worth the wait. Some of the banter might remind you of your own family, though hopefully not to that extreme. If you’re not overly sensitive when it comes to dysfunctional family matters, then I would advise you to buy a ticket to see this play. Patience is a virtue, which is true for living with crazy characters and watching this performance. I believe a mixed grade will do just fine.

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

McDonald's Prostitute

VERSE 1
Which tastes worse: the blowjob or the burger?
Which is more sadistic: slavery or murder?
Which is more dangerous: the fries or the lies?
Which is more confusing: the whats or the whys?
Stretched so thin like lying on a torture table
Scraping up whatever small change you’re able
Put on the pounds and make orgasmic sounds
Nobody will help you in this selfish town

CHORUS
McDonald’s prostitute, what’re you fighting for?
An economy that doesn’t subsidize war?
A market that doesn’t overpower the rich?
They’ll be the first to tell you that life is a bitch!

VERSE 2
What ice cream do you want: vanilla or chocolate?
Where’s your money: in your purse or your pocket?
Where do you call home: the bridge or the streets?
What’s the ending to this story: victory or defeat?
I would never judge you for your desperation
I would never insult you or give you lacerations
It’s not your fault and you’re not in the wrong
Have my twenty dollar bill and the lyrics to this song

CHORUS
McDonald’s prostitute, what’re you fighting for?
An economy that doesn’t subsidize war?
A market that doesn’t overpower the rich?
They’ll be the first to tell you that life is a bitch!

VERSE 3
A triple bacon burger with onions and pickles
A man in black robes with a sick-looking sickle
The loneliness will kill you before the food does
A disgusting fucking joke is what this all was
Everybody wanted it to go wrong from the start
They vote with their balls and not with their hearts
Now they can’t even fill up their shopping carts
Except with their last possessions and metal parts

CHORUS X2
McDonald’s prostitute, what’re you fighting for?
An economy that doesn’t subsidize war?
A market that doesn’t overpower the rich?

They’ll be the first to tell you that life is a bitch!

Sunday, March 19, 2017

"What Hides in the Darkness" by K.L. Cottrell

BOOK TITLE: What Hides in the Darkness
AUTHOR: K.L. Cottrell
YEAR: 2014
GENRE: Fiction
SUBGENRE: Paranormal Fantasy
GRADE: Extra Credit

Everywhere Marienne goes, she sees hideous monsters disguised as real people. It started when she lost her parents in a car accident and her sister Claire blamed her for it. At first Marienne believes she’s going crazy until she sees two of these Hellions gang up on a handsome young man named Gabe. All pumped full of adrenaline, she joins the fray and helps him destroy both monsters. It is then revealed that Marienne is not alone when it comes to her ability to detect Hellions. Those with this ability are referred to as The Light Force. She undergoes athletic and combative training with other members of The Light as part of her newfound calling in wiping out these demonic beasts.

One of the many things I enjoyed about this book was how lovable these main characters are. It shows in the flirtatious and sometimes awkward way in which Marienne and Gabe talk to each other and slowly build up their budding romance. It also shows when Beatrix and Wes, a married Light Force couple, have each other’s backs through the hardest of times. Combine all four of these awesome characters together and you have a recipe for sweetness that rivals Betty Crocker cake mix. They stick together through thick and thin. They laugh and smile when they’re having fun together and cry endlessly for each other when danger strikes. With this kind of unbreakable friendship, the Hellions don’t stand a chance.

In addition to characters you will instantly fall in love with, others have the world’s most punchable faces. The character I despise most is Rafe, the predatory ex-boyfriend of Marienne who cheated on her with her best friend Audrey and wonders why things ended the way they did. Then you have the ultra-nutty sister Claire, who insults and slaps the stuffing out of Marienne whenever she gets the chance. And don’t get me started about Claire’s new boyfriend Shaun. Actually, I probably shouldn’t get started on him anyways since there’s a twist in the middle of the book about Shaun and I don’t want to give away spoilers. The most irritating part about these villains is that they’re realistic and actually believe in the hate they’re preaching. In wrestling lingo, these people are called “heels” and they’re doing a great job of angering the reader.

And now for the reason why I gave this book an ultra-rare extra credit grade (five stars). I mentioned before how sweet and likeable the heroic characters were. The physical training Marienne goes through reflects so much of those traits that it doesn’t feel like an overwhelming marine boot camp storyline. She’s self-motivated enough that she gets through her intense exercises and sparring sessions without one line ripped from R. Lee Ermey’s character in Full Metal Jacket. I believe we all have the ability to motivate ourselves through anything if we feel passionately enough about it. Knowing Marienne, Gabe, Wes, and Beatrix’s friendship is still intact after all of this heavy work is refreshing to me, especially after watching movies and TV shows where the drill instructor mentality rules over everything. The battles and traumas the heroes endure in this book are no joke, so they have to be there for each other and have emotional moments every now and then.


The fast pace, the likeable heroes, the despicable villains, the world building, and the loving nature of it all make What Hides in the Darkness an awesome book worth reading from beginning to end. The author even does a great job of making you want to complete the trilogy with her perfectly-timed cliffhanger ending. Give this woman your patronage and she’ll give you five-star entertainment!

Saturday, March 18, 2017

The Perks of Being a Zombie

VERSE 1
I once had wild dreams of being a creator
But everyone else was a heel commentator
“Fix computers, scoop ice cream into cones
Do it all for your wallet and future home”
But I resisted every obnoxious voice
The ones in my head gave me no choice
“Listen and conform to everything we say
If you don’t want bleed for the rest of the day”

CHORUS
“Move it! Move it! Get your fat ass in gear!
Let’s go! Let’s go! Before I kick you in the rear!
Faster! Faster! Listen to what’s in your ear!
The perks of being a zombie are always clear!”

VERSE 2
I packed up and went to the indoctrination center
The closest place to hell that I could ever enter
I wouldn’t know it from the numbness in my brain
When it comes to pain, it all feels the same
Psychotic behavior was disguised as laziness
Torment and anguish was disguised as craziness
I never felt so naked in all of my goddamn life
The suicidal tendencies always felt so right

CHORUS
“Move it! Move it! Get your fat ass in gear!
Let’s go! Let’s go! Before I kick you in the rear!
Faster! Faster! Listen to what’s in your ear!
The perks of being a zombie are always clear!”

VERSE 3
I had a Broken Universe before it became cool
My pillow was always soaked in undead drool
My dreams were grayer than the winter shadow
Doing my homework was always such a battle
One day in psychology class, I found the name
Of the force inside me that brought me shame
A condition that I thought was traumatic cinema
Name of my disease was paranoid schizophrenia

ALTERNATIVE CHORUS
I am the master! You are the slave!
Nobody tells me how to behave!
It took a whole decade, but my eyes are wide!
I don’t have to run, I don’t have to hide!
My nights are cozy, my dreams are sweeter!
I’m a positive force and a negative eater!
You call me crazy and I give my thanks!

I’m the captain of the ship, I’m pulling rank!

Friday, March 17, 2017

Demon Axe, Chapter 17

“It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

These gentle words brought a flood of light into Raven’s blacked out field of vision. She squinted so that her eyes could adjust, but they were still stinging from her battle with Roger Zee. Upon being reminded of that hideous name, she sat up with a quickness only to clutch her aching ribs and be laid back down again by powerful hands on her arms. Every part of her body felt like it was branded with a hot iron. Yet in this familiar man’s care, she remained relaxed.

Her burning eyes opened some more until the blurry shape before her straightened into focus. The long brown hair, the middle-aged face, the rock n’ roll T-shirt, they were all there. Raven couldn’t believe such gentle care came from a man whose occupation required fiery aggression. It was him alright. The man she had so many petty arguments with, yet couldn’t be without. Daniel Mercer smiled down on her with the face only a mother could love…a Mother of Dragons, that is.

“Daniel…we have to….we have to find my father…” whimpered Raven.

“I know, Raven. Trust me, I know. Shawn and I got here a little too late. I’m so sorry,” said Daniel.

With her clear vision, the elf princess gazed around the room to find she was lying on a police blanket in the back of a SWAT van. The dented shelter wasn’t pretty nor was the van mobile at all, but it was better than the battlefield of dead bodies waiting for them outside. Tears welled up in Raven’s eyes as she thought of her lost comrades.

Daniel wiped them away with the bottom of his shirt and said, “It’ll be okay. We’re going to find your father and that bastard Roger. But you need to rest for now. You were badly beaten when we found you.”

“How can I even think about resting when…?” cried Raven.

“Listen to me,” said Daniel as he held the elf’s hand in his own. “I know how much your father means to you. But if you go out and look for him in the condition you’re in, you won’t stand a chance. I know this, because I too had to stay in the hospital before I came here. That’s the reason why I was late.”

Raven’s face oozed with concern and sorrow when she asked, “Why were you in the hospital, Daniel? What did Roger do to you?”

The singer breathed a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a few more heavy breaths, he said with trepidation, “He tortured me. I formed a new band just as I said I would…and he took all of us to a black site…he…” Daniel rubbed the sogginess out of his eyes. “He killed all of them right in front of me…and he took me to a dark room…he fucking tortured me with my own music…”

The elf princess squeezed Daniel’s hand in sympathy while using her other hand to brush his long locks. “That’s awful…He’s a goddamn monster!”

“For a while, I didn’t think I could ever be interested in metal music again. I thought my dream was over. The very thing that got me through life was going to be taken away from me. And then…I, uh…the place I went to in order to stop the pain…was you, Raven. I thought about how lovely you were…how much you cared…how you saved me from my own nightmares…It’s the only thing that got me through it all. If it wasn’t for those images, I probably would have…killed myself,” sobbed Daniel.

Despite having a bruised and battered body, Raven found the strength to slowly sit up and give her friend a loving hug, which he returned. They stayed locked in each other’s embrace for the longest time. Long enough to finally ignore their own pain, both physical and emotional.

“There’s something I have to tell you, Daniel. It’s about why you were chosen to take on Roger,” confessed Raven.

When the embrace was gingerly broken, the singer said, “You don’t owe me an explanation. I know what I must do and why I should do it.”

“No, you don’t understand. It’s deeper than that, Daniel. Please, let me explain,” said Raven as she laid back down on the blanket. “My father has been around for many generations. He doesn’t have much longer to live. For a while we’ve been looking around scouting for a new king to rule over the elves. My father chose you, Daniel. He’s been watching you for a long time. He knows how passionate you can be. He knows where your morals lie. He believes in you.”

Daniel’s expression softened when he said, “But…I don’t know how to be a leader, Raven. I don’t know anything about being a politician. I led two heavy metal bands and all members of both bands are fucking dead. They’re dead because of me.”

“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” asked Raven. “What did I teach you when I showed you the EMDR technique at the arena? Besides, I’m not much of a leader either as you can tell from the dead bodies outside. But if we’re judging our leadership skills based on another asshole’s actions, then you are really the only option we have. How is this any different from the politics of your human world?”

“Gee, thanks, Raven,” said Daniel with a light chuckle. Raven giggled as well. “But if we can be serious for a moment, what do I have to offer the elves if I can’t even handle my own goddamn life?”

“You have something that Roger hates with all of his might. You have creativity. You have music. You have a soul. A good soul, at that. Elves are passionate about the arts as you can tell from the lovely shapes of our buildings…before they were destroyed of course. Elves especially love music. That microphone we gave you is imbued with the souls of lost musicians. Every time you scream into the mouthpiece, you’re channeling their energy into every word you speak. When you sang that line about darkness before dawn, you made me believe in myself again. That’s how powerful your words really are. That’s why you must be next in line for the elven throne.”

Daniel hung his head in contemplation while petting Raven’s arm. The weight of the elven world rested on his shoulders, but he was determined to carry it with a titan’s strength. He lifted his head up to give an answer and a tiny smile was etched on his face. “If I become king of the elves…does that make you my queen?”

Raven threw her head back and giggled lightly enough to not aggravate her injuries. She thought it was just a joke, but when the laughter ceased, she saw the passion in Daniel’s eyes that King Arthur Triscloud himself boasted about. That was the look of someone with a purpose. That was the look of a hero. He knew he couldn’t rule this kingdom alone. He also knew he couldn’t live this life alone. He’d done the latter for so long throughout this campaign.

“Oh, Daniel…” whispered Raven as the two of them leaned in for a passionate kiss. As they brushed lips together and wrestled tongues, every ounce of energy they held back before came rushing into this loving moment. They spent so long denying each other and bickering senselessly. Neither of them wanted to give into each other until this private moment together. They kissed deeply, hugged tightly, and brushed each other’s hair wildly.

They were jerked away from their sexy moment when the back door of the van flung open and Shawn Henry stood there wide-eyed and with healing herbs in hand. He awkwardly said, “I found the medical supplies from the castle….in case you’re interested.”

“Um…yes, uh…of course we’re interested, Shawn. Thank you,” stammered Daniel as he crawled off of Raven and snatched the leaves out of the detective’s hands. He turned back to the wounded elf and said, “These, uh…these will help you recover, and…”

“We’ve used those before, Daniel. I know how they work,” said Raven.

The Lord of the Pit shakily crawled back to Raven and began applying the healing leaves and medical acid. He tried to be as nonchalant as possible when he said to Shawn, “You can leave now. I’ve got it from here.”

“Try not to have too much fun in there,” said Shawn with a smart-ass grin as he shut the van door.

Daniel smiled himself and said, “Well, that right there is what I like to call reverse Viagra.”

“You humans and your boner pills,” giggled Raven before she clutched her ribs in pain. “Hurry up and put that stuff on me, I’m hurting like hell!”


“Yes, Princess, I mean, Queen Triscloud!”

Thursday, March 16, 2017

Raggyd

***RAGGYD***

What do you get when you combine minimal reading experience, a massive ego, and four fantasy characters who have no earthly business being together? The answer is Raggyd, a medieval fantasy novel idea I had in 2004 when I took a creative writing class at Olympic College. As horrible as it ended up being, it was also the launching pad for my poetry skills. Ergo, if it wasn’t for Raggyd in 2004, I wouldn’t have published Confessions of a Schizophrenic Savage in 2013 nor Necrograph in 2016. I’m halfway through another book of poetry called Prophecy, so that’s in my near future.

With an underdeveloped plot, Raggyd was little more than an excuse to use four characters I really had an affinity for. There was the pit fighting barbarian Graf Lunge, the gothic samurai Eron Putris, the acrobatic thief Baby, and the witch hunter zealot Futez Mysida. Somehow these four characters were going to come together to fight a super powerful enemy named…are you ready for this…Vine Wielders. That’s his name, folks. Vine fucking Wielders. Sounds threatening, doesn’t it?

The first chapter I wrote for Raggyd was an interaction between Baby and Futez. Futez wanted Baby to join his religious organization and Baby declined by making a smart-ass remark about how the only thing Futez plans on stealing is the altar boy’s virginity. Naturally, the witch hunter was less than pleased and sicked an entire squadron of ball and chain-wielding soldiers upon his would-be charge.

As much as the class enjoyed Baby’s dig about fucking altar boys, Raggyd was a critical flop among the students. They had all criticisms for me and no compliments. Other students had compliments for their stories, but I didn’t and that put a huge dent in my massive ego. What really set me off was when a fellow student named Patrick flat out said the story sucked. You know you have a hair trigger temper when the words “it sucked” causes you to blow a major gasket. Of course, I didn’t actually explode in the classroom, but I was boiling over on the inside. I needed some kind of revenge on Patrick in the worst way. Beating the piss out of him would land me in jail, so I needed something a little more…legal.

Around this time in my life, I was watching a lot of WWE (surprise, surprise). Since this was the autumn of 2004, John Cena was still over with the crowd during his white rapper gimmick. I’ll always tell people that hip-hop was the catalyst for my poetry career, but what a lot of people don’t know is that John Cena’s battle raps were the biggest source of inspiration for me. From those TV-14 insults, my revenge poem against Patrick was formulated. I would go on a lengthy diatribe about how I would impregnate Patrick’s mother, sodomize him, and give him up to the orcish horde (because he looked like Frodo Baggins). I would have read this out loud during creative writing class, but Patrick made a face turn and started being nicer to the class, so I pulled back at the last minute.

As far as Raggyd goes, just for the sake of spiting my critics, I wrote a 130-page movie script detailing the exploits of Graf Lunge and Baby. Had I continued this series, there would have been a script dedicated to Eron and Futez and there would have been another one after that dedicated to the final battle with Vine Wielders. For the time being, Graf Lunge’s story was about him getting kidnapped at an early age and forced to train as a pit fighter under drill instructor-style conditions. Baby’s story was about him being sick of his religious upbringing and joining the thieves’ guild, where his training was much nicer by comparison.

Raggyd had a lot of potential to be something big, but I eventually lost interest in continuing it due to the silence of my critics and a growing interest in other movie scripts. That means Graf Lunge, Baby, Futez Mysida, and Eron Putris are all orphaned characters. They’ll be used in other stories, no doubt, but what stories and when? I particularly grew fond of Graf Lunge because of his name (believe it or not) and his barbarian gimmick (naturally). And now that I think about it, Baby and Eron have different incarnations in other published stories. Over a decade later, Baby would become a child’s doll come to life in “Nail Bomb” and Eron would take the role of Floyd the sparring android from “The New Trainer”. Both of those stories will be published in Poison Tongue Tales. That leaves Graf and Futez without a home.

When I look back on the origins of Raggyd and the hurtful environment from which it came, a part of me wishes Olympic College wouldn’t have allowed that format to go on for any creative writing class. Apparently, this is a common occurrence for a lot of schools, not just OC. You read your story or poem out loud to the class and stay silent while the other students judge your piece. The other students can be as harsh or as nasty as they want with no consequence. It’s always been my understanding that school was supposed to be a place where students could grow and mature, not be taken down. But hey, I’ve watched Pink Floyd the Wall millions of times before, so I should have known better.

If I didn’t attend that class, I wouldn’t have written that battle rap about Patrick and therefore, I would have no poetry career. While I admit that my angry poetry got me in trouble more than once, I have no regrets about any of it, because I’d like to think I’ve improved since then. Maybe that’s why “Confessions of a Schizophrenic Savage” holds a four-star rating on Good Reads and Necrograph holds a five-star rating on the same website.

The lesson of this blog entry is to live your life with no regrets, because if you change just one part of your personal history, the rest of your life will be completely different. Without the negative experiences of your past, you wouldn’t appreciate the positive ones you have now. Raggyd will see the light of day again sometime in the near future. When that is, I have no idea. Until then, adios, amigos! Thanks for reading!


***JOKE OF THE DAY***

Q: What do you call someone who masturbates to Maid Marian while watching through her window?


A: Rubbin’ Hood.