Saturday, May 6, 2017

Believe

Believe in the beauty of rock bottom failure
Believe you can cross rough waters like a sailor
Believe this world is yours for the taking
Believe in the beauty of the art you’re making
Believe your heart is made of pure gold
Believe you can crush the lies you are told
Believe your soul can never be sold
Believe the fire inside can never go cold
Believe in your own battle-tested story
Believe normalcy is so damn boring
Believe conformity is never the answer
Believe indifference is the ultimate cancer
Believe passion is more powerful than a pistol
Believe true love is stronger than a missile
If you know something in your heart to be true
Sitting back and watching isn’t the thing to do
You have a voice; it’s time to make your choice
Make a bold statement or just make some noise
Believe in your power to shake the landscape
Look beyond the train wrecks and bad days
Believe in your power to never give up
Despite the many days that just might suck
Believe the end is only the beginning

Believe this is truly a life worth living

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

"Moon Knight, Vol. 1: Lunatic" by Jeff Lemire

BOOK TITLE: Moon Knight, Vol. 1: Lunatic
AUTHOR: Jeff Lemire
YEAR: 2016
GENRE: Graphic Novel
SUBGENRE: Superhero
GRADE: Pass

Marc Specter wakes up in a corrupt mental hospital with no clue how he got there. He spent his previous life masquerading as vigilante superhero Moon Knight, but the abusive orderlies and condescending psychologist try to coerce him into believing he’s just a nut case who deserves to be locked up. With the help of several patients who believe his story, Moon Knight attempts to escape the hospital in order to complete a mission given to him by his head voices: to assassinate the Egyptian god Seth and bring his monstrous army to its knees.

The lines between reality and insanity are blurred so many times in this graphic novel that it’s hard to pick a side, which is a good way to challenge the reader and make him analyze what the hell is going on. On one hand, you want to believe that the Moon Knight is a real superhero and that he wants to do the right thing. On the other hand, there are times when the questions surrounding Moon Knight’s sanity are valid and reasonable. Even when this first volume comes to its end, the jury’s still out as to whether or not this is all madness. When you’re forced to draw your own conclusions, you’re officially engaged as a reader and you want to buy more volumes of this Moon Knight series to find out if your suspicions are correct. This first volume is the addictive bait and the proceeding chapters will lead you to bigger fish.

Whether you believe it’s insanity or not, you have to admit that the mental hospital staff are a bunch of corrupt bastards who have no business in the medical industry. The orderlies assault Moon Knight for no reason and strap him to the shock table whenever they damn well feel like it. The head psychologist is no better; the way she talks down to her patients breeds resistance to treatment rather than progression. This could be a political statement about how prisons and mental hospitals (which are really just prisons for crazy people) are all about profit and will do whatever they can to make more money by keeping their inmates locked up indefinitely. Being released into society does nothing, because the inmate will be so angry from his time under lockdown that he’ll commit more crimes and wind up back where he started. Imagine how refreshing it’ll be to see the orderlies and doctors get the stuffing beaten out of them and literally get a taste of their own medicine. Patience, my friends. Patience.

The final thing I have to admire about this graphic novel is that there’s a lot of creativity underneath the guise of insanity. When the orderlies, doctors, and other villains are portrayed as Egyptian monsters and the world portrayed as an apocalyptic desert, the reader can begin to understand why Moon Knight feels the way he does. People like to say that there’s a fine line between genius and insanity. If it means I can have all of this creative fuel for when I want to write a psychological fantasy story, then I don’t mind the insanity at all. I’d rather be crazy and wild than sedated and boring. The mental hospital represents all of the boring conformity the world has to offer. I wouldn’t mind watching that place burn to the ground in a future volume of Moon Knight. Creativity and artistic thinking are what make this world work. That’s why STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) should also include A (arts) to make it STEAM. So many statements in only a 124-page graphic novel.


Superhero fanatics will enjoy the action and fantasy elements of this beautifully crafted graphic novel. Psychology enthusiasts will also get a kick out of this despite their oozing hatred for the mental hospital staff. This isn’t just a nonstop ass-kicking rollercoaster; this is something to think long and hard about. I wouldn’t mind seeing this graphic novel as part of a college’s English curriculum. Lord knows there will be plenty of discussions surrounding that. A passing grade will go to this awesome piece of superhero fiction. A stunning debut for the Moon Knight franchise!

Saturday, April 29, 2017

I Apologize

VERSE 1
Assassins live by a code of silence
Leave no trace of forensic science
Leave behind a trail of violence
Escape the sounds of police sirens
Weapon of choice isn’t a knife or gun
Motive isn’t the thrill of the hunt
Vicarious visions the camera caught
All I did was sit back and watch

CHORUS
I apologize for not being your savior
I apologize for being your traitor
All I had to do was speak my mind
But another innocent got left behind

VERSE 2
You’re all grown up and standing tall
You just can’t wait for your next brawl
Lashing out at everyone in sight
Someone’s going to the hospital tonight
It’s too late to recapture innocence
It’s too late to close the distance
It’s too late to give you your love
You fought like a hawk, slew all the doves

CHORUS
I apologize for not being your savior
I apologize for being your traitor
All I had to do was speak my mind
But another innocent got left behind

VERSE 3
If I could, I’d hug you tightly forever
Tell you it’s okay and never say never
Tell you I’m sorry for shutting my mouth
I’m sorry for taking the easy way out
You won’t forgive me for my deadly sins
You threw my apology in the garbage bin
I can’t blame you for even a short second
Silence is an assassin’s favorite weapon

EXTENDED CHORUS
I apologize for not being your savior
I apologize for being your traitor
All I had to do was speak my mind
But another innocent got left behind
I apologize for leaving you for dead
I apologize for the trauma in your head
I apologize for the monster you’ve become
The pain is now yours to sooth and numb

FINAL LINE

I’m sorry…

Friday, April 28, 2017

Seaside Vacation

***SEASIDE VACATION***

From May 3rd to the 5th (Wednesday through Friday), I’m headed out to Seaside, Oregon for a vacation with my parents. I’ve been to this city three different times and it never loses its beauty. Dog friendliness, fun beaches, lovely weather, good food, and lots to do; that’s Seaside in a nutshell. During these three days of rest and relaxation, there will be no creative output from me other than reading my book and maybe some photography (which I won’t upload until after I get home). However, since the WSS contests begin every Wednesday with a new prompt, I’ll only be gone until Friday, so that means I have Saturday to recover and Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday to pump out the next chapter of Demon Axe. Keep your fingers crossed that I get to do some writing before the next contest. There will be another vacation I’ll tell you guys about two weeks from the Seaside one, so look forward to that blog entry in the near future. I may be gone, but I’ll always come back and chitchat with my awesome audience. I may even do some of that when I’m using the hotel computer or an internet cafĂ©. See you later, alligators!


***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 22***

The novel’s almost over, folks. Just this chapter and an epilogue are all I have left. I don’t want to give away too much of chapter 22 because I ended chapter 21 on a cliffhanger. Roger Zee sees something out in the distance that keeps him from slashing the hell out of our main heroes. If you’ve figured out what this is, then congratulations to you. If you haven’t, enjoy the surprise. Hopefully it won’t translate to a Deus Ex Machina surprise.


***WRESTLING JOKE OF THE DAY***


If John Cena and Nikki Bella ever decide to have a child together and it’s a daughter, they probably shouldn’t name her Tina. Nothing says “Gooker Award Winner” like a grown woman named Tina Cena.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Demon Axe, Chapter 21

Arthur Triscloud stared at Raven and Shawn with intense neon fury, his sword gripped tightly by his side, his other hand stretched out like a monster’s claw. His daughter and her cop friend held their ground with their own weapons in hand, though they secretly hoped they wouldn’t need them in this unnecessary battle of family bloodlines. The elf princess and the cop nodded at each other and made a mad scramble towards the once noble king.

Arthur held them back with quick and technical swings of his sword, but Raven swung back even harder in an attempt to knock the weapon out of her father’s hands. Shawn tried circling around his opponent, but he was met with wild slashes as well, which he barely dodged. The only thing Mr. Triscloud managed to hit was a piece of Shawn’s black T-shirt. A conservative amount of blood trickled down, but the hardnosed detective brushed it off all the same.

Raven tried to enter her father’s range with more aggressive swings of her blade, but her weapon was chopped in two by the king’s mighty sword. The zombie-like warrior held his blade against his daughter’s throat with her hands high in the air. Shawn ran in from behind and bear hugged Arthur around the middle of his arms.

“Get the crown! Get it off his head!” shouted Shawn, who was being tossed from side to side by Arthur’s thrashing. Raven rushed up to her father with her chopped up blade in hand in an attempt to pry the thorns loose. After one lethal spin from the monstrous king, both of his assailants were chucked through the air and down the steep hill. The two of them lost their weapons along the violent roll down, which left them with bumps and cuts everywhere. They didn’t stop rolling until they were halfway down the hill, where the animal skeletons halted their momentum.

The two fighters felt sore enough to barely move after such a rough tumble. Shawn slowly reached for his shotgun, his lack of speed the result of not wanting to aggravate his injuries. He had his fingers on the barrel when Arthur appeared out of nowhere and stomped on Shawn’s hand, creating a cluster-fuck of popping sounds and getting a painful cry out of the detective’s voice.

Arthur picked up the shotgun and aimed it at the fallen cop, still with his foot on Shawn’s hand. A resounding pump-action later and Raven yelled, “Stop! Stop it, Father!” The king looked at her with deadly hatred in his eyes, but she stood firm with a human arm bone in hand. “That look you’re giving me doesn’t mean shit right now! Roger Zee is out there somewhere and you’re just halting progress!”

“Progress? Progress?!” bellowed Arthur in his demonic voice. “Master Roger hates that word. It’s a word associated with fruity values. It’s a word associated with reverse discrimination. It’s a word associated with disdain for traditional beliefs. Come to think of it, I hate that word just as much as he does!”

Raven raised her bone club and threatened in a low voice, “If you hurt my friend, I swear to god, I’m going to…”

“You’re in no position to be making threats, my dear daughter!” shouted Arthur. “I am the king around here and Roger is going to be my successor! If you take another step closer, I’m going to blow this faggot’s head clean right off his shoulders! Your friend knows exactly what kind of danger he’s in. Look at him shivering like a little bitch!”

Shawn had had enough of being talked down to by a guy who was clearly brainwashed by a torture device. He wanted to restore the dignity of the Paulson City Police Department to its former glory. He wanted to be the hero that he couldn’t be to his wife and daughter. With clenched teeth and trembling muscles, Shawn whispered, “Go fuck yourself, you demagogue piece of shit!”

With one jerk of his hand, Shawn pulled King Triscloud off his feet and caused the shotgun to fire a round into the sky. Raven used this opportunity to run up to her fallen father and perform a body splash on his torso. Both Raven and Shawn pinned the corrupted politician to the ground while the former lodged the bone club into the base of the thorns. The more she pried, the louder Arthur’s screams became. Thrash around with newfound strength he might, he still couldn’t get all of that weight off of his chest and legs.

Arthur managed to free one of his legs and kick Shawn in the face hard enough to break his nose. With nobody to hold his legs and the detective grunting in hardcore pain, the king’s leg thrashing gave him more power to toss around Raven while he was on his back. And then the sound of wood snapping echoed across the Holy Mountains. As Arthur laid still and bellowed in agony, Raven jammed the bone club in further and pried even more pieces out of his head until the crown was completely broken.

With a bloody ring around his skull, Arthur’s demonic eyes slowly began losing their glow. Raven stood back with Shawn as her father made the transformation from brainwashed zombie to regal king once more. His eyes dimmed some more and he tossed and turned until he ran out of energy and passed out. His body was as limp as lifeless as any corpse found on the mountainside. For the longest few seconds, he didn’t move a muscle.

With Shawn still holding his broken nose, he and Raven approached the elven king for fear that they might have inadvertently killed him. “Come on, Dad! Breathe! Breath, goddamn it!” roared Raven with tears in her eyes. Her father still didn’t move and even more tears poured down her cheeks while Shawn used his free hand to comfort her shoulder. Another death in Roger’s long and torturous campaign of slaughter.

And just as the sun rose over the mountainside, Arthur’s fingers twitched slightly. His eyes slowly opened. He stretched out as if he had taken a long nap. Raven and Shawn pulled him up in a seated position and then the elven princess hugged her king with all the tightness and tears she could muster.

“Raven, I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused you, my dear. I never would have dreamed of doing this to my own flesh and blood,” said Arthur in his warm and loving elderly voice. The father and daughter duo hugged it out for the longest time while Shawn stood up and watched with a smile on his face despite blood pouring down his lips. Arthur then broke the embrace and asked, “Where’s Daniel? Did Roger take him?”

“He pulled Daniel underground once the battle began,” explained Shawn. “Where the hell’s my shotgun; I want to blow this cocksucker’s head off!”

“Did you say you were looking for a cocksucker?” asked Roger, who appeared out of nowhere with a sick grin on his hideous face, his machete in one hand, and Daniel’s microphone in the other. Shawn, Raven, and Arthur gazed at the zealot with horrified eyes as he reached down and pulled Daniel out of the ground by his hair like a vegetable. “Your cocksucker is right here.”

Though still alive and breathing, Daniel was curled up in the fetal position with his shorts and underwear around his ankles and white and red fluids coming out of his mouth and anus. The once intense heavy metal singer was reduced to a thumb-sucking mess who rocked back and forth and held his broken ribs like a mother cradling a child.

While Shawn and Arthur’s eyes grew even bigger and more horrified than before, Raven had a new reason for tears to pour from her eyes like waterfalls. “What have you done to him, you monster!” she shouted at Roger before rushing up to cradle Daniel’s traumatized head in her arms.

“Nothing you wouldn’t have done on your honeymoon, sweetheart,” said Roger in a cold tone. Raven could do nothing but sob for her sodomized boyfriend and rock him back and forth like the baby he felt like being. Even Shawn and Arthur had tears in their own eyes after watching such an evil display of control.

Roger lifted his machete over his shoulders and said nonchalantly, “Well, I had my fun for the day. Should I just kill all four of you now or should I wait until your so-called friends get here, my liege? Heh, some friends they are. What kind of people leave their bestie high and dry like this? Reminds me of someone I know, someone who’s weapon of choice was the almighty Demon Axe. But hey, Daniel, don’t worry about a thing; I’m sure your old band mates forgive you, right? I bet those two blowhard wrestlers forgive you too, considering they come from an industry that just bathes in friendship and love.”

Daniel didn’t respond to these slanderous accusations. He just curled up and allowed Raven to mother him during his moment of psychological numbness and infinite terror. Right or wrong, Roger Zee made more sense to him than anybody telling him it wasn’t his fault. It was always his fault. Anybody who said differently was a bigger liar than any politician on TV.

The sun continued to peak over the horizon, but none of the four heroes felt like fun in the sun. They could do nothing but stand there and watch Roger laugh like a psychotic hyena. They could have just as easily picked a fight with the guy, but what power did they really have? They were just four guys and Roger was the ultimate fighting machine with a penchant for rape and “fun”.


By the time the sun flooded the clouds with intense color, Roger’s laughter mysteriously came to an end as he saw something in the distance. He didn’t know what it was, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like it.

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Mauro Ranallo

***MAURO RANALLO***

In the 35 years The Wrestling Observer Newsletter has been giving out annual awards, WWE been the recipient of Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic a record 19 times. In 2017 amidst the mistreatment of Smackdown announcer Mauro Ranallo, WWE could be shooting for lucky number twenty. Since this is an issue that involves both bullying and mental illness, it’s a story that’s close to my heart as I have experienced both in my younger days. Even people who don’t watch professional wrestling can relate to Mauro’s story in at least one or two ways.

Mauro Ranallo has been the lead announcer for WWE Smackdown since January of 2016. Week after week, he’s done a phenomenal job with his puns, encyclopedic knowledge, undying energy, and overall intelligence. It’s because of these factors that he has won The Wrestling Observer Newsletter’s award for Best Television Announcer for two years in a row (2015 for his work in Japanese wrestling and 2016 for his work in WWE). If he wanted to, he could rack up a huge winning streak for that award until the end of time itself.

Unfortunately, Mr. Ranallo is also bipolar. It’s a condition he’s had since he was 19 years old. The trigger that set him off was the death of his best friend in 1989 due to a heart attack. Mauro has never attempted suicide before, but he’s had suicidal thoughts. Ever since managing to cope with his disorder, he’s been an outspoken supporter of the mentally ill community and wishes to end the negative stigma surrounding it. As someone with autism and schizophrenia, I look up to this guy every time he speaks on the subject of mental illness. The fact that he can work as hard as he does while still holding bipolarity at bay speaks volumes.

With this much talent and humanity under his belt, you would think that WWE would want to protect this guy as much as possible. But instead, fellow Smackdown announcer John “Bradshaw” Layfield uses the show Bring It to the Table to belittle Ranallo for celebrating his winning of the Best Television Announcer award on Twitter. It should also be known that John Layfield won the Worst Television Announcer award in 2014 and 2015, and with good reason. Layfield has also reportedly picked on Ranallo backstage multiple times and triggered his bipolar disorder to where he wants to quit WWE.

The hashtag #FireJBL has been circulating around the internet ever since this story made it into mainstream media coverage. While firing him would be an easy solution, JBL is just a small part of a much bigger problem within WWE’s corporate culture. Pro-wrestling is a business where the guys on top try to test the toughness of the guys down below on a frequent basis and bullying is the way they do it.

JBL has been accused of grabbing people’s asses, stealing passports, throwing luggage of other wrestlers out on the curb, screaming at them until they cried, stuff like that. His behavior is encouraged by people like Vince McMahon (CEO), Triple H (Vince’s son-in-law), and Stephanie McMahon (Vince’s daughter). Even if the older guard dies of natural causes, there will still be other people in the company who condone this kind of behavior on a daily basis as a way of “weeding out the weak”.

But seriously, what purpose does all of this harassing behavior have other than satisfying sadistic urges? If you really wanted to test the toughness of someone in WWE, pay attention to their body of work. Can they take bumps effectively? Can they endure the grind of world travel? Can they train hard enough to perfect their crafts? I believe WWE wrestlers are self-motivated enough to do these things that they don’t have to be bullied in order to prove it. In my opinion, the upper management bullying has nothing to do with testing toughness and has everything to do with being a dick. Tough or weak, nobody wants to be treated like that. Nobody at all.

Another example of backstage misconduct comes from Bill DeMott, an NXT trainer who back in 2015 resigned from the company when he was being accused of bullying his trainees. He would make them perform dangerous drills, he would make bigoted slurs at them, he’d sexually harass them, and there are even stories of him pulling a gun on his students. Again, this awful human being resigned from WWE; he wasn’t fired. Maybe if there’s enough pressure put on the company, JBL will leave on his own too. It’s farfetched, but there’s no sense in feeling hopeless just yet.

My only wish is that Mauro Ranallo can find peace in his life outside of WWE. Bipolar disorder is no joke and it’s even worse when the person is being bullied or harassed in the way he has. Mental illness dilutes your defenses when it comes to taking in trauma or other negative events. It’s not a matter of not being tough. It’s just the way mental illness works.

Mauro, if you’re reading this somewhere out there, I wish you a speedy recovery from your recent bout of depression. I’m sad to see you leave the WWE, but I’m also happy that you can get away from that troglodyte JBL and everybody who condones his evil behavior. You’re easily my pick for Best Television Announcer in 2017 and every year beyond that.

And as for you, JBL, enjoy your Most Disgusting Promotional Tactic award when you eventually get it. Let’s see you mock that on Bring It to the Table.


***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 21***

Speaking of bullies and douche-bags, I bet you all have been waiting patiently for something god-awful to happen to Roger Zee. You’d be right for wanting that. Ever since the beginning of Demon Axe, he slew countless people, tortured his worst enemies, brainwashed the weak-minded, and did it all in the name of anachronistic values. I appreciate your patience throughout this reading adventure, but you’ll have to keep waiting. Chapter 21 will be dedicated to Raven and Shawn doing battle with King Triscloud, though ever so reluctantly since he has a mind-controlling crown of thorns wrapped around his head. Instead of trying to kill him, they’re going to try to hold him down and pry the crown free. Good luck, you two!


***COMEDIC QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“What kind of a name for a gun nut is Wayne La Pierre? Doesn’t that sound kind of fruity to you? “Hi, I’m Wayne and I’m a gun person. Bang, bang!” You know what this asshole’s name ought to be? Biff Webster. Spud Crowley. A man’s name: Chuck Steak.

-George Carlin-


***POST-SCRIPT***


Laughter is the best medicine and the same is true for recovering from mental illness triggers. Remember that, folks.

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Demon Axe, Chapter 20

“The Holy Mountains? Are you fucking serious? That’s what Roger Zee calls these big ass piles of dirt and stone? Holy shit!” said Daniel Mercer with a scowl on his face and his arms folded while never letting go of his trustworthy microphone. Shawn Henry had his shotgun locked and loaded while Raven Triscloud had her blade within firm grasp. These were three badasses who were ready to do battle. Even though they had reached their final destination, they wondered what was taking so long for the battle to begin.

Raven explained, “The Holy Mountains as Roger called them were secret places where The Order of the Spider would torture prisoners. I guess he’s feeling nostalgic by bringing my father back here…if he is here at all. The Holy Mountains would be my first guess.”

“It’s almost as if he wants us to find him,” suggested Shawn. “Arrogant little punk. We’ll see how full of himself he is when I put one between his fucking eyes.”

“Just tread carefully, both of you,” warned Raven. “There’s a reason he chose this pile of rocks and dirt as Daniel so eloquently put it. We could we walking right into a trap for all we know. Then again, fighting Roger is a trap in and of itself. Trust me, I know.”

“I’ll take my chances with the Holy-Pile-of-Dog-Shit,” said Daniel. “Let’s get moving.”

The three renegades trekked slowly and carefully up the hillside, the steep angle putting a dull strain on their leg muscles. No traps so far, just piles of bones scattered across the hill whether they belonged to a human, elf, or animal. The stench of this place wasn’t any more pleasant. If a meat truck had crashed into a sewage treatment plant, that’s what the Holy Mountains would have smelled like with all of the dead carcasses lying around. All three warriors kept their noses in their shirts until they reached the top of the hill.

“That’s him! That’s my father!” exclaimed Raven. The three adventurers rushed over to his fallen body and checked to see if the old man was still alive. They all saw the same thing: a crown of thorns around his head and a neon glow in his eyeballs. They slowly edged away from Arthur Triscloud’s body, fearing the absolute worst scenario they could.

The old man rose to his feet like a zombie thirsting for a second life. His smile was contorted, his beard was covered in dirt and worms, his flesh was vein-covered and rotting. He spoke to his opponents in a low growl reminiscent of a demonic tiger. “Master Roger wants death…and I shall give him death!” The brainwashed Arthur unleashed a creepy laugh that only an insane asylum full of psychopaths could utter.

Raven didn’t even try to reason with her father; it would have been useless. Instead, she and Detective Henry stood their ground with battle born looks on their faces and their weapons ready. She said, “Daniel, you know exactly what to do to someone with a crown of thorns.”

“I’m on it, sugar tits,” said Daniel, who cleared his throat of all the snot and bile that the dusty air brought up within him. His mouth was centimeters away from the mouthpiece of the microphone. He was primed and ready to shout every heavy metal lyric he could muster into this deadly piece of musical equipment.

And then while everyone was too focused on Arthur Triscloud’s zombie form, two powerful hands grabbed Daniel around the ankles and dragged him roughly beneath the ground, causing him to drop his microphone in the process. While Raven was shouting for her boyfriend and reaching out her hand, Daniel’s body scraped across the jagged bones and rocks of the underground cavern.

Once he hit the ground, Daniel groaned and wrapped his arms around himself in agonizing pain. He was shrouded in darkness, but only until a familiar being lit a torch on the wall with the most hellish fire. With his retinas burning beneath the flames, the Lord of the Pit could barely make out the features of Roger Zee, same ugly face, same blood soaked uniform, same horrifying machete.

Daniel ignored the wicked smile Roger gave him and instead tried to reach over to retrieve his fallen microphone, to which the elf zealot stepped on his wrist and ground his boot into the fragile bone. Daniel shrieked in pain as he tried to rip his hand away from the heartless soldier.

Roger took his boot off voluntarily and grabbed Daniel by his shirt to hoist him off the ground. The zealot then slammed the heavy metal singer back first against the rocky wall multiple times before holding him in place by his jaw, which emitted quick and painful breaths.

“I bet you’re wondering why we called ourselves the Order of the Spider. Trap door references aside, it’s because we evoke fear in the hearts of everyone who crosses us. I can smell it coming off you for miles, my friend. It smells like a bucket of greasy fried chicken!” Roger emphasized that last word with another slam against the wall. “I bet you taste just like fried chicken too. You have every right in the world to be scared of me, Daniel. I’m going to have some fun with you, buddy. I could just as easily kill your ass right now with my lovely blade. But where’s the excitement in that? Huh?!”

“You know why you’re not killing me right now?” said Daniel through fast and raspy breaths. “Because you’re a fucking coward! Terrorists like you always are! You think you’re hot shit because you killed a crowd full of people, but you’re not different from the high school senior who took my lunch money on a regular basis! You’re a coward, Roger! A chicken shit coward!”

Roger slammed Daniel against the wall yet again and earned another painful cry from the Lord of the Pit. The elf leaned in closer and said, “Right, I’m the coward here. I’m the one shaking in my boots ready to piss myself at a moment’s notice. You sure do have your facts straight, don’t you, buddy.” Daniel hocked up a bloody wad of spit and launched it into Roger’s face, to which the elf smiled even more evilly and slammed Daniel against the wall multiple times. Every pound against the singer’s back was met with a tearful cry of brutal pain. He might have even heard a few pops here and there.

Roger continued to grin at his victim when he asked, “Do you like videogames, Daniel? Believe it or not, I liked them too when I was young. They give me some nice creative fuel. Society likes to blame youth violence on videogames and they’re only halfway right. The other half of it…it comes from within. Let’s see if you remember which videogame this comes from. Tiger Knee!”

The elf terrorist buried his rock-hard knee into Daniel’s ribs, cracking them like glass and forcing the singer to scream through coughed up blood. “Tiger Uppercut!” yelled Roger as he buried his clenched fist right into the other side of Daniel’s ribs, shattering them like china plates and getting even more blood to waterfall from the singer’s mouth.

The singer dropped to the ground and crawled like a snail across gravel toward his microphone, to which Roger just folded his arms and smiled some more. He even said, “What are you waiting for, Mr. Mercer? Isn’t that microphone supposed to be the answer to all of your problems? Didn’t King Triscloud give that to you specifically for slaying me?”

Daniel finally made it to the microphone, but not without scraping his chest across the bone-covered ground and developing rashes along the way. He grabbed a hold of the wall and gingerly pulled himself up, every ounce of effort sending a cataclysm of agony through his chest. Even standing upright felt like he swallowed the spiked ball on a morning star.

Roger mockingly held his ear up close to the singer and waved his fingers back and forth like a conductor. “Go ahead, Daniel. Serenade me with your sweet sound. I’m dying to hear that beautiful voices of yours.”

Daniel brought the mouthpiece to his lips and breathed heavily before trying to let out a death metal scream. One decibel of sound and the singer was on the ground clutching his broken ribs and screaming like hell (though the screaming actually made his pain worse). That was the elf and human kingdoms’ last hope in a crumbled heap on the ground looking as pathetic as a dead body.

Roger chuckled at his fallen foe and said, “Well, I’m sorry to hear that your pipes don’t work anymore. It’s kind of hard to have a career in heavy metal music when your ribs are all busted up like that. But don’t worry, Daniel. You still have other parts of your body that are functioning perfectly well. The question now becomes, which one functions better: your pretty little mouth or your sweet little anus?” The question was punctuated with the sound of Roger’s pants zipper coming undone. “Like I told you, I intend to have some fun with you, buddy. I’m going to have the best kind of fun there is. It’s the oldest profession in history and it’s going to be your new career. Open wide!”


“NO!!” shouted Daniel in a prolonged cry that further grinded his ribs like coffee beans.