Unwanted Relationship Advice, Pt. 1 (Happy Valentine's Day!)

 

Dark Marriage

“Nice night for a black wedding, don’t you agree?” grinned Kain Venomtongue as he gently caressed Sheryl Sweet’s ball-gagged face with the back of his fingers. The frigid wind brushed its way across the top of the ziggurat and lifted Sheryl’s wedding dress a few inches. With her wrists and ankles bound to a horizontal metal cross, the dress would be the only thing flying free that night. Standing on either side of the temple stairs was a chorus of anthropomorphic cobras reciting hymns and flicking their tongues. The groom-to-be looked every bit as serpentine as his brethren with his monstrous face and green scaly flesh, most of which was covered by a dark sorcerer’s robe.

Sheryl Sweet struggled in her bindings and let out a few “Mmph’s” through her gag, but not even a barbarian’s strength could unseal her fate. The bride’s wide eyes and hysteria remained a stark contrast to Kain’s villainous smile as the necromancer pulled a jagged blade from his robes and recited hymns alongside the snake men. “Ashes to ashes,” he chanted. “Dust to dust. We are forever bound by Satan’s flames. Not even God nor his angels shall interfere with this dark marriage. Those who dare ascend the staircase invite the stench of death itself. If any mere mortal wishes to object to this sacred tradition, speak now or forever hold your tongue!”

As if on cue, a sharp steel presence descended from the night sky and slashed one of the snake men in half vertically, sending a storm of blood across the staircase and prompting Sheryl Sweet to scream like a mad woman possessed. “What the hell is this?!” Kain shouted, to which a blur of surgical steel whirred across the staircase, shredding, eviscerating, and disemboweling any snake monk in its path. Slithering screams echoed across the starlit night as the bloody rain continued to descend down the ziggurat. Pieces of flesh were carried away by the evening breeze. Organs sloshed and splashed until the satanic structure resembled a slaughterhouse. Every cobra minion lay in pieces with those fortunate enough to be alive regretting their decision to live.

Sheryl gazed in wide-eyed horror at the violence before her. Her ghostly shrieks were reduced to sobbing whimpers. Kain brushed her face with his fingertips and whispered, “Don’t worry, my love. This ceremony shall continue one way or another.” His promise to the bride was sealed with a delicate kiss on her sweaty forehead. He even licked one of her tears away, but once that was gone, more came flooding down her face.

The “tender” moment was interrupted by the sounds of a bird warrior pantomiming vomiting. The owner of the tainted blade knelt at the top of the staircase to further his act before breathing heavily and wiping his mouth off with his feathered arm. The bird man rose to his feet and revealed himself to be wearing red and blue ninja gear, which complimented his golden (albeit bloody) feathers.

“Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more nauseated, you go and pull that shit,” barked the bird man while accusingly pointing his blade at Kain. “There ain’t going to be no black wedding or dark marriage or whatever the fuck this is called. I’m Ronan Crow and it’s my job to bring the woman back home where she belongs. So unless you want to get force fucked with three feet of steel, I believe now is the time to remove her bindings. And for fuck’s sake, take that disgusting gag out of her mouth!”

Kain Venomtongue took a deep swallow, held his hands up defensively, and pleaded, “I think you’re making a big mistake, my friend.”

“No!” Ronan belted. “You made the mistake of bringing this bitch out here and trying to marry her! Look at her, she’s fucking terrified! It’s men like you that make me afraid to have daughters of my own! Come on, Miss Sweet, you’re coming back home to the king.” With Kain backing up several feet, Ronan approached the metal cross and slashed the bindings off in quick fashion.

Sheryl stood up and removed her ball gag before shaking her head at Ronan and shoving him lightly. “Are you fucking insane?!”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” said a silver-tongued Ronan. “Now hurry up and get on my back before Kain Slobbertongue over here takes three more Viagra and makes a move on you again.”

Sheryl slapped the bird warrior across the face and said, “You’re an idiot! You’re a goddamn idiot! This whole black wedding was my idea!”

“You’re kidding me…” said Ronan with wide eyes.

“No, I’m not!” shouted Sheryl while stomping her foot. “When you bring me back to my father’s castle, what do you think is going to happen? He’s just going to marry me off to some loser so that he can have more land and more riches for himself! I chose Kain over here because he’s a true gentleman! He’s fun! He’s adventurous! And kinky as hell! I mean, look at him!”

“Yeah, I’m looking at him alright. He’s definitely a catch. I don’t know how anybody could pass up a handsome stud like that,” said Ronan, oozing with sarcasm and shaking his sword at the necromancer.

“Oh, this?” asked Kain nervously. “This isn’t my real face. It’s just makeup.” He wiped away his scaly face and skin with the sleeve of his robe to reveal a youthful elf underneath with flowing black hair, golden piercings, and a soul patch underneath his chin. “And just so you know, those snakes you killed weren’t really snakes at all. Those were my friends. They too were wearing makeup and costumes. The black wedding theme was mostly their idea. And Sheryl’s too since she’s really into bondage.” Sheryl giggled and blushed at that last comment.

“Well, if you miss your wonderful fucking friends that much, why don’t you bring them back to life or some shit like that. You’re a necromancer. Do something!” yelled Ronan.

“Congratulations, bird brain,” said Sheryl while pointing a finger in Ronan’s face. “You proved once again that you have the IQ of an orange peel. Kain isn’t a necromancer, dummy. He’s a neck romancer. See? There’s a difference.” She brushed back her raven hair to reveal a hickey on the side of her neck.

Ronan roared like a lion before shoving his sword into the floor and belting, “Enough! Enough of this bullshit! The two of you make me fucking sick to my stomach! Why in the hell would anybody think hickeys and ball gags and crucifixions are sexy?! What woman on the face of this earth actually gets wet to something like that?! What grown man would ever get a hard-on to it?! This is some fucked up repugnant shit right here! I ought to kill both of you right now and spare the king the disappointment in having a bratty daughter!”

“Listen to me, you dumb shit!” shouted Sheryl as she pointed a finger in his chest.

“Back off, bitch!” barked Ronan while swatting her down on the floor with his feathery arm. Kain tried to rush him, but the bird warrior pulled out his sword and held him at distance. The “neck romancer” could smell the vile stench of blood radiating off of that horrible weapon. “You are a sick little turd, Kain Venomtongue. You’re a pervert and you’re probably a pedophile too! Maybe you shouldn’t take Sheryl home with you anyways! I’m pretty sure she’s too old for you!”

Kain dropped to his knees and recited a Satanic prayer before Ronan tapped his head with the flat end of his blade and said, “Oh no, buddy! None of that hocus pocus shit is going to save you now! You’re dead, you filthy creepy! You’re goddamn dead!”

Kain tucked his head further into his chest ready for death to come take him away. He could hear the sword wooshing around in the air and it made his heart beat faster and his blood run cold. His forehead sweated profusely, but he continued to pray to his demonic god. The close the blade came to touching his face, the louder his prayers. With one last “amen”, the sword was ready to come down on his neck.

The woosh of steel slashing was replaced with a heavy thud followed by avian feet shuffling about. Kain lifted his head up and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Ronan Crow, with a lump on his head, rolling and tripping down the ziggurat stairs. Bones cracked, feathers flew, and squawks created a symphony of cacophony across the empty sky. These satisfyingly violent sounds went on for as long as the stairs would allow them to. And then there was silence; complete deathly silence, save for one final squawk until Ronan came face to face with Satan himself.

Kain grinned at the sight of his lover holding her ball gag like a pair of brass knuckles. The feathers and blood pasted to the rubber ball were badges of honor to her and proof she was no damsel in distress. Kain happily leapt to his feet and hugged his bride, though she responded with tears instead of reciprocated happiness.

“He ruined our wedding, Kain. He fucking ruined it,” Sheryl sobbed.

“Forget the wedding, my darling,” slithered Kain. “A wedding is just an event. True love can never be broken apart.” He kissed her forehead and said, “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.” The two of them made out together before Kain said in between kisses, “Darling…you were wonderful tonight!”

We Own the Night

***WE OWN THE NIGHT***

Zombie brain happens to everybody no matter how good they are at hiding it. Sometimes your brain is so exhausted that you don’t feel like doing shit that day. You’ve overworked yourself the previous day, you’re stressed out, you didn’t sleep well, whatever the case may be, you’re not immune. It’s especially frustrating when you’re scrolling for memes on Face Book and see one that says, “You should be writing!” Yes, I understand that it’s meant to be motivating, but sometimes it can feel like a slap in the face to someone having a zombie brain day.

The operative word in that last sentence is “day”. You can go through the whole day snoozing and lazing about, but when the stars and moon light up the night sky, you own that motherfucker. You’ve gotten nothing done during the daytime, but it’s not too late to get shit done in the darkest hours of the night. All you need to tell yourself is…”We own the night!” Whether you’re getting shit done at 10:30, midnight, or 3:00 in the morning, you’re telling your zombie brain to go fuck itself and you’re defying the odds. And then when you wake up the next day, you can do it with a smile knowing the previous night’s darkness brought out the beast within you. You’re an artistic werewolf. You’re a vampire thirsting for the blood of your characters. And it feels soooooo fucking good!

Sometimes when I’m lying awake at night, lyrics for a song idea will come to me. And then the clock strikes two in the morning and I disconnect my oxygen mask to go write those lyrics down. That same night, those lyrics are live on my social media account and I go to bed a happy man. It’s better to lose a few hours of sleep if it means you’ll remember how your story or poem is going to be written. When you wake up in the morning, it could all disappear and the world will never know.

I tell you this personal story not to brag, but to let my audience know that owning the night can be done. If Donald Dumbass can tweet insensitive shit at three in the fucking morning, you can write something better around the same time at night. If you’ve spent the whole day being mentally fried, your energy could potentially come back to you by the time darkness falls. Everybody else in the house is snoozing soundly, so you have no distractions. It’s just you and your limitless imagination. And once you’ve finished, you can drift off into cloudland and have weird ass dreams about being naked in high school…or is that just me?

I hope I don’t sound too much like those Face Book memes that shame people for not writing. If you must tuck yourself in after a long day of zombie brain, you most certainly can do that. If you don’t own the night, you can certainly own the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. And so on and so forth. But there will be some days where you don’t feel like doing a goddamn thing, and that’s okay, because we’re all human beings. Zombie brain is a universal problem no matter how much people brag about being hard workers. Sometimes zombie brain is your mind and body’s way of telling you to slow the fuck down. Even Vin Diesel in the Fast & Furious movies has to know when to slow his driving down. Why do you think there are so goddamn many of those movies to begin with?

Do you own the night or are you a daywalker? Does your current schedule allow you the kind of creativity you want to produce? Always make time for what you dream of doing…even if that time is seven minutes past Zombie O’clock. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***POISON TONGUE TALES 2 & DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

I’m sure you’ve all noticed that I have drawings on my social media accounts of Ronan Crow and Kain Venomtongue. That’s because those two are a major part of my next Poison Tongue Tales 2 story. It’s called “Dark Marriage” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Kain Venomtongue, Elf Warlock
2. Ronan Crow, Bird Swordsman
3. Sheryl Sweet, Human Bride
4. Nameless Snake Minions

PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.

SYNOPSIS: Kain is at the top of his ziggurat getting ready to forcibly marry Sheryl through a necromantic ritual. The Dark Marriage will give Kain authoritative and magical powers since Sheryl is the daughter of a powerful wizard king. Sheryl is bound to a crucifix with a ball gag in her mouth while the snake minions line up on either side of the ziggurat’s stairs. Ronan has been charged with the task of rescuing Sheryl before the ritual is allowed to take place. He has little time to complete his mission and a small army of opponents to battle through.

EXTRA NOTE: Sheryl Sweet is next on the chopping block for the Dark Fantasy Warriors series. I’ve been debating with myself if I want to draw her while she’s strapped to the crucifix. Imagine the kind of reference picture I’d have to search for on Google to get that effect. It would be…weird to say the least. Hehe!

***BORN A CRIME***

I’m sure you guys have also seen reviews on my social media accounts of Kick-Ass 3 and Fang and Claw, two badass books that have earned passing grades. I expect my next reading adventure, Born a Crime by Trevor Noah, to be enjoyable as well. How can you go wrong with Trevor Noah? He’s the host of the Daily Show for a reason: because he’s funny and eye-opening at the same time. Born a Crime is a memoir detailing his childhood in apartheid-era South Africa. The book was originally a Mother’s Day present for my mom and she loved it to pieces. Now she’s given it back to me so that I can have the same educational experience as she did.

***PHONE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

ME: Hello?

MOM: Is this the person to whom I’m speaking?

ME: Who else would it be?

MOM: Good answer, Garrison!

Child Bride

VERSE 1

You cover it up when you forcibly fuck

You go on a search for the nearest church

To get wed and to get inside of her bed

To put traumatic visions inside of her head

CHORUS

Where’s the pride for the child bride?

We all know what you’re trying to hide

You’ll never keep this all on the inside

Justice will be served by those who cried

VERSE 2

Will having nine children be enough for you?

Having a million arguments about nothing new?

She never had a choice, you took her voice

You rave and rant as you take off your pants

EXTENDED CHORUS

Where’s the pride for the child bride?

We all know what you’re trying to hide

You’ll never keep this all on the inside

Justice will be served by those who cried

Where is the pride for the soul that died?

When will we fight for all that is right?

This is entrapment in the worst sense

This is enslavement with the worst sex

VERSE 3

Your secret is out, so you scream and shout

There was never a question or even a doubt

The child bride has spoken her damn mind

All lights on you, they needed to be shined

Stutter and sputter, your shit melts like butter

You piss your pants and do a little dance

You plead guilty and get a hundred years

While the child bride keeps living in fear

EXTENDED CHORUS

Where’s the pride for the child bride?

We all know what you’re trying to hide

You’ll never keep this all on the inside

Justice will be served by those who cried

Where is the pride for the soul that died?

When will we fight for all that is right?

This is entrapment in the worst sense

This is enslavement with the worst sex