Masticators of the Universe

“Eat well, my pretties. Dinner is on me,” said Lara Spider with a grin as her tarantulas munched on potato chips like wild dogs. She could understand the trepidation of the fellow customers around her in the Brew Pub that night. Grown men inching away from her. Grown women twisting their faces in disgust. To be honest, the solitude was alright with her. If it meant no sloppy jowled, beer breathed man was going to hit on her in public, so be it. She even kissed one of her tarantulas and said, “I love you all so dearly.”

Lara didn’t even feel bad about her appearance that evening, nor should she ever have to be. A pretty pink dress made from the finest layers of silk, high heeled shoes that she slid her bare feet in and out of, and flowing chocolate colored hair that looked as delicious as the actual dessert. But once those spiders crawled around her table, she felt safe enough to be bare naked if she wanted to be, which she didn’t. “Looks like it’s just us tonight,” she said with a dainty smile.

The tarantulas scurried and sprawled into her dress once everyone the sounds of vomit-like coughing and snot gurgling erupted over the pub. “Oh no, not him again,” whispered Lara. Such wishful thinking never came to light. Bursting through the front door smelling like blood-flavored whiskey and pus-scented perfume was Tor Vemola, the bastard son of the once prominent celebrity family, the Vemola Dynasty. His blond hair covered in sewage, his blue skin ripped and shredded, his clothes disheveled and moldy, if he wasn’t royalty, he could have easily passed as a bum on the streets. “At least the bums need the money more than he does,” Lara thought to herself.

Those disgusted sentiments echoed among the pub customers, each of them backing away and holding napkins over their mouths and noises, making just as sickening noises as Tor did before skulking in the establishment. “Bunch of fucking drama queens! Har-har-har!” snorted Tor before gagging on his own snot yet again.

The young barmaid slowly approached him and struggled to get her words out as her lips trembled. “Um…what can I…get you…today?”

“I want two big fat breasts!” bellowed Tor, which caused everyone’s eyes to shoot up in horror.

“Um…pardon me?” squeaked the barmaid.

“You heard me! I said I want two big fat chicken breasts! I’m an American, I can eat big fat breasts if I want!”

“Oh, uh…hehe…chicken breasts, of course…we actually have some coming out of the oven right now…let me go check on them.”

Before she could leave, Tor grabbed her by the wrist and burst out, “Wait a minute! Aren’t you going to ask what I want to drink?”

“Uh…I think you’ve had enough to drink already, Mr. Vemola.” The zombie-like creature growled at her before she said, “You know what? Here, have some beer. Heh…” She poured him a pitcher of golden ale as fast as she could before hurrying to check on the status of the chicken breasts…or look for an exit, either one.

Tor took a long liquidly snort of the beer and Lara’s insides grumbled like a machine as she held her hand to her mouth. She could feel her dinner rising to the surface when the creature guzzled his beer and made throat noises like a double bass drum solo. Within seconds, the beverage was swimming and sloshing in his gut loudly enough for everyone to hear. Some patrons got up and left, making throaty noises of their own. Not Lara. She sat at her table and watched this piggish man with cruel intentions.

The barmaid hurried to the counter with a plate full of chicken legs as big as telephone poles. She giggled nervously and said, “Enjoy your meal…Mister…Vemola…” He tried to grab her wrist to ask for something else, but she hurried out the door screaming in sheer terror.

“Wonder what that bitch’s problem is,” barked Tor, much to Lara’s cringing disgust. If she thought she was in an unappetizing mood before, she finally had the misfortune of listening to Tor chomping away at fried chicken and smacking his lips together as hard as he humanly could.

Lara believed the next time she opened her mouth would be the last time anything of substance stayed in her stomach. But she had to say something, if not for the other customers than for her own sanity. A few lip smacks later, she said, “Please! For god’s sake! Chew with your mouth closed!”

“It’s a free country, you feminoonoo. I can eat however I want!” Another alligator bite, another long minute of his lips and tongue smacking together like crash cymbals. And another bite. And another. And another. For somebody who could finish a beer within seconds, he sure loved to take his time eating a plate of fried chicken.

The bile rising in her neck, Lara mustered up the strength to say one more time, “Chew with your mouth closed…or else!”

Tor turned around in his stool with a green-toothed grin and said, “What are you going to do, report me to the Social Justice Police? Maybe you’ll want to make a citizens arrest or some shit like that. Why don’t you come on over and…slap some cuffs on me!” The last sentence was punctuated with a swirl of his pig slop tongue.

Lara couldn’t keep it together any longer. Her stomach pounded and throbbed. Her blood and sweat ran colder than her sweet iced tea. She leaned over and puked all over the ground, losing what could have been an enjoyable meal had it not been for Tor Vemola and his gross eating habits. She puked again. And again. And again, until her mouth tasted like battery acid.

“Hey, sweet patooties! Barf with your mouth closed! You’re triggering me and offending my sensitive areas!” mocked Tor before hee-hawing and slapping his bloody knee.

“You think that’s sick? You haven’t seen a damn thing yet!” growled Lara as she extended her long sleeve and unleashed her tarantula magic upon the “patriotic” zombie. The little creepers scurried and tap-danced across the wooden floor, yet Tor’s facial expression amounted to a simple “meh”.

“Is this hocus pocus shit supposed to scare me?!” he bellowed before scooping handfuls of arachnids and eating them like candy, venom oozing from his already sloppy sewer hole. There must have been a whole army of little buggers and Tor just devoured the whole lot of them….all while smacking his lips and clicking his tongue for extra effect.

Lara could only drop to her knees and stain her dress with what was once a delicious meal. She quivered, “No…no…not my babies…not my beautiful babies…”

Tor’s expression softened, but Lara didn’t want to believe it behind her damp eyes. “Now, now, darling,” said the burping zombie. “If it’s a baby you want, I can give you that. I believe we should all be making babies, including a pretty little thing like you. It’s all part of the master plan.”

As he slowly approached her while squishing spider corpses beneath his boot, Lara crab walked away from him until she was trapped in the corner of the restaurant with nowhere to go. This man was so disgusting that the place had completely emptied out on account of nobody wanting to be around a man who ate like that. “What am I doing here,” Lara muttered to herself. “I need to get out of here…what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, sweetheart. In fact, I love you just the way you are. If you’ve got anymore of them spiders handy, I’d love to have them chicken fried. I bet you’re a goddess in the kitchen! Actually, probably not since you came to a restaurant tonight instead of staying home.”

Tor pulled his jorts down and revealed something resembling a burned sausage with warts and pus protruding everywhere, maybe even a mushroom sprouting in the forest of greasy hair. Lara covered her eyes and squealed, but the zombie paid no mind to her fear and advanced forward. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s do this for the man upstairs. Let’s make some babies!”

Lara slowly removed her hands from her eyes and took one last look at the diseased organ. A shy smile crept upon her face as she crawled over to have a better look. On her knees with a bigger smile than before, she said, “You’re right…let’s make babies…You heard him, Pepper!”

“Huh? Pepper?”

In one fluid motion, Lara grabbed Tor’s peter and ripped open one of his pus-filled wounds before inserting her last tarantula. The zombie screamed and danced as the little bastard crawled inside his flesh, chewing, digging, burrowing, injecting poison like an inoculation for the social disease, laying eggs for “the man upstairs”.

“You sick prick!” shouted Tor as he dug inside his wound to try to get the tarantula out of his system. Lara’s grin turned mischievous as poison rotted her foe inside out. Poison sprayed from every open wound in his body. Goop sloshed on the floor like a wading pool. It looked as though he was going to drop dead at any moment. And then…

“I’m just messing with you,” laughed Tor, much to the wide-eyed horror of his victim. “What? You actually thought that little shit kicker was going to do me in? I’ve got more diseases than a chemical weapons factory. There ain’t nothing you can give me that’s any grosser than what I’ve already got!”

Knowing her spider magic could only take her so far, Lara shot up to her feet and bolted for the door, only to be tackled to the ground by a powerful force. “No! Get off me!” she shouted, secretly wishing Tor would just get this over with. But oddly enough, the sloppy odor was replaced with a French perfume smell. The barmaid! With one shotgun blast, Lara screamed her head off yet again as blood, pus, and sewage sprayed the inside of the restaurant. A resounding thump on the ground signaled the end of this would-be rape struggle.

Lara felt a gentle hand pat her on the back while saying, “It’s okay…it’s okay…you can get up now. He’s gone.” The barmaid helped her to her feet and the two of them surveyed the damage to this once lovely restaurant: vomit, blood, gonorrhea goblins, god knows what else.

The barmaid lowered the shotgun and tearfully said, “The board of health is going to kill me for this…if not them…then that damn Vemola family. Bunch of do-nothing celebrities think they own everything. Famous for being famous and rich enough to sue our asses off…what have I done?”

Lara hugged the barmaid and said, “I’ll bet you anything those other Vemola jerks aren’t as diseased as their bastard son was. I’ll bet they’re just a bunch of posh snobs.”

“So what? That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, but I think it does…” Lara broke her embrace and smiled at the barmaid. “If they can’t handle their own bastard son…what makes you think they’re going to be able to handle a little…arachnomancy?!” Lara punctuated her sentence with a wink. “They can take us to court all the want. They can bend the legal system to their wills. But they wouldn’t last five seconds on a giant spider web without having a heart attack. Trust me, babe, there’s more where that came from!”

Favorite Book Memories

***BEFORE I BEGIN***

I hope everybody had a wonderful Christmas this year, filled with family togetherness and of course, plenty of sweet ass presents (can’t forget those, hehe!). One of the things I got this year is shower gel that looks like a blood bag. I wonder what I’ll look like after I scrub myself with it. I’ll probably look like I just came back from a violent mosh pit. Oh dear. Hehe!

***FAVORITE BOOK MEMORIES***

Of course, the key to celebrating a holiday successfully is gratefulness for everything and everyone you have. And thus we have the topic for today’s blog, my five favorite book memories. This was originally done in a You Tube video by fellow author Jenna Moreci and I figured it was a good idea for me to do a list myself. Five doesn’t have to be the definitive number, but it’s one that works for both me and Jenna Moreci. If any of you, my lovely readers, want to do this, you’re more than welcome to. I’m actually curious to see what you guys put down as your favorite book memories. This can be anything from reading a book to writing one to buying one to…anything, really. Without flapping my gums any further, here are my top five in no particular order:

1. Reading “The Cleaner” by Brett Battles and becoming a full-time reader because of it. Stephen King said it best when he claimed if you don’t have the time to read, you don’t have the time nor the skills to write. I didn’t start taking this advice seriously until mid-2009 when I only had one more college class to take before I graduated. I certainly wouldn’t have become a born-again reader with the novels and memoirs my teachers had me read in college. While some of them were good and therefore worth rereading, most of them bored me to tears and made me regret taking those classes. I know college is supposed to be more about education than entertainment, but come on, seriously? When I read Brett Battles’ spy novel “The Cleaner”, I learned how much fun reading really can be. It was a fast paced book that spared me from the feeling of dragging my eyes across concrete. And thus began a long legacy of awesome reading and hopefully awesome writing on my part to go with it. I say hopefully with a lot of emphasis.
2. Joining the WSS. I know this sounds like I’m sucking up, but trust me, it isn’t. Sucking up implies that you don’t mean what you say. When I say that joining the WSS was one of the five best book-related things to happen to me, I say it with every fiber of my being. This Good Reads group holds weekly short story and poetry contests with no special prizes, just a friendly victory. Even more important than getting a victory is getting helpful advice from your peers, who in this case are empathetic and wise when it comes to their critiques. They taught me so much over the years and motivated me to turn the first installment of American Darkness into something that wasn’t cow shit. I’m still a zealous member of the WSS today and will be until the end of forever.
3. Befriending Marie Krepps. Just like the WSS, Marie, my beautiful beta reader and critique partner, has shown me the light when it comes to pumping out readable works of art. Her own published books and short stories are always delightful to read, so she knows what she’s talking about. She has a wicked sense of humor when she critiques my work, thus making the process as painless as possible. Unfortunately, she currently has a lot going on in her life that keeps her from doing what she wants to do, but even so, I’m grateful for every piece of advice and every review she’s given me over the years. I hope she can get things sorted out soon, because there are times when I miss having my Babe-a-Licious Mondo around. I call her that because of the Bubblicious Mondo chewing gum commercials of the mid-1990’s. She loves it. Hehe!
4. Reading “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by Stephen Chbosky. Never before has a book ripped my heart to shreds and glued it back together again like this simply-written piece of young adult literature. A la Charlie, I know what it’s like to sit on the sidelines and love my favorite women from afar. We’re both introverts who don’t want to screw things up by putting ourselves out there. We both need our Sams and Patricks to bring us out into the light. While Charlie got to have the social experiences he wanted, I remain in the darkness. I am both frustrated and heartbroken when I see things through the eyes of Charlie. Thanks, Stephen Chbosky, for bringing me closer to tears than I’ve ever been.
5. Writing the Poison Tongue Tales story “Sitka the Nose Biter”. On the surface, this seems like just another fantasy story lost in the shuffle of much bigger projects. But Sitka the Nose Biter has sentimental value to me. The main character, Sitka, is a real life cat I adopted back in 2013. Her gray puffy fur and diva-like face reminded me of a witch or a cookie monster. Apparently, the people at Cat of the Day dot com had the same cute opinion of her and wanted to feature her on the homepage of their site. Because of Sitka’s celebrity status, an old WSS friend named Nicky encouraged me to write a children’s short story based on the little sweetie pie. And thus began the rolling snowball of stories based on pets I have and Cat/Dog of the Day nominations for those same animals. Another sentimental part of this story is that it was written two weeks after I wrote a short story called “Tainted Love” that angered a lot of my readers for being sexist. I felt extreme sadness over the course of those two weeks, but perked right up when everyone ooed and ahed over my lovable Sitka girl.

So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen: my five favorite book memories over the course of my career, which actually began in 2009 since that’s when I started taking reading seriously. All of the movie scripts and videogame synopses I wrote before that don’t count since I was flying blind the entire time. Plus, looking back at those old pieces of writing, I’m secretly proud of how far I’ve come since then. As a bookmark I had in fourth grade once told me, “Readers are leaders!” It’s a cheesy slogan that my dad beat to death on a regular basis, but it’s no less true. Reading is an educational and imagination-provoking experience that everybody should have. The key is finding what you like and not being discouraged by what bores you. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***AMERICAN DARKNESS 3***

And now that we’re on the topic of old writing, here’s a synopsis I wrote back in 2013, which is painfully obvious based on how fucking short it really is. It’s for a story called “Don’t Tell Me Who to Love” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1.      Rich Lucas, College President

2.      Keith Hamlet, Math Professor

3.      Vikki Peters, Keith’s Student Affair

PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.

SYNOPSIS: Rich calls Keith into his office for a possible termination due to the latter’s affair with Vikki. Keith gives his boss false answer after false answer until he can’t stand it anymore and tells him, “Don’t tell me who to love!”

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Because my current list of truly unique American Darkness 3 characters is depleting fast, I’ve added nearly the entire roster of what will be called Poison Tongue Tales 3 to the list. While the next character won’t be from that series, she will be from a novel I’ve been hesitant to write due to its mature content rating and possible offensiveness. She’s Tina Ryan, a sultry guitarist from Puberty X Piracy. Wish me luck!

***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

REINA: Chew with your mouth closed!

ME: I’m an American! I can eat however I want! I’m more American than Hulk Hogan!

REINA: Mouth closed!

ME: You’re infringing on my American rights!

REINA: You’re infringing on my ears!