Brett Markoff, Father of the Year from "My Favorite Magazine"

 

My Child

VERSE 1

If I allowed you to be born in this world

Your hate for me would come full circle

I’d give you the genes, the mental disease

You would murder yourself to be set free

Ripping the stitches after life-saving surgery

Someone stole your soul, an act of burglary

A never-ending cycle of psychological torture

Another week to live is what the doctor orders

VERSE 2

If I allowed you to be born on this earth

You’d be considered a criminal by virtue of birth

Bullied by the worst kinds of scum in school

Fired by the bosses with their autocratic rule

Beaten by the cowards in the dingiest prison

Until darkness becomes your only true vision

I couldn’t put you through any of that shit

Another reason to never have my own kid

BRIDGE

My child, my son, my daughter, my young

Punished for the crime of not holding your tongue

Punished for the crime of not breaking down

Punished for wanting to drown out the sounds

Of the voices telling you you’re not good enough

That surviving this world is for the macho and tough

I can’t raise you in an environment such as this

Time to say goodnight with a forehead kiss

VERSE 3

My only children have fur on their bodies

My only children bark for a piece of salami

My only children meow for a can of tuna fish

My only children drink from a paw print dish

My only children don’t need to go to college

To pay off their debts by emptying their wallets

To answer to the police for doing nothing wrong

Just listen to this purr baby’s mechanical song

Exile

“Sing a song, Night Wolf, sing a song, mommy’s boy!” sang Maria Kevin in an off-key voice while she strummed her guitar. Sure enough, the spirit wolf glowing with blue energy howled at the full moon like the happy hound dog he was. The ghostly beast was rewarded with chin scratches and ear rubs from her elfish bard mommy. “Good boy, Night Wolf. Good, good puppy boy.”

The two of them sat outside a rickety old church on the grassy field together while the evening’s wind caressed them with cool air. Such was a pleasant evening for rest and relaxation, considering the long journey they had together playing concerts. Maria’s pointy red hat, black halter top, brown shorts, and brown leather boots gave her the appearance of a folk rock goddess. But to Night Wolf, she was still the down-to-earth spirit animal mother he snuggled up to every night.

“A lot of good memories come from this church, Night Wolf,” said Maria in a pleasant whispery voice. “This was where I first learned to play the guitar and sing to my heart’s content. There wasn’t a single elf in our village who didn’t come to this church every time they wanted some spiritual music. It makes me wonder what happened to this place that it got so…empty and depressing.” Those last words were punctuated with a small frown and a slight whimper from Night Wolf. The spirit animal tucked his head on Maria’s lap and earned himself more pettings behind the ears.

And then Night Wolf’s ears perked up as he lifted his head and barked rapidly at something going on in the church. “What is it, boy? What’s going on?” Maria asked. Night Wolf blitzed inside the church barking and howling while the elf bard struggled to keep up. The inside of the church looked as dilapidated and depressing as the outside. Stained glass windows were shattered, wooden beams splintered and peeled, the carpeted floor was soaked in animal urine and rainwater, and the roof had a hole through it big enough to fit a family of bears through.

Maria’s frowning sorrow intensified when she saw Night Wolf scraping at the basement door and howling in a pathetic, childish dog voice. She didn’t like to see him in such misery, but the purple energy glow behind the door was too much to ignore. The bard trotted down the stairs to the basement door and slowly opened it after backing Night Wolf away with her slender arm.

The source of the purple glow was a mere mortal human with an aura around his pale-skinned body. With dark robes to contrast his disturbingly white skin, he pointed his fingers and shot purple lighting into what appeared to be a bubbling cauldron of some kind. Maria’s eyes widened as the mysterious liquid boiled and splashed while Night Wolf crouched on the floor and whimpered again. The elf covered her ears while the spirit dog yelped after a gunshot-like blast erupted from the cauldron and gray smoke filled the air.

“Damn it!” the elderly wizard yelled. “This is ridiculous! How many times do I have to…” The old man turned around to reveal his baldheaded, wrinkly face to his new intruders and it became clear to Maria Kevin who this man really was. “What are you doing down here, my child? I haven’t seen that face in such a long time. You’re all grown up.”

“Reverend Dominick…how long have you been dwelling in this basement?” asked a dumbfounded Maria.

“Please, call me Stigma. And as far as your question goes…I’ve been down here for much too long,” sighed the priest as he sat down on a wooden stool holding his head in his hands. “What am I going to do, Miss Kevin? I’ve tried so hard to concoct this spell, but nothing seems to work. I can’t find the answers I’m looking for. I’m just…I’m a wreck, my dear.”

Night Wolf trotted over to Stigma Dominick whining and pouting. “I know, my fluffy friend,” said the priest. “Nothing about this is fair.” He treated the large animal to a scratch behind the ears and a back rub, to which Night Wolf panted and smiled with his tongue hanging out.

“You can’t keep torturing yourself like this, Stigma,” said Maria. “You have to let go eventually. Your father’s death wasn’t your fault and never will be. Time heals all wounds, but time isn’t going to be kind to your father if you go through with this necromancy. You’re already older than he was when the accident occurred.”

“I know, Maria, trust me, I know,” said Stigma as he languidly continued petting Night Wolf. “It’s just that…I never got to say goodbye to him. I never told him I was sorry. In my family, showing feelings was never allowed. I’ve kept it all on the inside for…for…” He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears poured from the old man’s eyes while Night Wolf whined and licked his salty face. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

Maria placed a tender hand on Stigma’s shoulder and said, “You don’t need to apologize to me. But if you really wanted to make things up to me, you’ll leave this…lab behind and learn to live your life again.”

Night Wolf rested his head on Stigma’s lap while the necromancer said, “I wish it was that easy, Miss Kevin. But if I leave this church and venture back into the city, they’ll have me locked up in an even more disgusting place than this broken down church. They blame me for everything, Maria, and I tend to agree with them.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” said Maria while stroking the reverend’s shoulders. “You never really bothered to ask their opinions, did you? Do you know for sure that they believe it’s an accident?”

Stigma swatted Maria’s arm away and snapped, “I don’t know, Miss Kevin, do you think I should take a poll? Do you think it’s as easy as waltzing back to the village after all of these years? Time never healed my wounds and it won’t heal theirs either! My father was a trusted leader in our community! People loved him and came to him for help! Who are they going to turn to now that it’s over?! They won’t let bygones by bygones, Maria. They’ll have my head on a silver platter!”

Stigma’s diatribe caused Night Wolf to yelp and back up a few paces before laying down and covering his face with his paws. Maria’s fists balled up and her face contorted into stern anger. “If you really feel guilty about what you’ve supposedly done, then you’ll take whatever punishment comes your way. Running away and trying to bring your dad back from the dead isn’t going to help one bit. For all you know, this spell you’re trying to concoct could bring him back as a zombie abomination. I’m sure that’ll look great in the family album!”

The necromancer grabbed Maria tightly by the shoulders and, with Night Wolf barking in the background, screamed, “And what exactly am I running away from?! Huh?! I’d rather be stuck down here for another twenty years than in some shit hole where the guards talk like they’re the fucking overseer! At least here I can find some closure! If your idea of closure is rotting in a cell with judgmental assholes watching over me, then you can take your morals and go to hell!” Stigma threw Maria to the floor and put minor dents in her guitar. Night Wolf rushed over and licked his master’s face before the necromancer shouted, “Get out! Leave me to my research!”

With one hand in her tear-stained face and the other holding the guitar, Maria stood up and ran up the basement steps with Night Wolf whining and chasing after her. The two of them bolted out of the church before the elf bard tripped on a rock and spent the next few minutes crying on her knees. Night Wolf licked the saltiness from her face while the bard wrapped her arms around her spirit animal. “This isn’t over, Stigma. ...This isn’t over by a long shot!” she shouted.

She gazed angrily into Night Wolf’s eyes and whispered, “Get him, boy. Sick ‘em!” The dog barked fiercely and stormed back into the church while Maria stood up and waited outside. She wiped the tears from her eyes while listening to Night Wolf snarl and chew at human flesh.

“Ouch! What the hell are you doing, you stupid dog?! Leave me alone! Stop it!” shouted Stigma from inside the church. Maria yanked the strings from her guitar and waited with her arms folded. Sure enough, Stigma came running and yelping outside with Night Wolf hot on his tail. His robes were ripped and his skin was pierced, but he was otherwise okay.

Maria caught Stigma in a headlock and wrestled him to the ground before switching behind and tying the necromancer’s hands with the busted guitar strings. “Shut up!” she snapped. The harsh tone immediately put an end to Stigma’s whining and yelping. “You’re coming with me to the village whether you want to or not! Enough of this guilty garbage! Instead of saying sorry to your dear old daddy, you’re going to say it to people who won’t end up like fucking zombies! Come on, on your feet!”

The elf bard headlocked Stigma once again and dragged him to his feet before hauling him off to the village. The necromancer pleaded and protested, but Night Wolf nipped his heels every time the whining got too intense. Maria also squeezed harder.

The trek to the village wasn’t long enough to warrant exhaustion from anybody in this group of three, although when Maria released the headlock and cut the guitar strings, Stigma clutched his chest and panted due to how hard the elf squeezed. His eyes bulged out of their sockets when he realized where he was. This forest village was complete with stone houses, tree houses, and many, many elven warriors. The fruit was more abundant than Stigma remembered it. The vegetables looked delicious enough to garner a drooling response. Would it be the last time he was privileged to eat such beautiful food?

It seemed to be that way when a group of leather-armored elves carrying poleaxes approached him with stern looks on their faces. The warriors, Maria, and Night Wolf all circled him with greedy, judgmental eyes. The captain of this squadron said in a flat tone, “How could you, Reverend? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Stigma Dominick huddled into himself and shook with nervousness. “I’m sorry…I really am…”

“You should be sorry,” said the elf captain. “You should be sorry for torturing yourself for so long.” Stigma lifted his head with a surprised look on his face. “We’ve missed you, dear friend. I’m sure you’ve missed being in the sunlight. Look at you, you’re a mess! We don’t blame you for what happened to your father. We blame you for abandoning us in our time of need. But now you’re safe with us again, necromancer.”

Stigma’s eyes were drowning in tears once again as the circle of elves closed in on him and gave him a much-needed group hug. Night Wolf pawed at his leg and howled at the full moon. Maria Kevin stroked Stigma’s bald scalp and said, “You’re great at giving sermons, but you’re terrible at listening.”

“I’m sorry, Maria. I’m sorry for everything…”

You Don't Deserve Me

CHORUS

You don’t deserve me

You’ll only desert me

You don’t deserve me

You’ll only hurt me

VERSE 1

Just because you’ve got the prettiest face

Doesn’t mean you’re getting my kiss’s taste

Just because you’ve got a million dollars

Doesn’t mean I even have to bother

Just because you’ve got a siren’s charm

Doesn’t mean you won’t do me harm

I see right through your tempting ways

I stare through you with a venomous gaze

EXTENDED CHORUS

You don’t deserve me

You’ll only desert me

You don’t deserve me

You’ll only hurt me

You don’t deserve me

You’ll only burn me

Find another juicy prey

Get the fuck so far away

VERSE 2

Make up a rumor about my sexuality

Make up a promise of your sensuality

Feeding on emotions like a parasite

Promising an empty fucking paradise

If all you wore was a bra and thong

I’d still think all of your ideas are wrong

I’d still have a reason to pen this song

I’d still have it in me to say, “Not for long!”

EXTENDED CHORUS 2

You don’t deserve me

You’ll only desert me

You don’t deserve me

You’ll only hurt me

You’ll never have me

Don’t even ask me

Find another source of love

Find another source of snuff

VERSE 3

I’m waiting for somebody who cares

Not for a witch with wicked stares

Not just a game of truth or dare

I know the way I’m being isn’t fair

You know what you’ve always wanted

Your own stud muffin to be flaunted

And all I want is a million bucks

Sometimes you don’t get what you lust

CHORUS X2

You don’t deserve me

You’ll only desert me

You don’t deserve me

You’ll only hurt me

Rescuing Animals

***RESCUING ANIMALS***

As a creative writer, artist, and photographer, I see artistic merit in a lot of things. Rescuing animals and giving them loving homes isn’t just the right thing to do, but it’s one of those things I see creative input in. In this case, your canvas is a homeless animal with a rough past who needs someone to love. Love is your paintbrush and everything else is color. The name that you give the animal, the way you play with it, the times you snuggle together, these are all ways in which you add to your beautiful picture. We like seeing animals rolling on their backs, playing happily, and purring like motors, thus we have a picture we love.

That’s why I decided to start donating money to the ASPCA once again. The work they do for homeless and abused animals is phenomenal. Same thing goes for places like The Humane Society and Animal Rescue Friends. With their critter canvases, they’re expressing love and friendship to the world around them. Give a big round of applause for these awesome people.

Back in December, Mom and I kept accessing the Kitsap Humane Society’s website to check on the adoption status of a Pitbull-Terrier mix named Dad. We visited the shelter earlier and saw that he needed a home. He had been living at the shelter for months after being surrendered by a homeless woman who couldn’t afford to take care of him anymore. Every day the volunteers at the KHS took Dad for walks, rides, and cups of Puppicciono (whipped cream from Starbucks for the puppies to lick).

They did everything they could to keep him happy, but he needed a home for the holidays. Mom and I would have loved to take him, but his profile said that he didn’t get along with small children or other animals. He had to be the only one. With such strict standards, Dad was naturally hard to adopt. And then a few days after Christmas, Dad was adopted by an ex-soldier who probably needed a dog to ease the symptoms of his PTSD. The soldier even posted pictures of Dad playing around in his new yard and generally being a big ol’ happy pup.

Even if you can’t afford to adopt an animal, there are still ways in which you can make these beautiful creatures happy until the day they do find a home. Donating money is the most common way, but you can also donate things like blankets, stuffed animals, leashes, and doggy beds. You think a big ol’ puppy-duppy would love rolling around in a fuzzy blanket while cuddling with a brown teddy bear? You bet he would!

In addition to donating money every month to the ASPCA, I also plan on donating my stuffed animal collection to the Kitsap Humane Society. Don’t get me wrong, I love cute toys, but cuddling with a stuffed Michigan Frog doesn’t compare to snuggling with the real thing, by that I mean my elderly brown kitty Smokey. Before the stuffed toys get donated, though, they have to be vacuumed off because of all the dust they’ve accumulated. We can’t have puppy-duppies chewing on dust.

Remember that gum commercial that says, “Give extra, get extra”? It applies to a lot of aspects in life, including giving extra love to an animal in need. When you give a dog or a cat a loving home (even if it’s not your own), the joy you receive is worth so much more than any paycheck. For all of you fellow “Secret” readers out there, you’ll attract positive things to your direction and life will be happy for as long as you keep that love in your heart. Whether or not you want to use the universe analogy, it is true that being a positive and loving person will yield those same results to you.

I’d like to close this off with a thank you to all of the organizations and pet owners out there who make animals’ lives a living heaven. By giving them love, you are artists in your own way by painting their canvases with happy colors. I know I sound like Bob Ross when I say that, but it’s no less true. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to give some pettings to my Smokey-Pokey, who’s resting comfortably on my pillow. Adios, amigos! Thanks for reading!

***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 12***

With the story past the halfway mark, Daniel and his friends find themselves sitting in a holding cell wondering what the hell went wrong. Inciting terrorism? Shouldn’t the cops try to track down Roger Zee, the real terrorist asshole? But surely you guys didn’t forget about what happened to Shawn Henry that fateful night in the police station. Roger’s locus of control goes much deeper than one family man detective. He’s got the entire system by the balls and he’s going to flex that muscle with Daniel and his friends.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Speaking of Demon Axe, the next character on the DFW chopping block is King Arthur Triscloud, ruler of the elven race. Human takeover or not, all he wants is a peaceful society, but he can’t have that as long as Roger Zee is running roughshod over both the elven and human worlds. For the actual picture, I was thinking something along the lines of a modified Gandalf with a crown.

***MOVIE REVIEWS***

It’s been a while since I’ve done a movie review, so how about we do two of them, both Disney classics? In this case, we’ve got “Ben and Me” and “The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh”, both of which feature the unmistakable voice of Sterling Holloway as Amos Mouse and Pooh Bear respectively. I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to give them passing or extra credit grades. They were after all a huge part of my childhood. Huge!

***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***

Wednesday is always the day that starts off the new contests. In this case, we’ve got one with a “Thriller” prompt. Whoever came up with that one was probably listening to Michael Jackson’s music at the time. That’s perfect, because I’ve got the ideal story for that prompt. It’s called “Staple Gun Gangster” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Marco Said, Staple Gun Gangster
2. Kip Kyle, The Boogeyman

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Marco makes a joke about how The Boogeyman looks like he came from Michael Jackson’s music video for “Thriller”, which makes Kip’s penchant for children even creepier.

SYNOPSIS: Marco earned a scary reputation on the streets by using a staple gun as his weapon of torture for those who are late on their loan shark payments. A serial killer masquerading as a swamp monster named Kip Kyle a.k.a. the Boogeyman approaches Marco because he wants money for underage prostitutes. Marco decides that this “swamp creature” is too sick even for his tastes and shoots a few staples into him. When the staples arouse Kip instead of hurt him, Marco anxiously questions whether the Boogeyman moniker is just a gimmick or if he really is a horror movie monster.

FUN FACT: Marco Said is loosely based on former ECW wrestler New Jack, a psychotic gangster who used a staple gun to win hardcore wrestling matches.

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Tell me now, who taught you how to hate? ‘Cause it isn’t in your blood. Not a part of what you’re made. So let this be understood: somebody taught you how to hate. When you live this way, you become dead to everyone.”

-Disturbed singing “Who Taught You How to Hate?”-

Baby and Floyd

Baby and Floyd didn’t always have dark roots. In the early to mid 2000’s when I still visited my father in Vaughn on a weekly basis, those were the names of two of the most hyper, yet sweetest puppies to ever play with my dad and step-mother Charlie’s dog Daisy. Granted, I was the only one over in Vaughn who thought Baby and Floyd were darling, Baby being a golden retriever and Floyd being a rottie. Those two neighborhood dogs would drive Charlie nuts, especially after they tore up the yard and pissed on her pants. To this day, whenever I say “Who loves Floyd and Baby?”, Charlie says, “Nobody!” That was all some time ago. I don’t even know of those two dogs are alive today. If they are, they’re getting old.

Maybe the literary incarnation of Baby and Floyd are both representative of the sadness that comes with pets growing old and eventually dying. As far as my characters go, Baby and Floyd are not cute puppy-duppies. They are dark. They are deadly. They are cannibalistic. Piss them off and they’ll have you for supper. Think of them as the baldheaded puppets in Final Fantasy IV on steroids. The puppets in that game are creepy enough as it is, but they were so easy to kill. If you start hearing the Calcobrena theme playing while Baby and Floyd are in the same room as you, you’d better have toilet paper handy.

Baby has a pit bull mentality as WWE commentator Michael Cole likes to say about Daniel Bryan. Well, any true animal lover would know pit bulls are only mean if assholes abuse them. But let’s say for a moment that Michael Cole isn’t blowing a whole bunch of smoke. What would that mean for Baby, the little baldheaded cannibal puppet? It means if you leave your leg out, he will attach himself to it and chew until either his belly is full or your blood is drained. Guess which one will happen first.

Floyd is an entirely different animal. Yes, he’s just as cruel and evil as his much smaller counterpart, but he doesn’t normally use his teeth to get the job done. He has a sword for that kind of deal. If you need a reference point to follow, picture the big fucking sword Cloud Strife has in Final Fantasy VII and give it the ability to throw fire bombs upon unsuspecting enemies. Did I also mention Floyd is damned near seven feet tall? Does a guy the size of Frankenstein really need a sword that can cause so much destruction? Of course he does, because there are times when Baby prefers to have his meal of human flesh properly cooked.

This would normally be the part in the blog entry where I try to find employment for the character or characters in question. However, upon further inspection of my notes on Fireball Nightmare Act 3: Peace of Mind, there are two spots conveniently open for villainous characters. Well, now. Who should get those two spots? Which pair is evil enough to align themselves with a vampire wizard named Rhys Black, a child molester named Donald Park, and a brutal luchador named El Comegente? I know! How about John Bush and George Kerry? I’m just teasing you, of course those two spots are going to Floyd and Baby. Have fun, you two, but don’t have too much fun!

　

***PARODY WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“The following contest is a First Blood match for the WWE Divas Championship!”

-Justin Roberts-