Emilio, One Half of the Iconic Duo "Emilio & Marigold"

 

Ozzie the Wise, Dementia-Stricken Wizard from "Rainbow Ranch"

 

Callie the Wildfire, Ozzie's Ex-Lover from "Rainbow Ranch"

 

Jerry "The King" Lawler

 

Rainbow Ranch, Chapter 3

Even though Lucy’s metal armor provided most of her warmth, the chilly air of the mountainside nipped at her skin like a predatory case of fleas, each with meat grinder teeth. She hugged herself for extra heat, but the incoming snowflakes made her shiver nonetheless. In such a short amount of time, one snowflake on her canine nose turned into an entire winter of defeat and agony. Without her war hammer and tennis ball, she might as well have been the most naked being in the entirety of Rainbow Ranch. How was she supposed to fight Loki the Skull now? Barking and clawing could only do so much against a sorcerer who flashed in and out of combat as he pleased. Lucy became jealous of Callie the Wildfire for having any kind of weapon at all, the golden knife in question.

 

“Get a move on, Lucy! Ozzie is vulnerable out here!” roared Callie. Toughness would have been an admirable trait during these times, but all it did was make Lucy’s eyes water, which in turn hardened into icicles that shattered on the ground. It was completely normal coming from Razor Ripley, but Callie was a stranger who appeared unsympathetic to Lucy’s struggles. Then again, Callie had little to worry about wrapped up in the warmest orange fabric. Why burden herself with an annoying Chiweenie’s suffering?

 

The mountainside trek weakened Lucy’s legs to where they were trembling with or without a freezing temperature. She was used to scampering up to any challenge, but such athletics were punished with a painful gut and sour breathing. There were many times when Lucy wanted to just plop over and allow whatever was going to happen to happen. No weapon, no bravery, and no help beyond someone who couldn’t stand her to begin with. This was a losing battle against an opponent with seemingly endless magical energy. Lucy’s head swirled with dizziness and hopelessness. Why not just lay down and prove her abandoners right?

 

“We’re here! And no sign of Loki!” Callie’s grumpy demeanor was masked with a tiny smile, but only for a little while. “Come on, Lucy, let’s move it!” She grabbed the Chiweenie’s trembling paw and dragged her up the mountain, where a comforting orange light shone from a lone cave entrance, flanked by two scarecrows with rotten pumpkin heads. “His place must be a pigsty. I knew he was out of his gourd.”

 

Lucy and Callie scampered past the scarecrows and into the brightly lit cave. Sure enough, this was the home of Ozzie the Wise, whose days of wisdom and intense thought had long abandoned him. Sitting at the table next to a glowing metal stove (the source of the gentle light), the elderly gray and white cat man tenderly ate cold turkey scraps from a plate that had seen better days. Nibble, nibble, nibble, gulp, gulp, gulp, all with teeth that smelled worse than the pumpkins outside.

 

The messiness of this home could give his dental work a run for its money. Torn blankets strewn every which way. A record player that hadn’t been dusted since the days of his youth. A sink full of dirty dishes that would have attracted flies if not for the freezing weather. A bookcase of cracked yellow paper, probably with spells written on them that couldn’t be studied with a forgetful brain. There was even a golden framed picture of Callie and Ozzie as a couple hanging on the wall, albeit at an awkward angle.

 

Ozzie peeked up from his dubious dinner and smiled at Lucy and Callie. “You look familiar.”

 

“Gee, I wonder why that could be,” said Callie with a sharp tongue. “See that picture on the wall? Any clues coming yet?”

 

“Yes…yes…it’s all coming back to me now…” Ozzie stood up and cracked his spine over the back of his chair, causing Lucy to twitch in disgust and Callie to reprimand her for it. The old man cat trudged over to his two guests with Callie looking hopeful that she might be recognized after all of these years. But instead, Ozzie ruffled Lucy’s ears and said, “My granddaughter! My precious little granddaughter.” Lucy looked confused at first, but then chuckled as Ozzie groomed her face over and over again.

 

“For Pete’s sake, Ozzie, it’s me! Callie! Your ex-wife!” protested Callie. Ozzie continued licking Lucy’s cackling face while running his claws through her fur. The tough facade had melted away when Callie sighed and tucked her head in defeat. “He’s forgotten me…Ozzie has forgotten me…”

 

“Oh no, I haven’t,” said Ozzie. “My other granddaughter! You’ve come to visit me after all these years! Come here, you!” He gave Callie tummy scratches, which earned him a swat for his troubles.

 

“I’m not your granddaughter, you old coot! I’m your wife! We shared a house together! We chased balls of yarn together! You used to cook tuna fish every night and it was delicious! Don’t you remember?” Callie’s elderly anger turned to sorrowful word salad as her voice became increasingly jittery.

 

Ozzie placed a tender paw on Callie’s shivering shoulder and said, “Now, now, now…you know I can’t marry my granddaughter. But I’ll be there at your wedding when you’re old enough.”

 

Callie held her face in her paw and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “There’s no hope. He’s gone. He’s all gone.”

 

Now that she’d established some rapport with Ozzie, Lucy suddenly found her confidence again, which was definitely helped by the warm breeze blowing on her from the metal stove. “Mr. Ozzie, I’d love to stay and eat turkey with you, but there’s something we have to warn you about. There’s an evil sorcerer coming up this mountain and he says he wants to hurt you. He’s too powerful for any of us to fight off. The best thing we can do is get you out of here and to a safe place.”

 

“A sorcerer, you say?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Ozzie. He’s someone you used to know, I mean, once knew…” Lucy let out a phew at almost appearing insensitive towards Ozzie’s forgetfulness. “He’s an old rival of yours. You were the one who defeated him in the first place. Now he wants revenge. He’s come back to life in a dog’s body and he wants to…”

 

“Old rival? Hmm…” Ozzie scratched his own chin looking for answers. “Is he another one of my grandchildren? I’d love to play some fetch with him and tell him all about my record collection. These young whippersnappers could use some good music these days.”

 

“He’s gone, Lucy,” said Callie in an uncharacteristically low voice. “He doesn’t remember me or anyone else. All that magic use turned his brain into mush. He’d be better off in retirement care instead of this disheveled cave.”

 

“Wait a minute…” pondered Lucy. “If magic use can turn your brain into mush, then Loki the Skull…”

 

“You just now figured that out?” The fire and spunk was back in Callie’s voice, her knife raised in the air, much to Lucy’s cowering terror.

 

“Put the knife away, you old bat. I’ll finish the job for you.”

 

Lucy, Callie, and Ozzie’s eyes widened at the demonic voice haunting the once warm and cozy cave. The stove’s glow was slowly dying down and the only neon flash that appeared this time came from Loki the Skull’s eyes. Bright red horror enveloped the room, followed by the poisonous green of the sorcerer’s aura. Lucy gulped as hard as she could while hugging Callie for comfort. She tried to push her off, but Lucy was too strong and it was the only strength she would exhibit for a while.

 

But then, Loki waved the war hammer like a pendulum and taunted Lucy. “Looking for this? It’s the perfect tool for smashing, let’s say…tennis balls!” He then pulled out said tennis ball, this time deflated and dirty, no longer fit for an hour of friendly roughhousing.

 

“What are you going to do, Lucy? Are you going to snuggle up and cry like a little cherub? Are you going to howl to the night moon like a lost wolf puppy? Are you going to run back into your mommy’s arms? Oh wait…that last part isn’t an option anymore.” Loki laughed at his own callous joke.

Oswald

I see you everyday sleeping your life away

Losing time again, can’t convince you to stay

Your legs are so weak you can’t stand up

Is this your way of saying you’ve had enough?

I’ll miss you dearly on the day that you pass

I’ll miss your chubby belly, so much mass

I’ll miss you rolling over on your back

I’ll miss you munching on a chicken snack

Miss your precious face, expressions so sweet

Miss your pretty eyes, close them as you sleep

The Rainbow Bridge is waiting for you

Make lots of friends for me, old and new

I hope your life was one worth living

My love for you was well worth giving

One of these days, we’ll cross paths again

Even in death, you’ll be my sweetest friend

Until next time, my Buddha-bellied feline

Until next time, my little oinking swine

Soon you will be free of your elderly pain

You’ll be missed so much, our eyes will rain

Losing fuzzy friends never gets easier

Reincarnate one day into someone beefier

"Little Birds" by Hannah Lee Kidder

BOOK TITLE: Little Birds

AUTHOR: Hannah Lee Kidder

YEAR: 2018

GENRE: Fictional Short Stories

SUBGENRE: Contemporary

GRADE: Pass

In her debut book, Hannah Lee Kidder’s stories are short, sweet, and to the point, but they pack the most powerful punches in their tiny spaces. Even stories that are only a sentence long are capable of tugging at the reader’s heartstrings with oftentimes brutal force. The subjects she touches on include rape, suicide, breakups, and elderly dementia to name a few. These topics aren’t there just to shock the reader; they have a purpose beyond that. You will be so in love with this book that you’ll wish it was longer.

My favorite short story in this book has to be Wolverine Frogs, the one that deals with the always raw subject of rape and the trauma afterwards. The main character wishes she could have claws like a wolverine frog so that she’ll be better equipped to fend off future attackers. She’s so traumatized that she’ll unleash such amphibian fury upon anybody who gets too close to her, innocent or not. This is such a realistic portrayal of psychological trauma that the trigger warning was absolutely necessary. As a reader, you want her to recover even though that’s not always a truthful outcome. You’re genuinely worried that she might do something to hurt herself in order to alleviate the pain. Wolverine Frogs is without a doubt the most heart-wrenching story in this collection.

My second favorite story in this book is Cane Sprouts, which tells the tale of a young New York lady who returns to her grandparents’ trailer near the Bayou. Again, realistic portrayals of the subject matter at hand are what you can expect. In this case, we’re dealing with elderly dementia. The grandpa mixes up names, gets lost in the middle of fields, wanders everywhere with a broken shotgun, and wakes up from naps in an even more confused state than when he’s already awake. This is heartbreaking to watch as this kind of behavior is usually the precursor to death. The main character’s guilt over not being able to see her grandparents as often as she can is palpable during these moments of elderly confusion. That’s what makes the story so believable and raw.

My third favorite story in this book could be considered micro-fiction seeing as how it’s only two to three pages long. But like I said in the intro, sometimes the shortest stories pack the biggest punches. Of course, the story I’m referring to is He Wrote Me a Song, which details the budding friendship between a nameless female high school student and another kid named RJ. She would always loan him pencils and he showed his gratitude by writing a beautiful song for her. Gratitude is a powerful thing, especially to people like RJ who’ve had it rough over the past few years with people looking their noses down at him. The smallest gestures can have the biggest impact. However, before the main characters’ friendship could blossom…well, let’s just say that your waterworks will be well deserved by the time this story is quickly over.

Some would argue that these stories rely too much on shock value to get their points across. I respectfully disagree with that assessment. These stories have a purpose and that is to be as real and honest as possible. The shocking conclusions are just a small part of the overall bigger picture. If someone in your life is hurting, be there for him or her. Show that person that you care and that everything will be okay in the end. You don’t really know what you’ve got until it’s gone. That’s what Little Birds means to me and that’s why it receives a passing grade.

Bitter Old Man

VERSE 1

The good old days are never coming back

So why do you keep going on the attack?

Technophobic rants don’t stand a chance

Nor millennial bashing and budget slashing

The young will inherit this mother earth

No sense in letting your teary eyes burst

Why all the rage over somebody’s age?

Progression is natural, so is worldwide change

CHORUS

Bitter old man! X4

VERSE 2

Fork over the keys to your corporation

Broadcast it on every cable news station

Life is short and nothing lasts forever

Life washes away in this rainy weather

You can’t blame everything on the young

So keep ageist vitriol off of your tongue

Scream any louder and you’ll pop a lung

Your radio hits will forever be unsung

CHORUS

Bitter old man! X4

BRIDGE

We are the rebels, we are the warriors

We shout it down every single corridor

You can’t keep us down however you try

You’ve got shit running down your thigh

VERSE 3

We open our email and eat our kale

Cheer when bankers get put in jail

Save the earth for the very last whale

No mega power is too big to fail

Stereotypes, they’re your only hype

You think we’re easy pickings so ripe

Call us snowflakes, say our news is fake

Little do you know this world is ours to take

CHORUS

Bitter old man! X4

Italian Stallion

Let’s bookend this crazy twenty-eighteen

With the cutest fuzz ball you’ve ever seen

The sweetest old man to walk the earth

The reason for my happiness and rebirth

His name is Emilio, the Italian Stallion

Bouncy like Tigger, sleepy like Valium

His interests include cuddling and snuggling

Whether I’m happy with life or struggling

The year before, three fur babies passed

I never thought it could happen so fast

Maggie the saggy-jowled Springer Spaniel

Watching her die was more than I could handle

Sitka was a kitty called the Queen of Halloween

Now her spiritual essence will forever fly free

Smokey loved to sleep on my comfy bed

Now she permanently rests her fuzzy head

While nobody could replace these beautiful souls

Somebody had to patch up my heart full of holes

Emilio the sweetie pie would come to my aid

Though at first he was timid, lonely, and afraid

It took some pettings and cradles in my arms

No longer would he come into danger or harm

Safe from the streets, cozy under my roof

Love is very real and Emilio is living proof

May he spend his days happy and relaxed

To a homeless life, he’ll never ever go back

Welcome to my home, welcome to my bed

Feel free to rest your fluffy old kitty head

Don't Wake the Baby

VERSE 1

Dreaming of scratches behind her ears

Sleeping on my bed for the rest of her years

Such a sweet little fuzzy lady

Shh! Don’t wake the baby!

VERSE 2

Dreaming of a buffet table of tuna fish

A quart of milk in her favorite dish

Is this reality? Well, just maybe

Shh! Don’t wake the baby!

VERSE 3

Dreaming of gentle warmth from the heater

Drooling like a fountain, her dreams get sweeter

A kitty kiss on the cheek is what she gave me

Shh! Don’t wake the baby!

FINAL VERSE

Waking up to a brand new day

Only to fall asleep again anyways

She needs every hour of beauty rest

Her forever home is truly the best

She gives me the biggest goofy grin

Every time I scratch her under the chin

She purrs like the sweetest kitty lady

Shh! Don’t wake the baby!

Peacemaker

Gerard Killings paced back and forth with his hands tucked in his trench coat pockets. He gazed around at the animal trophies mounted on the wall while shaking his head in disgust. Deer heads, tiger rugs, bear dolls, and fox pelts made this politician’s home feel like an animal graveyard. Protecting Senator Schneider from assassination filled Gerard’s eyes with dollar signs, but his heart with emptiness. He felt no different from a street whore selling her body for cocaine. The mercenary plopped down on the zebra striped couch and ruffled his clean shaven head and face.

He snapped out of his disgusted trance and leapt into business mode when he heard the sound of wood creaking in the next room. Gerard pulled two sais from his trench coat pockets and crept towards the kitchen. When he arrived, he saw that the scene hadn’t been disturbed except by an elderly dog lying on the floor snoozing away. The irony wasn’t lost on Gerard as he shook his head some more while holding the bridge of his nose.

The time to earn his paycheck arrived when Gerard felt a heavy presence crash down from overhead. He dropped his sais and gasped for air as he felt a furry arm wrapped around his neck with a knife pointed into his jugular. A feminine voice whispered, “Don’t even think about it. I’ll slash you from asshole to appetite if you move one inch.”

Gerard didn’t listen. He snatched his assailant’s wrist and chomped down on her arm with the strength of a bear trap. The furry female yelped and back flipped off of her opponent, leaving a smattering of blood across the floor. Gerard used this valuable time to crawl quickly across the floor to retrieve his sais. Before he could lay one finger on them, he felt a knife graze his scalp as it flew into the kitchen cupboard.

The mercenary blinked tightly in pain while pressing a hand to his wound. He opened his eyes just widely enough to see that his assailant was dressed in black ninja gear except for part of her face and arms, which were covered in animal fur (and blood from the bite wound). She angrily whispered, “You’re one dead motherfucker!” before pulling out a katana and lunging towards a seated and prone Gerard. The mercenary moved his head just in time to avoid being decapitated. The fuzzy ninja slashed and lunged some more only to have Gerard tuck and roll out of the way every time.

Mr. Killings, still on his back, kicked the ninja in the head and dazed her long enough for him to wrap both ankles around her neck and flip her over. She crash landed into the kitchen cupboard, but accidentally landed on the sleeping dog. The dog yelped and crawled pathetically across the floor. Both fighters were distracted by the condition of the elderly animal, so much so that the ninja crawled across the floor and petted the little guy. “I’m so sorry,” she gently whispered. “You poor little sweetheart.” The ninja’s petting caused the dog to roll on her back and kick in the air.

“Wait a damn minute here,” said Gerard before he nipped up and ripped the ninja’s mask off to reveal she was a humanoid fox. The ninja gasped and crab-walked backwards, knowing her identity was plain to see. “Why am I not surprised? Misty Blades, anti-hunting activist. You’ve been all over the news talking about using peace and love to advance your cause, yet here you are trying to stick a blade in my fucking neck.”

Misty waved a dismissive paw and scoffed, “Like your politician friend is any better. Have you seen all the animal corpses around his house? And what about you? You’re guarding this place, so you’re every bit as guilty. Now you have to involve a poor little doggy into this.” She petted and kissed the dog some more, much to the little pooch’s smiling delight.

“Do you need help there, Gerard, or can you do it yourself like you were paid to do?” asked Senator Randy Schneider, who stood in the bedroom doorway dressed in a blue bathrobe holding a peacemaker handgun. He had a calm demeanor about him despite finding Misty Blades in his kitchen. “What are you waiting for, Gerard? Must I hold your hand?”

“You’re actually going to listen to this guy?” asked Misty. “I saw you making those faces at the animal trophies. You’re just as disgusted as I am. You could finish this right now if you wanted to.”

Randy sighed, “And how exactly does he plan on doing that, Miss Blades, if that is your real name? I’m the one with the gun and you two are just sitting there with your knives up your asses. That’s the thing about hunting, my friend: you need the best weapons. You think I claimed all of those deer heads with a fucking katana? Hell no. I was smart enough not to bring a knife to a gun fight.”

“Guns are for cowards!” belted Misty. “Killing animals is just as cowardly. Why in the hell would anybody want to support your new bill, Senator? You fucking right-wingers are all the same. You’ll protect an unborn fetus, but you’ll gladly shoot a defenseless creature. Don’t think for a minute that your gun is going to save you now. All the firepower in the world means jack shit without the fighting skills to back them up.”

Randy squeezed off a shot and only managed to tear a piece of fur off of Misty’s cheek before the ninja leapt across the room and held a blade to the politician’s throat. Senator Schneider shook so hard that he could be confused for a Parkinson’s patient. No amount of pathos could wipe the look of white hot, drooling rage from Misty’s vixen face. “Gerard! Help me!” Randy shouted.

“Shut up, you whimpering piece of shit! Stop whining and start listening! When that bill hits the senate floor, that shit is dead on arrival! If it isn’t, then you will be! What do you say/ Senator? Is your life really worth having more animals die in your name?” grimaced Misty.

Little did the ninja know that Randy dropped the peacemaker on the floor and slid it across to Gerard with his foot while shaking in fear. Sure enough, the bodyguard picked it up and cocked it before pointing it at both Misty and Randy.

“Don’t even think about it!” shouted Misty. “You put that thing down or I’ll spill his throat all over the fucking floor! Then maybe I’ll take him down to the taxidermist to get stuffed!”

“Just take the shot, Gerard; she’s going to kill us both anyways!”

“Shut the fuck up! Both of you!” Gerard roared. “I am getting sick and tired of this political bullshit! All I wanted was a paycheck tonight and you two have turned this into a fucking nightmare! Maybe I’ll kill both of you! Or maybe I’ll just kill you, Randy, and leave the fox lady to do her bidding elsewhere! You think I enjoy looking at all of these animal trophies?! They make me sick! In fact, I should probably throw up in that orange face of yours right now! It can’t look any worse than it is now!”

Misty grinned at Gerard’s threat while Randy whimpered a small prayer. This was it. That bill was going to die a nasty horrible death, which could also be said about the pants-pissing Randy Schneider. Gerard seethed with drooling anger like a rabid wolf ready to devour a hunter’s leg. The animal analogy was perfect for the rage bubbling up inside of him. Mother nature was ready to strike with a whirlwind vengeance.

“But then again…as much as I agree with Misty Blades more than anybody else…she doesn’t write my paychecks!” said Gerard before he squeezed off another shot and put a bullet in the fox ninja’s head. Her brains splattered all over the kitchen floor as she fell to her death. The elderly dog crawled over to her and licked her bloody wound like a bowl of puppy chow.

“Dogs are such filthy creatures,” said Randy with a chuckle. “Then again, so was that crazy bitch. You put on a hell of a show, Gerard. You had me going for a minute there. You’ll get that paycheck just like I promised you. Maybe if the bill passes, I’ll throw you an extra bonus so that your cancer-stricken son can go to Disneyland. You only live once, right? Well, I got to get to bed now. You did good tonight, my friend. Oh, and did I mention you’re one hell of an actor?”

“I wasn’t acting at all, Senator. I still think you’re a piece of shit for what you’re doing,” said Gerard as he handed the peacemaker to his boss.

“Correction: I’m a piece of shit who’s going to send your child to Space Mountain before he drifts away to heaven. There’s a difference, you know,” grinned Randy as he accepted the peacemaker and whistled his way back to bed.

“What do you want to do with Misty’s corpse?” asked Gerard.

“I’m sure I can find a nice place for her next to the lion’s head. Goodnight!” said Randy from the bedroom before he flicked off the light and yawned.

Gerard plopped back down on the zebra-striped couch and stared at his blood-covered hands. His whole body felt as though he had just taken a swim in a river of innocent blood. He did it all in the name of his cancerous son’s happiness, but what if he ever found out how he achieved that happiness? Could Gerard keep this secret forever? So many guilty thoughts ran through his mind at a million miles an hour.

A single tear dropped from his eyes and he could do nothing about it but bury his face in his murderous hands. He had no choice, just like anybody voting for Randy Schneider or his opponents. The system owned him. If they wanted him to dress in a turkey suit and dance like a monkey, he would do it if it meant a hefty payday. Maybe he wouldn’t feel nearly as guilty if he sucked dicks for a living. How sad. How relentlessly sad.

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

(A parody of millennials who bash their own generation in the style of “Space Oddity” by David Bowie.)

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

Take your Viagra and put your Depends on

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

Commencing aging, glasses on

Check your prostate, and may grandma be with you

This is Ground Control to Uncle Tom

You’re inciting ageist hate

And the youngsters want to know whose loafers you wear

Now it’s time to leave the comfort of your rocking chair

This is Uncle Tom to Ground Control

I’m slipping on the floor

And I’m dizzy in a most peculiar way

And my head is in the clouds every day

For here

I am eating from a tin can

Disconnected from the world

Millennials are here

You can do nothing, my dear

I’m out of touch by a hundred thousand miles

I’m feeling very ill

And I think my scooter knows which way to go

Tell my grandkids I love them very much

They know

Ground Control to Uncle Tom

Your hearing aid’s dead, there’s something wrong

Can you hear me Uncle Tom?

Can you hear me Uncle Tom?

Can you hear me Uncle Tom?

Can you hear?

I am eating from a tin can

Disconnected from the world

Millennials are here

You can do nothing, my dear

"Hunting Vampires with Grandma" by Ashley Uzzell

BOOK TITLE: Hunting Vampires with Grandma

AUTHOR: Ashley Uzzell

YEAR: 2017

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Vampire Horror

GRADE: Pass

Markie’s evening begins innocently enough when she goes to a nightclub with her friends and mixes it up on the dance floor. She even brings home a handsome stranger named Playboy Paul. But when this sexy gentleman flashes his vampire fangs and lunges after her, Markie knows she screwed up badly by inviting him into her grandma’s home. G saves the day when she plunges knitting needles into the vampire’s heart and dissolves him into a pile of ashes. Markie’s shock continues when she learns her grandma is part of a sorority of vampire hunters which include fellow old ladies Ariel, Claire, and Lavern. The band is back together for one last run and Markie is both excited and frightened to be a part of it.

My favorite part of this short novel is the witty banter back and forth between the four old ladies. They’re sassy, vulgar, and aren’t afraid to keep their youth alive with sexual references here and there. They come off as genuine kick-ass ladies rather than ageist stereotypes. And speaking of kicking ass, despite their old ages, smoking habits, and terrible cardio, they can get the job done when it comes to killing vampires. Nobody’s going to screw with these venerable warriors whether it’s physical combat, a verbal spat, or playing rummy (and possibly cheating). Their minds are sharp after all of these years as evidenced by their careful planning when it comes to vampire hunting. I love the point they made when they said fanny packs are safer to carry around than purses when it comes to combat. Like I said, nobody messes with these chicks. Nobody!

As far as critiques go, I don’t have many of them, but they’re worth pointing out, though they won’t devalue the well-deserved passing grade Ashley Uzzell has earned for this book. I would have liked to see the combat scenes fleshed out a little more since it seemed like the battles were too easily won. Then again, I understand why they were so short: because the old ladies don’t have the cardio they did back in their youth. Shorter battles favor the old ladies and they sure make the most of their time spent. Not every battle has to be a UFC masterpiece of a WWE match of the year candidate, so maybe this particular critique isn’t anything to lose sleep over. I enjoyed the battles while they lasted, though.

The only other critique I have for this story is that I would have liked to see Markie in a more combative role instead of being vampire bait or a damsel in distress. For all intents and purposes, Markie is the main protagonist of the story and I’ve always been a firm believer in the idea of the main hero getting the spoils of victory. But at the same time, I understand why she was relegated to a rookie role. The fact that vampires exist at all is shocking to her, so she’s going into these battles slightly unprepared. She’s not a martial artist in any sense of the word, but maybe she could get away with a surprise attack for the final blow. Even that would build her confidence as she continues her new role as part of the vampire hunting sorority. By the end of the story, though, we don’t have to worry about her confidence at all. She’s all smiles and her newfound happiness is well deserved. She loves her grandma and loves her new old lady friends just as much. They make an awesome team, to say the least!

Despite these microscopic issues I have with the story, Ashley Uzzell knocks it out of the park yet again. She’s a runaway freight train of literary achievements and no amount of chaos in her life is going to stop her momentum. I loved this book so much that I would recommend it to even those who aren’t interested in vampire stories to begin with. Mrs. Uzzell is a woman who transcends genres every time she puts pen to paper. She’ll continue to do that as her nonstop career progresses. Congratulations on scoring another passing grade, Mrs. Uzzell! You don’t just set the bar; you ARE the bar!

"I Laughed, I Cried, I Crapped Myself" by Ashley Uzzell and Anette Suggs

BOOK TITLE: I Laughed, I Cried, I Crapped Myself: Poetry of Life
AUTHORS: Anette Suggs & Ashley Uzzell
YEAR: 2015
GENRE: Poetry
SUBGENRE: Personal
GRADE: Pass


The bond between grandmother and granddaughter has never been clearer than in this book of poetry from both authors. They shared emotions, beliefs, moments, and most importantly, they shared life together. Ms. Anette Suggs will be surely missed, but this book of poetry will keep her memory immortalized until time itself is standing still. No topic is off limits, yet the innocence of it all is maintained throughout this read.

Just like with our favorite music, it’s always nice if the poetry we read is relatable and pretty much every poem in this book speaks to our souls. When you forget who you are and need to be reminded, try “I Am”. When you’ve lost your innocence and your flower is wilting, the poem is actually titled “Innocence”. When you’re fearing for the life of your child because he or she fell on the pavement, you’ve got “Impact”.

And then there’s a poem called “Wasted Emotions”, which is about how romantic couples grow apart over time and its no less heartbreaking when the end is near. “Wasted Emotions” is special to me because Ashley Uzzell posted it in the message board of one of my own Deviant Art poems called “A Love Song to No One”, which harbors the same sorrowful feelings. I’m not sure if her poem was inspired by mine, but whatever the case, I will always clutch it to my heart. There’s something for everyone in this poetry book. All you have to do is read it all the way through, which shouldn’t be hard considering it’s less than 50 pages.

The individual poems themselves, whether written by grandmother or granddaughter, are written with a clear and concise meter that makes reading them out loud or singing them onstage a piece of cake. Not all of them have rhyming verses, but it shouldn’t matter because the poems are enjoyable and rhythmic anyways. There’s a disclaimer in the front of the book that says some of this poetry was written in the mid-1990’s, which means Ashley Uzzell was only a child, yet she writes like someone who has been doing this for a long, long time. To tell you the truth, I wish I had her and her grandmother’s skills when I was starting out writing poetry in 2004.

Anette Suggs passed away and left behind a legacy that will last forever in the hearts and minds of those who got to know her, either personally or literarily. As I write this review, Ashely Uzzell is 30 years old and still has a bright future ahead of her. I have no doubts that those many decades will be used for creating even more beauty than we’ve seen in her poetry book. I’m not saying that as her personal friend; I’m saying it as a lover of literature, which is the real reason this book gets a passing grade.