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

 

Unwanted Relationship Advice, Pt. 2

 

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

 

No Pain, No Reign

“I’ve procrastinated for so long. I’ve wrestled with my conscience. Should I do this tonight? Should I bring this lazy bastard into my home? Should I make him feel my pain? The answer was not just a resounding yes, but a hell fucking yeah!” The grating, raspy voice of the purple-skinned witch Dollhouse awakened Ivan Keith from the shadows of sleep. His head throbbed and pounded like rapid fire boxing blows. The water in his stinging eyes ebbed and flowed. His body weighed down on him like an elephant sitting on his slowly rising chest.

When the Sheriff of Savage Duck County tried to move, the steel bindings in his ankles and wrists cut into him like an executioner’s axe. He laid on an uncomfortable metal table in a T position and struggled some more, but to no avail and only more pain. “Don’t fight it,” warned Dollhouse as she scratched her long, wart-infested nose. The wrinkles in her visage coupled with the shadows brought on by her pointed hat gave her a constant resting bitch face, which only made Ivan’s heart race even further.

“You can’t keep me here forever, old lady,” said Ivan in his southern drawl. “I’m taking you into custody once I get off this here contraption.”

Dollhouse cackled and coughed while slapping her bony knees for extra effect. Quickly reverting back to her resting bitch face, she pointed her elongated finger and sneered, “Nobody’s looking for you, Sheriff Keith. You’ve fucked over so many people that they don’t give two shits if you live or die by my hands. Always drowning your sorrows in beer rather than facing the harsh realities of your line of work. I could have used a savior when my daughter was taken from this world. You did nothing about it but drink…and drink…and drink…and drink!”

The last of Ivan’s stinging tears rolled down his face and his vision became clear enough to see that he was in a laboratory of some kind. Tables full of bubbling potions, tools and devices covered in blood lying about, shackles holding rotted black skeletons, and even a randomly loose eyeball turned this seemingly ordinary hideout into Ivan’s personal hell. He wanted to scream, but his throat felt as though he swallowed a bone saw, so why bother with even more pain?

“Listen, lady…I don’t know who your daughter is…I get lots of cases…I’m overworked…maybe if you jogged my memory…”

Dollhouse flipped an oversized witch on the rocky wall and sent a lightning storm of pain throughout Ivan’s body. His nerves lit up like nuclear heat. Schizophrenic laughter rang throughout his head. Visions of blood-soaked monsters stained his eyes. Ivan finally did scream out and his sore throat felt as though he was being decapitated with a hot blade. Every part of his body, physical and psychological, was corrosively melting before his very eyes. And then Dollhouse pulled the switch back to its original position.

Ivan took a few heavy breaths as sweat trickled down his skin like a heavy rainstorm. “What…the hell…was that?!”

“I’ve been working on this device for years. The worst kind of pain imaginable and I brought it to life. Water-boarding? Boring! Musical torture? Better, but still boring! Iron maidens? Brutal as hell, but boring as shit! If I’m going to get some answers from a filthy liar like you, I might as well get a little bit of enjoyment out of it. What can I say? I feel like I’m a hundred years old. Got to have some fun while I can!” Dollhouse gave another wheezing cackle, which sent ice cold anxiety through Ivan’s body.

“You’re insane!” cried Sheriff Keith. “You really think this is going to work? I told you, I don’t know a damn thing about your daughter! And even if I did, I wouldn’t think twice about turning her over to CPS if she’s got a sick mother like you!”

With a thumbs down gesture, Dollhouse made a game show buzzer sound and hacked, “Wrong answer, dip shit!” before flipping the switch again. The feeling of bathing in hell’s lava while demons and skeletons laughed at his misery invaded Ivan’s body and mind again. His heart thumped so quickly that he was on the verge of cardiac arrest. His brain felt like it was bleeding badly enough to give him an atom bomb of a stroke. Dollhouse flipped the switch back to normal and Ivan once again breathed heavily enough to give him a Buddha belly. Oceans of sweat did nothing to cool him off.

“You still feel overworked or should I flip the switch again?”

“No! Please don’t!” begged Ivan with cascading eyeballs. “Oh my god…that was just…” His heart refused to slow down and his stomach refused to deflate, making putting together a sentence virtually impossible. “If you…tell me who…your daughter is…I’ll help…you find…justice…”

“No, you won’t. You’re just going to cast her aside like you did everybody else. Being tortured is your only motivator. And I’m sure if I just let you go and do your job, you’ll find Isabel’s husband and string him up for the public to see. I don’t want you to just find her husband. I want you to want to find him!”

Ivan’s breathing lessened somewhat and his sentences became more coherent. “Ma’am…I didn’t get into law enforcement so that I could laze about. Nobody does. But sometimes, cases come pouring in and we’re stretched too thin. If you were to kill me now, that would mean less personnel to help you find your daughter’s murderer. I probably should stop drinking so much, I agree with you on that.”

Dollhouse folded her stick-like arms across her dark-robed chest. “I want to believe you, Mr. Keith. I really do. But the fact is…you’ll stick up for your own kind even when they’re wrong. Law enforcement always does. Your coworkers could commit genocide and you’d still kiss their grimy cowboy boots.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Isabel’s husband was a cop under your jurisdiction.”

Ivan’s eyes widened at the revelation. “Wait a minute…you mean…one of my own guys killed your daughter? That’s a little slanderous, don’t you think?”

“You see?!” Dollhouse croaked, causing Sheriff Keith to nearly jump out of his skin. “This is exactly what I’m talking about! Paid vacations! Severance packages! House arrest in a lovely seaside hotel! Cops never get the punishment they deserve because shit heads like you keep covering for them!”

“You think it’s as easy as tossing them in a cell?!” shouted Ivan. “There’s a whole power structure at work here, lady! You’re damn right we protect each other! Ratting out one of our own could mean the end of our careers, or even our fucking lives! I’m not taking that risk just because of a conspiracy theory you’re peddling out!”

“So in other words…you won’t help me…because you’re scared? You look so tough in that cowboy hat. You look so cool in that trench coat and those blue jeans. You look like a real cowboy. But in reality…you’re smuggling BB pellets underneath that zipper. Look at it this way, slick: if there really is a power structure at work here, you’re fucked either way. It’s all a matter of which way of dying you’d rather face. You could get shot by your own kind…or you could go through a lifetime of agony on my table!”

Ivan gulped so hard that one would swear he was chugging another bottle.

“Truth is, Sheriff Keith, I could keep that switch flipped until time itself is standing still. Sure, I’ll run up my electricity bill, but when nobody knows where the fuck you are, you don’t pay bills. Like I said before, nobody’s looking for you, Ivan. Nobody’s looking for me either. Even if you did report me to your buddies, they’d never believe that a hundred year old witch tortured you all this time. Come to think of it, they’d die of laughter before you died of ratting out your fellow cops.”

Ivan sighed deeply and tried to relax on the table, but obviously to no avail. He hated to admit it, but everything she said was right. No holes in her logic, but there would be a bigger hole where Ivan’s heart used to be if he endured another round of torture table madness. Then again…

“Let’s say I do help you find your daughter’s killer and bring him to justice. If my fellow cop is a killer…what does that make you, Dollface, or whatever the hell your name is? You built this table because you wanted justice. But in reality, you’re every bit as bad as your daughter’s murderer. Maybe you’re worse. At least when Isabel was shot, it was over with a quickness!”

“Ah-ha! So you admit it! I knew it! I bloody knew it!” boasted Dollhouse as she pumped her arm up and down in victory.

“Okay, fine, so you know who your daughter’s killer is! Why don’t you put HIM on the table instead of me?! Sure, he’s long gone by now, but I’m sure if you spent as much time finding him as you did me, you’d get your justice a hell of a lot faster! I’m just a middleman, for god’s sake! Torturing me isn’t going to do shit!”

Dollhouse sighed and held her face in her hands. “You know what? You’re right. You’ve been right all along. You’re about as useful as an asshole on my elbow. I should have never drugged you and brought you here. Yes, you’re a sheriff, but you probably got that job by putting the right body parts in your mouth. I should just let you go.”

Ivan breathed a sigh of relief, confident his debating skills have saved his life.

“Then again…if you just admitted to being useless…then that makes you an accomplice!” snickered Dollhouse before flipping the switch and making Ivan scream loudly enough to loosen dust from the walls and ceiling. The pain of a thousand gallons of acid and a million knives being poured on his body was back again, but for a much more eternal period of time. His jaw stretched beyond its means as he screamed. His tongue fell out of his head. His heart, brain, and eyeballs were time bombs ready to detonate. His bowels flooded badly enough to sag his jeans around his ankles. His underwear stunk like a junkyard after his bladder exploded.

In the end, Ivan Keith didn’t stand for something, so he laid down for everything.

"The Savior's Champion" by Jenna Moreci

BOOK TITLE: The Savior’s Champion

AUTHOR: Jenna Moreci

YEAR: 2018

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Dark Fantasy

GRADE: Extra Credit

In a medieval tournament to crown The Savior’s husband, twenty men must venture through trap-infested tunnels, complete blood-curdling challenges, and even fight each other to the death until one man is left standing. Muscle-bound mercenaries, arrogant royals, and imaginative artists are among these twenty competitors. Tobias Kaya, a sugar mill worker and former painter, only wants to be a part of this tournament so that he can earn enough money for his impoverished family and handicapped sister. He gives less than a damn about The Savior and instead forms a secretive romance with a healer girl named Leila. Their relationship could lead to charges of blasphemy and possibly execution. After all the violence and trauma the tournament has to offer, Tobias’s love for Leila is the most real thing to him.

I must say, it has been years since a book hit me so hard in the feels that I thought I’d fall to pieces right then and there. Every emotion Tobias went through in this heinous tournament, I felt a hundred fold. The trauma of his friends being savagely murdered, the heartbreak of his arguments with Leila, the warm fuzziness of their passionate loving moments, the tears that fell down both of their cheeks, they all solidified what would become my Tobias-Bias. I connected with his anger, sadness, and passion like no other character. I came very close to crying myself at times, but if I won’t reveal the events that made me do so, because that would unveil too many spoilers. As a reader, you want Tobias to succeed and be happy despite all the misery and bloodshed the tournament brings.

And then you have characters in this story who deserve all the venomous hate you’ve got bottled up in your heart. The Sovereign, Brontes, will get under your skin quicker than a jagged dagger with his humiliating and loathsome treatment of Tobias. The Sovereign’s favorite muscle-bound competitors, Kaleo, Drake, and Antaeus, will have you wishing over and over again for somebody to throw them screaming form a helicopter. And Flynn? Well, he comes off as a harmless arrogant jerk at first, but as the story progresses, you’ll want to strap him to a chair and beat him with hammers. This isn’t just mild annoyance you’ll have with the villains of the story. You’ll be seething with rage at them. You’ll see red 24/7. You’ll drool like a rabid wolverine. You’ll wish you could kill them yourself. These kinds of villains are the most effective and I commend Jenna Moreci for making me want to punch them endlessly in the face.

What else could be said about this wonderfully-crafted piece of fiction? The traps in the underground tunnels are creatively put together, that’s for sure. The spider trap reminded me of the tarantula scene from Something Wicked This Way Comes. The fanged pigs served as the perfect form of mockery, which will make you want to strangle the Sovereign even more. And when Tobias goes through these blood-spraying traps, you’ll feel those too along with his colorful palette of emotions. These are the kinds of traps that would make the creators of the Saw franchise jealous. Jenna Moreci left no stone unturned with these obstacles and for that she should be commended.

The Savior’s Champion is bloody. It is heartbreaking. It is tearful. It is well-written. But most of all, it’s proof that independently published authors are not to be laughed at. Other self-published authors such as myself should look up to Jenna Moreci as a beacon of hope and a role model for what a professional author should be. I’m so confident in her abilities as an author that I wouldn’t doubt the idea of a movie deal coming her way soon. “The Savior’s Champion. Rated R. Starts Friday at a theater near you.” An extra credit grade will go to this beautifully-crafted novel that hit me in the feels harder than any one of Kaleo’s right hooks. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to look for someone to give me a hug. I need one!

Dead Roses

VERSE 1

Sitting in a vase all precious and pretty

Nothing for the soul that feels so shitty

Nothing for the heart made of chiseled stone

Nothing for the man who feels all alone

Dead roses are just a pile of corpses

Taken away by the devilish forces

You’re not a lover, you’re an undertaker

Sending men to their graves to meet their maker

CHORUS 1

Dead roses on a coffee table

Dead roses, the coffin’s nails

Dead roses with vampire thorns

Dead roses never again to be born

VERSE 2

The sweetest flower, a symbol of love

Gifted to me by an angel from above

I was never a knight in shining armor

A dancing fool with no dance partner

A fool for believing in fairy tales

When the simplest flirt ends in a fail

A prisoner of my own steel cage

A life sentence full of quiet rage

CHORUS 2

Dead roses in a padded cell

Dead roses burning in hell

Dead roses with stinger blades

Dead roses of wilting shades

BRIDGE

A loaded trap with the easiest bait

A dying romance with a sealed fate

A garden of roses, a rotting cemetery

A collection of souls so incendiary

VERSE 3

You’re not an angel, but a mere mortal

You’re not a hero of love, too immoral

You’re a soldier of fortune, a mercenary

Another burden that my heart must carry

All I have left are these wilted roses

Offensive to the least sensitive noses

Another plant gave its life for nothing

Another symbol for wasted loving

CHORUS 3

Dead roses in a garbage can

Dead roses to your biggest fan

Dead roses on the casket lid

Who the hell are you trying to kid?

Fights and arguments, war and peace

Only death could make it all cease

You made me fall in love with you

And slashed my heart right in two

Cheaters

TV SHOW TITLE: Cheaters

CREATOR: Bobby Goldstein

YEARS ACTIVE: 2000-present

GENRE: Reality Television

RATING: TV-14 for language, sexual content, and mild violence

GRADE: Mixed

Deep in the heart of Texas, the Cheaters Private Investigators go undercover as they try to catch their clients’ significant others cheating on their relationship with other partners. Each “story” starts with the client giving a brief description of his or her relationship issues and then the PI’s go on a camera stakeout of the cheating partner’s whereabouts.

After seeing the footage of infidelity, the client then is given the choice to confront his or her cheating paramour, to which they always say “yes”. Every confrontation is nasty, violent, and laced with censored swear words.

Let’s face it, the confrontations are the only real reason anybody watches the show. We like action and WWE and UFC won’t always come through for us. Unlike those two organizations, the fights on Cheaters aren’t even close to being graceful or athletic. Sometimes it’s a slap fight. Sometimes drinks are thrown. Most of the time, people just roll around on top of each other and throw haymakers.

It’s not Jackie Chan cinema, but it’s entertaining to watch nonetheless. It’s even more entertaining when these fights end up in the favor of the clients and not the cheating bastards he or she is confronting.

But sometimes it doesn’t always work out for the client and he or she gets an undeserved verbal or physical beat down. The reason this show gets a mixed grade is because the injustices happen way too often. One example is with the Trevor Olson case, where Trevor was really skinny and his girlfriend’s lover Sean was this hulking behemoth. Guess who won the shoving matches while having an over-inflated ego about it? That’s right: Sean.

The most infamous example of romantic injustice was with the Lily Santiago case, where the cheating husband shouted curses at her and the female paramour beat the crap out of her on live TV. Despite the mountain of evidence Lily had against her husband in a potential divorce case, the husband still had a massive ego and was still verbally abusive, which led me to believe he might have won the case.

Another issue that needs to be touched on is the revolving door of hosts for the show. First it was an unexciting bore named Tommy Grand. And then we had Joey Greco, who was full of puns, delightfully condescending to the cheating party, and protective and valiant toward his clients. Joey was such an awesome host that he got to do the show for a little over a decade before his hosting duties were turned over to Clark Gable III.

No, you didn’t read that wrong. The grandson of famous actor Clark Gable is now doing an unsophisticated piece of television called Cheaters. During the first season he did, Clark raised his voice and was generally annoying to listen to. The following seasons, he was too laidback and had no passion for his duties whatsoever. Maybe instead of asking “Scooby-Doo, where are you?!”, we should pose that question to Joey Greco.

In spite of the mixed grade I give this show, I continued to watch it with religious zeal. It was my Saturday night ritual: watching Cheaters with my best friend Susan as the two of us make fun of the dumb characters. We also like to poke fun at the commercials for Belviq that come on during the show, where the actors seem overly confused about their eating habits and then all of the sudden have an overactive social life after taking the pills.

This WAS our Saturday night ritual and then for some reason, Joe TV, a local Seattle channel, decided to stop showing Cheaters. My Roku won’t come through for me either. To say I’m having Cheaters withdrawal is an understatement. Come back, guys! Come back! I’ll raise your grade to Extra Credit if you do! I promise! Scout’s honor, even though I’m not a Boy Scout.