King Nigel Hargreaves, Leader of the anti-Oxford Comma Crusade...and a Guy Who Needs a Social Life

 

Jerry "The King" Lawler

 

Rainbow Ranch, Epilogue

If this had been a feast on any other day, Lucy would have wolfed her entire plate down in record time. Every meal after that would have seen that record broken tenfold with even more food on her plate. But ever since the events of the past few days, pork sausages and gravy-smothered turkey weren’t at the forefront of her thoughts. She started those few days as a skinny little weakling who would shake and shiver at the thought of being obliterated by a sorcerer’s fireball. The destruction of her once beloved tennis ball nearly sent her spiraling off the deep end. But ever since finding the latent courage she always knew she had, there was a major decision she had to make. Would she continue to channel that courage into her newfound role as a soldier in the Shut Up, Stupid Dog squadron or would she return to a life of comfort and belly rubs?

 

The Chiweenie warrior scanned her bulging paranoid-looking eyes across the dining hall and saw that most of her brethren had chosen to return to the comfortable lives they once had. Gone were their humanoid features. In their place were the animal bodies that made them charming and vulnerable in the first place. Cats and dogs sitting at the long dinner table and slurping up chunks of meat with their tongues instead of forks and knives. If they had lips, the sounds of wet smacking would echo throughout the castle. King James Gaines sat at the head of the table with his own plate of mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and ham slices. To his left was Razor Ripley, an ironic choice for a dinner guest considering skeletons literally didn’t have the guts to eat a gigantic meal. Ripley’s magic was responsible for changing the animal guests back to their original forms, so it was only right that he joined this celebration of victory.

 

Lucy couldn’t find it in her heart to blame these animals for choosing comfort over duty. Ozzie and Callie were well past their prime years and deserved to enjoy a bowl of broth together as the couple they once were. Loki had no business being involved in Harrison’s war at all, so to see him munching down on juicy steak was a long time coming. Every last member of the Shut Up, Stupid Dogs squadron never wanted to be a part of the war either; they were victims of circumstance. Rainbow Ranch was never meant to be a warring nation. It was built to be an animal’s paradise, a second chance for animals who never knew what love was. In Lucy’s mind, that all changed the minute King Harrison decided to bastardize what he and his brother worked so hard to create together. In Lucy’s mind…never again would this be allowed to happen…

 

“Something troubling you, Lucy?” asked King James. “Your plate has gone untouched throughout this entire event. This is your celebration. What ails you?”

 

And just like that, Lucy’s mind was made up. She hopped out of her golden chair and scampered over to where James and Ripley were sitting. She cleared her throat in her usual skittish manner, bowed to her masters, and stood up straight with her paws behind her back. “Your majesty, I have something to say. I want to continue fighting for the Shut Up, Stupid Dogs!”

 

James and Ripley’s eyes widened at the revelation, while the dogs and cats continued to munch on their meals like dogs and cats were always meant to do, no involvement in human affairs whatsoever. Ripley asked, “Are you sure this is what you want? You looked so terrified out on the battlefield, like you couldn’t wait to curl up next to the fireplace once it was all over. Why put yourself through such misery again?”

 

“it’s not miserable!” said Lucy defensively. “I believe in my homeland! I believe in everything we stand for! If another jumbo jerk like Harrison wants to take it from us, he’ll have to go through me!” She punctuated that sentence by jumping high in the air and raising her clenched paw. “I’ll teach the next generation of puppers everything I know about courage and strength! Together we can beat anything that comes our way! We’ll give them the old one, two, buckle your shoe!” The spinning motion was easier to do without her hammer, therefore she landed perfectly on her metal-booted feet.

 

“Your enthusiasm is a breath of fresh air, Lucy the Hammer,” complimented King James. “You do realize that training a new generation of animal warriors is a big responsibility, do you not? It takes a lot of patience, much more wisdom, and the heart of a champion. You’re putting an entire squadron’s lives on your shoulders, which means you’ll have so many expectations to not only meet, but exceed. Are you prepared to take on that role?”

 

“Yes, sir!” The overly-excited Lucy spun around in the air once again and landed like a graceful dancer. “Give me everything you’ve got, your majesty! Let me at ‘em! We’ll be the best squadron ever and nobody will beat us! All hail the Shut Up, Stupid Dogs!” James and Ripley’s shoulders sagged as though Lucy had said something wrong. “Huh?”

 

“About that name…” said Ripley. “It’s officially retired. It was a rather cruel way of keeping you and your brethren in line. You and your new recruits deserve so much better than to be yelled at by an old codger like me. We need something that represents the spunky spirit of our animal soldiers. Something uplifting. Something worthy of their new leader’s excitement and zest for life. Something like…The Tennis Ball Gang!”

 

Lucy and James looked at Ripley as though he had worms crawling out of his mouth, which were probably stuck in his brain somewhere to come up with an idea like that. “Hear me out, you two.” Ripley cleared his throat. “Lucy…that tennis ball was more than a toy for you. It represented something deep within your childlike soul. It represented all the positivity you had despite being placed in a terrible situation that was not of your own making. There were many sad times during your journey, but all they did was lock the positive spirit away until it was needed the most. And when that beloved tennis ball was destroyed in combat, you knew your enemy had made a grave mistake. That tennis ball wasn’t just a toy. It represented passion.”

 

King James patted Ripley’s bony hand. “The sentiment is not lost on me, but outside of our royal circle, no one would know what that meant. Suppose another enemy comes along and threatens our homeland. What if he hears the name Tennis Ball Gang and finds nothing but amusement?”

 

“Let them laugh, your majesty!” Lucy’s excitement took over once again. “Those buttheads can have all the comedy they want, but we’ll see if they’re still laughing after losing to a scared little Chiweenie! Nobody will live down taking a loss at the hands of The Tennis Ball Gang! We’ll be remembered forever! History teachers will love us! Our enemies will learn to fear us! And nobody will mess with our precious fur babies ever again!” Lucy spun around in the air even higher this time, once again sticking the landing like an athlete.

 

James and Ripley stared contemplatively at each other for a while before nodding in agreement. James stood up with a goblet of wine in hand, a proud declaration on the horizon. “Very well! If that’s what you desire the most, it shall be done! Lucy the Hammer, you are now the official captain of The Tennis Ball Gang! You and your charges will work with other squadrons to ensure the safety of our precious homeland! When we say never again, we mean never again! Congratulations, Lucy! An honor well-deserved! Cheers!”

 

As King James took a drink of his wine, Lucy ran circles around his ankles thanking him over and over again like she consumed a handful of pixie sticks. Excitement came naturally for Lucy no matter what the situation, but it all came rushing out at once at the prospect of this new role she had been given. It was indeed an exciting time to be alive. Rainbow Ranch really did give second chances and Lucy took full advantage of those opportunities. Even Razor Ripley couldn’t help but crack a proud grin knowing that his once weakest link was now his strongest ally.

 

What did the cats and dogs think of all this? Were they every bit as excited about this new era for Rainbow Ranch? Were they looking forward to a bright future where happiness was the norm and love ruled over all? Nah. They were more interested in chomping on their plates of meat and licking their own buttholes, not necessarily in that order. What a bunch of divas.

Rainbow Ranch, Chapter 1

In a world where something unexpected happened every day, Lucy the Hammer used her time off to chase her favorite tennis ball back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She missed doing this so much as a non-humanoid puppy that she ran after said ball with excited pitter-patters, galloping like the world’s smallest and peppiest horse. Her long Chiweenie tongue hung down in anticipation for finally getting her beloved toy in her mouth. But once she snapped her jaws, her fellow squad mates would throw it in the opposite direction. Even with whiny cries of, “Give it back, give it back!”, her much bigger humanoid dog companions got their chuckle-filled kicks out of playing keep-away.

And then the towering bulldog caught the tennis ball and waved it around out of Lucy’s reach. Even after jumping her highest, her feet dangling in the air, she could never snatch her coveted treasure. And then the much bigger dog reached down and rolled Lucy on her back, tickling her stomach and getting her to giggle like the little child she always wanted to be. Somewhere in this playful session, the bulldog shoved the tennis ball in Lucy’s mouth and then she began to relax on the stony ground. Her squad mates continued to horse-laugh, but these were jovial laughs rather than mean ones.

The longer Lucy the Hammer could live in the past and forget the Hammer part of her name, the happier she became as evidenced by her glowing grin and wagging butt. Playing with tennis balls, chewing pork sausages, getting belly rubs and ear scratches, and running across wheat fields unhindered by the burdens of humanhood. But as heavenly as these fantasies were for Lucy, it didn’t change the fact that she was laying on a cold stone ground this whole time. 

This place wasn’t her happy home. It was a hydroelectric powerplant in the shape of a pyramid. Water flowed through channels like a gentle creek and powered a spinning magic crystal, the essence of energy in a region already full of magic and hope. Lucy carried a war hammer for a reason. Her squad mates carried swords, maces, and axes for the same reason. Their duties as soldiers were calling to them. War was never the answer, but they protected their homeland from those who thought it was.

“Razor Ripley is here! Salute!” And just like that, Lucy spit her prized possession out of her mouth and joined her squad mates in a straight line, barking their heads off until their voices echoed across the sky. While her much bigger brethren had muscle and power behind their voices, Lucy’s bark was that of a yappy murder victim despite nobody ever laying a finger on her. That’s just how she was.

But the bass in her squadron’s voices couldn’t compare to the monstrous bellow that came out of Razor Ripley’s skeletal mouth. “SHUT UP, STUPID DOGS!” That was the name of their group and upon hearing it, the dogs did what they were told before tensing up military style, weapons in hand, ready for a job.

Ripley cracked his bony knuckles and wiggled his fingers for extra effect. “I’m certain you all have heard the news of a new enemy on the horizon. Except we’ve faced him before and succeeded. But even in this enemy’s new form, we will succeed again. King Harrison Gaines, the brother of our beloved ruler James Gaines, has possessed the body of my lovable lapdog Loki. Loki the Skull as he’s now called is the new vessel for chaos and destruction. King James is busy securing other powerplants here on Rainbow Ranch. We are here to secure this one. Harrison made the vast majority of animals into humanoids expecting them to want revenge on those who dumped them here. When he didn’t get what he wanted, he went insane and incited the violence himself. We can’t let him do that for a second time. Even with his necromantic abilities, we are one! We are strong! We will put him back into the dirt where he belongs! Do you all understand that?!” The dogs barked their loudest. “I can’t hear you! Sound off like you mean it!”

The dogs barked even louder than before, but Lucy was the most animated despite her diminutive form. She swung her hammer all around while declaring, “Let me at him, Razor Ripley! I’ll give him the old one-two-buckle my shoe!” In her overzeal, Lucy spun around and belly flopped onto the ground, her hammer spinning like a beer bottle until it skittered to the tip of Ripley’s toe. Her squad partners gasped in horror while Lucy smiled nervously at her boss.

With a glare on his face that could shake entire civilizations due to his fiery green eyes, Ripley picked up the hammer and marched over to the fallen Lucy, who was trembling and sweating in terror. She gulped a wad of saliva while Ripley’s leather sandaled footsteps echoed off the ground. Ripley leaned down. “On your feet, this instance!” Lucy sprung back up without a second thought before her hammer was given back to her. With a low and sinister tone, her boss said, “I hope you finish your job better than you started. Because if I have to have this conversation with you again…you won’t enjoy the outcome!”

Lucy gulped again. “Yes, sir.” Out of fantasy-land and into the harsh realities of Rainbow Ranch, a place whose survival hinged on her being the best soldier she could be. There was a reason she wore metal armor instead of a wool sweater that her grandma loved dressing her in. There was a reason she carried a hammer and not a tennis ball that reeked of dog breath. There was a reason everyone was glaring at her for literally falling behind on work. It was time to put down the toys and pick up weapons of war that no dog had any business carrying.

The Shut Up Stupid Dogs alongside Razor Ripley marched back and forth in a patrol unit looking for any sign of trouble. The gigantic bulldogs and pitbulls marched with a purpose. Razor Ripley floated through the air like a specter aching for his next haunt. Lucy just stared at the stone floor with the weight of early failure dragging down on her neck. She didn’t want to let anybody down. She wanted to be the goodest of good girls. She also wanted one of her squad mates to scratch her behind the ears and tell her it was okay.

In the glow of a purple magical aura shadowing behind her, Lucy had one more opportunity to prove herself. There he was in the flesh and fur: Loki the Skull, donning a black wizard’s robe with a hood barely concealing his murderous face. No lapdog should ever have been described that way, but here they were.

“This is the end of the line, Harrison!” threatened Razor Ripley as he gathered green energy in his bony hands. His soldiers readied their weapons and backed him up. Lucy once again shook in terror as she stood behind her boss, not out of solidarity, but out of fear of the magical lunatic that floated before them. “Ozzie the Wise has no time or tolerance for you! None of us do! What you’ve done was inexcusable! Now go back to bed, sweet king!”

Razor Ripley threw fireballs and lightning bolts at Loki the Skull while the dog soldiers attempted to rush into battle, cutting their foe off at all angles. Lucy held her war hammer in her trembling hands, clearly out of her league with this evil wizard. Despite having a clear numbers disadvantage, Loki the Skull held his own with rings of electricity and stardust emitting from his aura. The soldiers were swept off their feet while Ripley was blown backwards by the magical tremors. Ripley gave cover fire to his troops while they looked for an opportunity to flank past Loki’s magic and get within striking distance. Every time a soldier thought he had a chance, he was blown back even further with a fiery ring.

Lucy continued to bite her nails and watch in horror while one of her comrades was hanging onto the side of the building, scratching, clawing, and yelping for help. Loki smiled sickeningly as he slowly zeroed in on what would be his first kill of the battle. Loki’s paws electrified, his breath emitted clouds of poison, and his laugh made his evil intentions as clear as the crystal that powered this plant.

Lucy didn’t know which one she feared more: Loki the Skull or knowing she would let her squad down if she continued standing there without doing anything. The sight of Razor Ripley scowling at her and her squad mate dangling on the edge brought forth a fiery heart of her own. She readied her hammer and pitter-pattered across the ground, ducking underneath Loki’s defensive rings. And then she jumped in the air, one mighty swing of her hammer coming down on Loki’s foot.

Harrison’s vessel howled like werewolf while dancing around holding his cartoonishly thumping and pumping foot. Lucy wasted no time in pulling her friend back onto the building while Loki took a plunge of his own. Soon Loki’s cries of pain and terror grew quieter and quieter until he splashed into a lower bank of water like a turd in a toilet bowl.

Lucy’s squadron, Razor Ripley included, gazed upon her with shock and awe. She could only give a nervous smile in response. And then the dogs cheered and hoisted her on their shoulders in victory. “Congratulations, Lucy, you did it! Woo-hoo!” said the tennis ball-wielding bulldog from earlier. The hip-hip-hoorays continued as Lucy was launched higher and higher into the air. She laughed and screamed, “WEE!” while Razor Ripley crossed his arms and smiled benevolently in what seemed like the first time since forever.

Then the sound of cackling fire and electricity started up again and the next time Lucy was caught, she toppled her squad mates. “No…NO!” she cried while Loki the Skull floated right back up to the top of the powerplant, evil energy swirling around him and downward eyes glaring holes through all of his opponents. This time everybody backed up in fear, but Lucy’s newfound confidence led her tiny legs into battle once again. But this time, Loki brought backup in the form of the water from the river bank he had just splashed in. It rose in a tidal wave behind him, taller than the highest trees and more destructive than a biblical flood.

The wave crashed down upon the Shut Up Stupid Dogs and Razor Ripley, washing them down the side of the pyramid-like powerplant. The squad mates and Ripley screamed their heads off as they were being tossed around by the turbulence. Lucy, on the other hand, squealed in delight like she was riding a water slide. “WEEEEEEEEEE!” She even let out a few giggles while her friends were probably defecating themselves knowing they were going to get squished by whatever was down there. Sure enough, the wave hit the bottom of the pyramid and splashed the Shut Up Stupid Dogs and their boss every which way.

The end of the “ride” came when Lucy smacked her butt on the dirty ground and giggled one last time. “That was fun! Let’s do that again, guys!” No response from or sight of her squad mates. “Guys?! Guys, where are you?!” She pitter-pattered on the dirt ground looking for her friends, crying for help and howling in her murder victim way. Just like the day she was abandoned on this once desolate island, Lucy the Hammer was all alone and she knew it. Her head hung low, but not without her blowing the water out of her ears and letting out a deep sigh. Just like the patrol at the top of the pyramid, she trudged along the ground not knowing where to go or how to recover from a failure she thought was her fault. “Where’s my tennis ball?” she softly whined.

Rainbow Ranch, Prologue

Loki repeatedly slurped his canine tongue across Razor Ripley’s bony toes, half-expecting them to taste like they used to have meat on them. Even that was better tasting than the dried kibble in his metal bowl. What the brown and black Labrador really wanted was some scratches behind his ears and maybe a few rubs of his belly. Ripley certainly had the sharp nails on his fingers to achieve such a blissful massage.

But this was far from the night to be asking his master for love and affection. The skeletal necromancer’s mind was somewhere else, far away from the borders of Rainbow Ranch. The same thing could be said about the king sitting across from him at the chess table. The stone pieces hadn’t moved in what seemed like ages. These two lovers of doggies everywhere were growing old sitting in these wooden chairs. Then again, growing old explained the presence of most of the “clients” in this funeral home. Loki curled up against Razor Ripley’s sandaled feet to provide him with warmth, but it was his heart and soul that needed warmth the most.

“I’m growing impatient,” growled Ripley, gesturing with his skeletal fingers for King James Gaines to move one of his pieces.

“I’m sorry, Ripley. I can’t focus tonight.” King James squeezed his temples with his gauntlet-covered hand. “It’s hard to get anything done these days knowing my brother is in that coffin.” He jerked his thumb to the next room, the temporary resting place of his younger brother Harrison. He wiped the wetness from his eye and breathed a sigh.

“I understand where you’re coming from, my liege. But your brother made his decision a long time ago. He couldn’t let go of his obsession with revenge, even though our animal friends already did. He made them human-like, for god’s sake. It was never the mission of Rainbow Ranch to give these poor creatures human responsibilities. Harrison made a grave mistake. I’d say he has to live with it, but he’s clearly not doing a whole lot of living.”

“I know. Trust me, Ripley, I know. I just wish things could have been different. Maybe if I convinced him to seek help for his madness…Look…it doesn’t change the fact that I still miss him. He’s my brother. This is not the same man I grew up with. He was hurting.”

Razor Ripley placed his hand over King James’s and spoke in a much more sympathetic tone. “I miss Harrison too. But he has changed so much over the years that he’s hardly recognizable. It’s time to let his spirit go to the next world. The funeral is tomorrow. I’ll have the Shut Up Stupid Dogs primed and ready.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t call them that, Ripley.”

Loki finally got his desired pettings upon sniffing Ripley’s robed crotch. But there was something off about his master’s strokes. They didn’t feel right. They didn’t feel like true affection. Loki whined before stumbling off to the nearby wall and laying down in a donut circle.

Ripley continued. “I call them that, because that’s what they respond to. They don’t seem to mind.”

“I know, but it just feels…wrong.”

“If it pleases your majesty, I’ll ponder another name shortly. But for now, this is what my squadron of soldiers will be called. Do you wish to forfeit this game of chess?”

King James nodded and languidly knocked over the stone pieces before Ripley began disassembling the board. Loki’s eyes grew sore as he watched his masters in this much pain. The death of King Harrison hit them like a war hammer to the gut. Loki could hardly blame them for their slow zombie-like movements, but the Labrador still wanted his love and affection. He still wanted to be called a good boy. But in that regard, he was glad he was never made human-like by Harrison’s magic and called a Shut Up Stupid Dog by the bony wizard who was supposed to love him. Loki whined and whimpered as his masters shuffled out of the lobby, presumably back to the castle to deal with the logistics of Harrison’s funeral.

Loki could just lie there all night and let his puppy soul drift away into the universe. Maybe somewhere out in the stars, he could hear Harrison’s voice calling him over for the pettings he wanted. Maybe Harrison would have a sausage link ready to wolf down in a matter of seconds. If dogs could purr, these thoughts would get Loki’s throat motor running. Maybe the dream world would be kinder to him than a couple of royals whose minds were somewhere else. Loki knew they wouldn’t be like that forever, but why did this cycle of grieving have to take so long?

“Loki!” said a sinister throaty voice that only the funeral home dog could hear. His head perked right up and he looked everywhere. “Loki! Loki-Pokey! Loki J. Pokicus! Sweet gee-nee baby!” There was only one person the dog knew of who would use such a hideous, yet endearing baby voice. But it couldn’t be him. He was dead! Ozzie the Wise made sure of that with a storm of lightning bolts! Loki whined and wailed as the hypnotic voice from beyond continued to haunt his mind.

“Loki-Pokey! Into the coffin room, Loki! I have a treat for you! Come get some din-din!”

The dog pranced and galloped into the coffin room where Harrison’s body was being kept. There it was among rows of beautiful pink wildflowers. There it was among stands of burned out candles. There it was smelling of death and fried meat: Harrison’s corpse resting in a golden casket. He wasn’t moving. He gave no indication that he was alive. But that voice was unmistakable. That grizzly-bear-like voice that was reserved for the sweetest of animals. “Come to me, Loki! Eat something other than dried food!”

Could Loki do it? Did he dare do such a thing to Harrison’s corpse? Yes, he was a dead body that should never have been violated…but his burned flesh reminded Loki of strips of bacon. The saltiness made him drool. The fattiness made him pant and smile. He had stars in his eyes the likes a depressed necromancer and king had never seen before. Could he do it? Loki slowly approached the casket licking his lips. He sniffed Harrison’s burned skin. Oh, that salty stench that only grew more powerful with the increasing loudness in Loki’s head.

He took a bite of crispy bacon flesh. He swallowed it down in a rush. He took another bite. And another. And another. This desecrating act soon turned into a god-like feast. Loki couldn’t stop eating. The meat was so delicious and tender, so crispy and salty, so juicy and fatty. It didn’t take long at all for Harrison’s corpse to be reduced to an empty shell of black bones. For good measure and good flavor, Loki licked the bones clean until their savory benefits were gone. The dog’s tummy was fatter than a hot air balloon. His colon was gassier than industrial smoke.

But more importantly, Loki’s eyes were brighter than Ozzie the Wise’s lightning spells could ever be. The eyes glows bright green while the light in the back of his throat projected red energy. Loki convulsed and twisted, rolling around on the carpeted floor and knocking over some of the flowers and candles. He also knocked over a sacred religious tome that Razor Ripley kept for such occasions. His stomach bulged and his anus blasted.

A shield of thunder enveloped Loki’s body until he had become just like any other experiment Harrison worked on: human-like. His body was no longer his own. His thoughts were at the mercy of spiritual puppet strings. The voice in Loki’s head grew louder until it was the only thought he had. The disgraced King Harrison Gaines had complete control of Loki’s body. He was alive and well once again, back from the dead and hungry for the vengeance he wished the animal society had earlier.

“Loki…you are my vessel…you are my slave…you will do what my worthless human carcass couldn’t do the first time around. You will kill Ozzie the Wise…and you will kill anybody who hurts our cause, whether they come from within Rainbow Ranch or far beyond. You will use my magic. You will obey my commands. And if you’re a good boy…I will give you all the love and affection you deserve in the afterlife!”

Harrison’s wicked laughter echoed throughout Loki’s acid-washed mind, but also blasted out of the dog’s mouth along with drool and magical energy. Vengeance would come whether James and Ripley wanted it to or not. That would go double for the “weak” animals who were “too lazy” to find their own justice after being abandoned on this island.

Bend the Knee

VERSE 1

Get ready to bend the knee to King Petty

Your legs already feel like a piece of spaghetti

You live in my head, now it’s time to pay rent

I don’t care if you can’t afford to eat again

Blow you out my nose like I’m allergic to pollen

Blow you out my ass, it ain’t coming out solid

Which one is more tyrannical: a landlord or a king?

Depends on if your begging even means a thing

CHORUS 1

Bend the knee!

Bow to me!

Take my heed!

Or else you bleed!

VERSE 2

My storybook soldiers are always so loyal

Your graves are soil for the mighty and royal

Grow the tree of woe, put you in the Jesus pose

Drive spikes in your feet, bleed all over your toes

Drive spikes in your hands, quit jerking yourself

Leaving you to die is good for my health

“King Petty, King Petty, will you show me mercy?”

Hell to the no, your blood makes me thirsty

CHORUS 2

Bend the knee!

I ignore your plea!

Are you shitting me?!

You’re still guilty!

VERSE 3

All I want to do is slam dance to my music

All you want to do is blow my dynamite fuses

All I want to do is write my violent stories

All you want to do is leech off of my glory

You demons take credit for all of my fame

As though you and I are created the same

You’re a schizophrenic voice telling me to quit

Your ass is gone after I take my morning shit

CHORUS 3

Bend the knee!

Suck up to me!

You’re still a flea!

Carrying a disease!

Brain parasite!

Fuck my dreams at night!

Bend the knee to me!

Because I’m always right!

"Super Human" by Michael Carroll

BOOK TITLE: Super Human

AUTHOR: Michael Carroll

YEAR: 2010

GENRE: Fiction

SUBGENRE: Superhero Sci-Fi

GRADE: C

It feels weird reading a book about a worldwide virus in the year 2022. The difference between this book and the real world is that not only are people actually receptive to the idea of vaccines, but there’s a ragtag group of teenaged superheroes (and Lance) who genuinely want to see the world recover from this. But they can’t achieve those goals without dishing out some violence on the bad guys responsible for this sickness. Their enhanced strength, sonic abilities, and telekinesis can only be used as a means to an end rather than be the one-size-fits all solution. That’s a part of superhero fiction not a lot of authors get, but Michael Carroll pulled it off rather effectively. It also helps that Lance (the normie) is a slick thief who can smooth-talk his way out of any situation. Using brains to solve problems will be more relatable to the audience than using superhuman violence.

But unfortunately, we don’t always get the best use of the characters’ brains. Lance does all the intellectual heavy lifting with his gift for gab. The rest of the characters, both good and evil, don’t always make the smartest decisions and I’m surprised it hadn’t come back to bite them in the worst ways. Freeing supervillain prisoners to combat even more powerful supervillains? Dumb. Driving a military jeep like a speed demon and being surprised when it hits one of the allies? Also dumb. Sparing a powerful villain’s life because, “We don’t kill?” Yeah, we’re past the point of being civil now that there’s a deadly virus causing the adults to vomit inside out. The villains are no better when it comes to cartoonishly-stupid decision-making. Resurrecting an ancient king who might kill them off and is not immune to the virus himself? Beyond stupid. Toying with the heroes instead of finishing them off instantly? Reckless. Revealing the entire plan to the heroes and even going so far as to keep records of their allies’ social security numbers and base coordinates? Colossal fail. Am I reading a superhero book or watching a Three Stooges routine?

The writing itself is, ironically, nothing to write home about. The dialogue between the heroes sounds so similar that I couldn’t tell the characters apart without tags. The characters in general are introduced to the audience via telling instead of showing. Some of the dialogue sounds awkward and clumsy, especially when the characters try to make analogies sound cool, though they wouldn’t sound much better as prose, either. The one character in the story who’s immune to such clunky writing? Krodin, the ancient king the villains are trying to resurrect. He comes off like a total stud, whether he’s conquering entire countries by himself, enslaving everyone he meets, or talking down to his enemies like a godlike king should. He could come off like a Gary-Stu villain, but he’s written so convincingly that I don’t mind him being overpowered. The action scenes in general are well-done since they move quickly and hit hard.

But none of the praise I’ve given this book is enough to elevate the grade above a C, or three out of five stars. I was able to finish it. I even enjoyed it in a lot of places. But this book is cheesier than a dairy farm, which is an analogy Michael Carroll can use for free, but it wouldn’t be a good idea since that’s one of the things I criticized this novel for. Everything just felt so…average. Even the superpowers seemed mediocre and hastily thrown together. This wasn’t a good book, it wasn’t a bad book, it was just sort of…there.

Lars Stonewall

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THE BASICS

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Name: Lars Stonewall

Nicknames: King, Big Man, Fire-Breathing Giant

Gender: Cisgender Male

Age: 50

Birth Date: 450 PM

Birth Place: Wargun City

Currently Living In:  Honey Valley

Species: Human

Ethnicity / Race: White

Citizenship: Wargun City and Honey Valley

Religion / Beliefs: Left-Wing Atheist

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FAMILY

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Father: Hagar Stonewall

Age: Dead

Relationship: Respect

Mother: Bernadette Stonewall

Age: Dead

Relationship: Nurturing

Spouse: Gwendolyn Stonewall

Age: 40

Relationship: Separated

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PHYSICAL FEATURES:

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Height: 7’0”

Weight: 350 lbs.

Frame / Build: Gigantic and Muscular

Hair length: Long

Hair color: Black

Eye shape: Large

Eye color: Brown

Complexion: Grizzled

Face size (broad, narrow, etc.): Sinewy

Voice type: Deep

Foot size: 24 Men’s

Tattoo(s): Sun On His Back

Scar(s): Gashes across his chest and legs

Other notable accessories: Heavy spiked metal armor and a crown

Any other identifying mark(s): Beard

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SOCIO / ECONOMIC / POLITICAL

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Political Affiliation: Leftwing

Economic Class: Rich

Social Class (nobility, artisan, merchant, commoner, etc.): King

Occupation: King

Income: Business Taxes

Residence: Honey Valley

Transportation: Castle Tank

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INTERESTS

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Favorite Food(s): Turkey Legs

Favorite Sport(s): Jousting

Favorite Book(s): Historical Fiction

Favorite Show(s): TV hasn’t been invented yet

Favorite Music: War Drums

Favorite Color(s): Gold and Gray

Clothing Style / Preferences: Armor

Hobbies: Chess, Blacksmithing, and Weightlifting

Role Model(s): His parents and Llewellyn Xavier

Likes: Good Food in Large Portions

Dislikes: Alcohol

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PERSONALITY

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Good Qualities / Trait(s): Kind, Loyal, and Charismatic

Vices / Negative Trait(s): Workaholic, Easy Anger, and Perfectionism

Strengths: Leadership and Combat Skills

Weaknesses: Self-Sacrifice and Overconfidence

Habits / Idiosyncrasies / Quirks: Cracking Bones

Phobia / Fears: Heights, Failure, and Looking Weak

Loves: Respect and Loyalty

Hates: Bigotry and Dictatorships

Select one personality type below that best describes your character:

PROTECTORS

[X] Overseer (ESTJ) – Thrives on facts and details. Has a clear set of standards and beliefs. They are hardworking, responsible, and self-confident. They rely on experiences rather than speculation, and make decisions based on these. Very good at enforcing laws and rules. Loyal and hard-working. Like to be in charge. Very organized, tends to be a stickler for the rules.

Define your character’s personality based on the following aspects:

a. Physically (outward interaction with his environment, personal strengths): Commands respect through his size and voice

b. Psychologically (intellect, mental stability, morality): Wise and Composed

c. Spiritually (his faith, convictions): Doesn’t follow religion

d. Emotionally (willpower, under stressful situations, expressiveness): Strong and hardened

e. Socially (how others view him, how he interacts with people): Respected by his people, hated by dictators

Others things to know:

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HISTORY

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1. Describe the character’s childhood. He was groomed to be a leader by his royal parents and he excelled in the physical aspects. The mental and emotional aspects were learned through his parents refusing to spoil him and making him work for everything he had. He learned to push through his tiredness and gets his work ethic through that.

2. Name the good incidents that have happened in the character’s life. How has this shaped his personality? He played football as a kid and enjoyed every minute of it. He was so good that he eventually became captain of his team. This was part of his grooming to become a leader.

3. Name bad experiences that have happened in the character’s life. How has this shaped his personality? He was bullied a lot for his size and whenever he chased his attackers, he would gas out and they would get away unscathed. This is why he’s easily angered and has workaholic tendencies when it comes to physical exercise.

4. What is the character doing when first introduced? What are his goals at this point? He’s buying the services of Shadow Asylum so that they can help him defeat the Atwood Queendom and free her slaves. The reason he has a soldier shortage is because they’re randomly disappearing just like the elves in Windham and Llewellyn’s village.

4a. Do these goals change at any point in the story? He prioritizes defeating Shelly Atwood over striking a trade deal with Llewellyn even though both are equally important. The goals remain the same throughout the story.

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STORY DEVELOPMENT:

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CHARACTER ARCHETYPE: (Put an X on all applicable boxes)

[] Addict (Conspicuous Consumer, Glutton, Workaholic–see also Gambler)

[] Advocate (Attorney, Defender, Legislator, Lobbyist, Environmentalist)

[] Alchemist (Wizard, Magician, Scientist, Inventor–see also Visionary)

[] Angel (Fairy Godmother/Godfather)

[] Antagonist (Opposing View, not necessarily the Evil Bad — see also Villain)

[] Anti-Hero

[] Artist (Artisan, Craftsperson, Sculptor, Weaver)

[X] Athlete (Olympian)

[] Avenger (Avenging Angel, Savior, Messiah)

[] Beggar (Homeless person/ Indigent)

[] Bully (Coward)

[] Catalyst

[] Child (Orphan, Wounded, Magical/Innocent, Nature, Divine, Puer/Puella Eternis, or Eternal Boy/Girl)

[] Clown (Court Jester, Fool, Dummling)

[] Companion (Friend, Sidekick, Right Arm, Consort)

[] Damsel (Princess)

[] Destroyer (Attila, Mad Scientist, Serial Killer, Spoiler)

[] Detective (Spy, Double Agent, Sleuth, Snoop, Sherlock Holmes, Private Investigator, Profiler–see also Warrior/Crime Fighter)

[] Dilettante (Amateur)

[] Don Juan (Casanova, Gigolo, Seducer, Sex Addict)

[] Engineer (Architect, Builder, Schemer)

[] Exorcist (Shaman)

[] Father (Patriarch, Progenitor)

[] Femme Fatale (Black Widow, Flirt, Siren, Circe, Seductress, Enchantress)

[] Gambler

[] God (Adonis, see also Hero)

[] Gossip (see also Networker)

[] Guide (Guru, Sage, Crone, Wise Woman, Spiritual Master, Evangelist, Preacher)

[] Healer (Wounded Healer, Intuitive Healer, Caregiver, Nurse, Therapist, Analyst, Counselor)

[] Hedonist (Bon Vivant, Chef, Gourmet, Gourmand, Sybarite–see also Mystic)

[] Hermit (see also Wise old Man)

[X] Hero/Heroine (see also Knight, Warrior)

[] Judge (Critic, Examiner, Mediator, Arbitrator)

[X] King (Emperor, Ruler, Leader, Chief — see also Politician)

[X] Knight in Shining Armor

[X] Liberator

[] Lover

[] Martyr

[] Mediator (Ambassador, Diplomat, Go-Between)

[] Mentor (Master, Counselor, Tutor)

[] Messiah (Redeemer, Savior)

[] Midas/Miser

[] Monk/Nun (Celibate)

[] Mother (Matriarch, Mother Nature)

[] Mystic (Renunciate, Anchorite, Hermit)

[] Networker (Messenger, Herald, Courier, Journalist, Communicator)

[] Pioneer (Explorer, Settler, Pilgrim, Innovator)

[] Poet

[X] Politician (see also King)

[] Priest (Priestess, Minister, Rabbi, Evangelist)

[] Prince

[] Prostitute

[] Queen (Empress)

[] Rebel (Anarchist, Revolutionary, Political Protester, Nonconformist, Pirate)

[X] Rescuer

[] Saboteur

[] Samaritan

[] Scribe (Copyist, Secretary, Accountant–see also Journalist)

[] Seeker (Wanderer, Vagabond, Nomad)

[] Servant (Indentured Servant)

[] Shape-shifter (Spell-caster–see also Trickster)

[] Slave

[] Spectre (Ghost / Apparition with Unresolved issues)

[] Storyteller (Minstrel, Narrator)

[] Student / Scholar (Disciple, Devotee, Follower, Apprentice)

[] Teacher (Instructor, see also Mentor)

[] Thief (Swindler, Con Artist, Pickpocket, Burglar, Robin Hood)

[] Threshold Guardian

[] Trickster (Puck, Provocateur)

[] Turncoat

[] Vampire

[] Victim

[] Villain / Shadow (Big Bad of the story; see also Antagonist)

[] Virgin (see also Celibate)

[] Visionary (Dreamer, Prophet, Seer–see also Guide, Alchemist)

[X] Warrior (Soldier, Crime Fighter, Amazon, Mercenary, Soldier of Fortune, Gunslinger, Samurai)

[] Wise old Man (see also Hermit)

1. What are the motivations for the character’s actions? Not only his duties as a king, but also his love for his wife, who was kidnapped by Shelly’s forces a long time ago as part of the slave-trading business.

2. What are the character’s goals / ambition / dreams? He wants to overthrow evil empires and gain the trust of the disenfranchised. He also wants to have children of his own, which he never got to do with his wife before she was abducted.

3. What external conflicts would you wish for the character to overcome? Overthrowing Shelly Atwood and freeing her slaves.

3a. What are the obstacles in the character’s path that might make this difficult? Her forces are more powerful than his. Plus, she has the trust of her people due to her soft-power authority.

4. What inner conflicts would you wish for the character to overcome? Move on from his traumas and become a better leader by proxy.

4a. What are the obstacles in the character’s path that might make this difficult? He’s easily riled up and gets himself into trouble on the battlefield. He can only make rational decisions when he’s planning things out beforehand, hence his reputation as a good leader.

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AUTHOR’S NOTES / MISCELLANY

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Character theme song: “Between You and Nowhere” by Hellyeah

Celebrity / IRL lookalike: Kevin Nash

Get a Hobby

VERSE 1

Get a hobby! Any kind will do

Go for a jog underneath the snow moon

Slow it down to a walk if you’re too heavy

Or go for a ride in your old school Chevy

There’s a world out there beyond it all

It can’t be separated by border walls

When you stop obsessing over nunya business

You just might feel some lovey-dovey kisses

VERSE 2

Get a hobby! Any kind you like

Put it down, pick it up like riding a bike

Read epic fantasies across several novels

Or write them yourself ‘til you become a fossil

Play videogames, swing axes at dragons

Go on more adventures than Bilbo Baggins

When you curl the finger you point so much

You’ll find there’s nobody left to judge

BRIDGE

Get a hobby! You don’t have to get a life

Make friends! You don’t have to get a wife

Make memories! You don’t have to get a knife

Unless you’re cooking dinner, chop those onions right

VERSE 3

Get a hobby! Don’t hurt nobody else

Ain’t nobody in sight that needs a living hell

Keyboards are for chatting with buddies

Not for slinging shit so goopy and muddy

Get a hobby! I don’t care what it is

Don’t declare yourself the King of the Cis

Crowns are for cosplay at the Comic Con

Not for telling people that their culture is wrong

FINAL VERSE

Get a hobby, little Bobby

Have fun, you son of a gun

Create anything but hate

Get a hobby! Get a hobby!

Like Roses

Your shit doesn’t smell like roses

It’s an assault on all of our noses

Yet you do your supermodel poses

While you piss on truth with hoses

Your seed doesn’t grow superheroes

Your sperm count is damn near zero

Skin color doesn’t make you superior

Doesn’t sweeten your ugly interior

No hospital would call you a doctor

No subordinate would be your fodder

A tiny brain in your oversized head

Your generation’s ways are dead

Everybody wants to save the world

With their favorite flags unfurled

Everyone wants to be right all the time

But nobody wants the uphill climb

You reserve the right to be smug

While you’re giving yourself a tug

We reserve the right to call you out

To make you question, make you doubt

To make you feel some discomfort

To make you feel quite humble

You’re not the king of our earth

Not the chosen one since birth

Your prophecy arc was based on lies

Even you pump gas, cook our fries

Let’s see you work for buffalo nickels

My burger doesn’t have enough pickles

But don’t worry, you’re still number one

The platform on which you should run

Maybe your shit really smells like roses

Or you’re high on your own overdoses

You Don't Scare Me

CHORUS

I’m naked and fearless!

Undisputed and peerless!

You don’t scare me!

You don’t scare me!

VERSE 1

Your Hocus Pocus and necromancy

Your bag of tricks so fucking fancy

Your head games and creepy songs

Were never meant to last so long

Are you some kind of mythical god?

To me you’re just a flashy fraud

Are you gigantic in everyone’s eyes?

Those on their backs are the same size

CHORUS

I’m naked and fearless!

Undisputed and peerless!

You don’t scare me!

You don’t scare me!

VERSE 2

Make a move or get out of my way

I’ve got better things to do today

Than shake and quiver in front of you

Than to cry pointless tears of ocean blue

I’ve got mountains to climb, hills to conquer

For you I will never have to defend my honor

You’re not the devil or the boogeyman

Just a reality TV diva, a Snookie fan

BRIDGE

Jump into the lake of fire

Swim some laps until I tire

Cannonballs in the waterfalls

Of lava, ashes, and sinful passion

EXTENDED CHORUS

I’m naked and fearless!

Undisputed and peerless!

You don’t scare me!

You don’t scare me!

Walk like a giant, talk like a king

When everyone else can only scream

You can’t kill me!

You can’t control me!

You don’t scare me!

You don’t scare me!

"Tantalizing Tales of the Horrific and Fantastic" by Marie Krepps

BOOK TITLE: Tantalizing Tales of the Horrific and Fantastic

AUTHOR: Marie Krepps

YEAR: 2018

GENRE: Fictional Short Stories

SUBGENRE: Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror

GRADE: Pass

Marie Krepps has written a lot of short stories over the years and now they’re conveniently collected in this omnibus for your enjoyment. Whether you want sci-fi action, terrifying horror, heartfelt drama, or bloody violence, you will get what you came for when you pick up this amazing collection of stories. Once she has your attention, she won’t let go until you’re jolly-well finished with this one hundred plus page book.

Of all the stories in this collection, my absolute favorite would have to be Coffins, a graphically violent horror story about a teenage undertaker named Pablo who dismantles dead bodies after using them to smuggle contraband across the Mexican border. This whole story is basically a clinic on showing instead of telling and Ms. Krepps has every right in the world to show off her skills. The supporting character, a gangster named Mick, gets so ill watching Pablo do his work that there has to be multiple creative ways to describe said sickness, whether it’s his body language, his face changing colors, or the good old fashioned loss of lunch. Take notes, fellow indie authors. Professor Krepps’s class is now in session!

My other favorite story would have to be Too Late, which is a picture-perfect deconstruction of romances being rainbows and unicorns. In this story, a highly-trained soldier named Sarah must rescue her ex-boyfriend Jonas from an old neighborhood suffering through a horrific sandstorm. Their relationship was never going to work because Sarah is too battle-hardened and Jonas is too pacifistic. But even so, Sarah uses the memories of their romance to bring herself comfort on this dangerous mission. Ms. Krepps reinforces the idea that you can still care for someone long after the relationship is over. Being able to get along is a powerful thing that we don’t see too often among broken up couples. This brings me hope. Lots of hope!

And of course, if you’re looking for a revenge tale bathed in bitter blood, look no further than Sister Princess. It’s a medieval fantasy about two princesses, Greta and Angela, who compete for their father’s affection and throne as he’s getting ready to pass to the other side. While Angela is unwanted, lonely, and depressed, Greta is pretty, pompous, and arrogant. It’s pretty clear throughout the story who you’ll be rooting for to get the final nail in the coffin. Revenge will taste sweeter than an Oreo milkshake. Savor the flavor of delicious blood. It’s all yours! Cue the evil laughter.

My complaints about this short story collection are minimal at best. There are just a few typographical errors here and there. Some of the dialogue in Mason’s Promise is a little too Shakespearean for me to take seriously, especially when Celeste says that her arm was gnarled “lustily”. But it’s nothing an extra round of beta-reading can’t fix. The collection overall is fun to read and it’s another shining example of a struggling indie author making her dreams come true. If you look up to her and pay attention to what she says, your dreams will come true as well. A passing grade will go to this wonderful omnibus of short stories.

Black Panther

MOVIE TITLE: Black Panther

DIRECTOR: Ryan Coogler

YEAR: 2018

GENRE: Superhero

RATING: PG-13 for violence and language

GRADE: Extra Credit

The secret African nation of Wakanda harvests a powerful mineral called vibranium and uses the unstable element as the basis for all of their technology. Part of their technological advancements include an impenetrable superhero suit for the king of Wakanda, T’Challa a.k.a. Black Panther. A mysterious black American soldier named Erik “Killmonger” Stevens wants the vibranium for himself so that he can carry out his own political agenda. The power struggle between Black Panther and Killmonger runs deeper than just superficial greed. Revenge, revolution, and altruism are at the heart of this battle in which loyalties will be tested on both sides of the equation.

The main reason this movie gets an extra credit grade is because of how strongly black people are portrayed. Representation matters, especially in a world where racism and classism governs every part of American life. The audience will love the Black Panther character for more reasons than just being a kick-ass superhero. There’s a struggle within him that’s more taxing than the physical battles he endures. He wants to be a good king to his people, but a small part of him wants to share his loyalty with the entire world despite protests from his own subjects. This dynamic between selfishness and altruism is something we all have to consider in our lives. We need to have empathy for each other if our world is going to know true peace and the director seems to agree with that sentiment. Blood begets more blood and love begets more love. Underneath all of the action-packed fight scenes, the truth resides, though some people aren’t ready to hear that truth, which is why we have the bloodbaths we have today.

But of course, if the power struggle is to be believed, then the villain must buy into his own hype and make a strong case for it. That’s exactly what Killmonger does and the actor’s portrayal of such is to be praised. Killmonger wants revenge on a world that looks down upon him with racist bigotry. He wants to overthrow entire governments just so he can flash a middle finger to the man. It goes to show that even in a superhero movie like this, there are shades of gray in between the two extremes. The audience actually has to think for themselves and decide what is right. I hate power hungry oligarchs as much as anybody, but do we need constant assassinations left and right? It’s easy to give into the dark side when anger becomes your driving force. Be better than that. I’m begging you.

No matter what side King T’Challa takes, he’s going to have to pay his dues with one hundred percent interest. Just because he’s a superhero, doesn’t mean he’s not vulnerable to losing every now and then. Physical strength and godlike endurance can only take a man so far. It’s what’s on the inside that will bring him to any victories he needs. Anybody can throw a spear. Anybody can shoot a machinegun. But the real enemy must be conquered from within and that takes more strength than a bullet can provide. Some people don’t have that strength and they either meet an early death or they cross the moral event horizon themselves. Can Black Panther pass his own moral test? Buy a ticket and see for yourself.

In the same way that Wonder Woman was empowering to females, Black Panther is empowering for black people. While it’s nice to live vicariously through the titular superhero, it’s what we do in the real world that will make the biggest difference. What will you do to make a change? Will your actions be more powerful than a lead bullet? Will you become superhuman by virtue of your work towards a better day? Black Panther will steer you in the right direction and for that it gets an extra credit grade.

King of Elves and Trees

Every strike of the axe against the Black Forest trees sent a shiver of rage up and down Saito Kabaka’s spine. The gigantic lumberjack’s swings created the deepest wooshing noises and seemed capable of tearing off a person’s head with one slice. But instead of human heads, the massive battleaxe chipped away quickly and efficiently at the thick redwoods. Saito watched from the bushes with a contorted frown, dying on the inside with every chop. This was ecocide. This was murder. The lumberjack wasn’t just chopping down trees; he was violating the spirits of this very forest.

After a while of nausea and gritted teeth, Saito couldn’t stand idly by any longer. When the elf samurai chucked one of his daggers, he forgot instantly that this man-beast was twice his size and ten times as lethal. The dagger missed its mark, but the flannel shirt and jeans wearing titan stumbled back a few paces and sucked in air at a rapid cadence. Saito’s fiery eyes bore a hole through the giant’s nervous baby blues. Decked out in golden leather armor, donning a glowing green crown of plant roots, and drawing his slender katana, the forest guardian made his presence and fury known.

“I don’t intrude into your home and eat your food. I don’t laze on your bed and fuck your wife. I don’t snatch your valuables from underneath your booger-encrusted schnoz. So why then do you believe it’s acceptable to come to my home and cut down my trees?” asked Saito while pointing his blade at the lumberjack. He slashed at the air and continued his slithery oratory with, “This forest is not your urban dystopia. It doesn’t exist so that you could build fancy hotels and burger joints for overfed human scumbags! Take that piece of shit you call a weapon and leave this place before I rip your intestines out and lynch you with them from the same tree you tried to cut down!”

The baldheaded beast of a man’s eyes darted frantically in every direction while cold sweat poured down his forehead. And then the shtick was over when he laughed his ass off and slapped his thick knees with an echoing thud. “Are you kidding me? A teeny tiny elf like you is going to lynch me with my own intestines? Goddamn, you’re a funny motherfucker!” The yuks poured out of his mouth like verbal diarrhea as he struggled to say, “Listen, man: that environmental bullshit is overrated. Take off that stupid hat; it looks fucking ridiculous on you! You might as well walk around with a salad bowl on your head!”

The lumberjack’s chuckle-filled tirade was cut off by a flying shuriken that narrowly missed his ear. But instead of feigning fear again, he dropped his axe and gave an even less sincere double slap on his cheeks with a wide open mouth.

“Perfect timing, Tifa, as usual,” smiled Saito. Floating down to the dirt like a feather was the silken dress wearing, golden haired female elf counterpart Tifa Croft, armed with claw bracers around her wrists and wearing a plant root crown like her fellow guardian. The two of them shared a peck on the lips much to the overdramatic coughing dismay of the seven-foot lumberjack.

“You guys actually fuck in this forest?” the man giant asked. “Is that how these trees grow, by the two of you sprinkling your seeds all over the ground?”

Tifa folded her arms and treated the lumberjack to a ball-shrinking death stare. “You have the sense of humor of a fucking five year old and probably the intelligence of one too. Saito here is the King of Elves and Trees and I am his Queen. Respect the crowns, you ignorant little shit!”

The lumberjack waved his arm dismissively and scoffed, “Well, I see a whole lot of trees out here, but very many elves, so I guess this ugly ass forest could do with some urban development.” He heaved his axe in the air and pointed at various parts of the forest with his weapon. “We can put a Mickey D’s over there, a Chicas Bonitas over there, and maybe a school all the way over there. You liberal whack jobs like schools, right?”

Saito swung his katana in the air and slithered, “And what do you plan on teaching this new generation of ignoramuses: how to eat a whole bucket of fried chicken in less than thirty seconds? Maybe that’s something you can teach the elves of this forest, who will be here sooner than you think.”

“You’d better hope those little pointy-eared fags run for the hills,” smirked the lumberjack while leaning his face into Saito’s. “I wasn’t planning on committing genocide today, but I just might change my mind if the two of you don’t fuck off and leave me to my work. I’m getting a lot of money for this project and I’ll be damned if you two hippies rip it away from me and my family! Remember the name of Rudiger Seran, but fuck it, you two are going to call me Daddy by the time I’m done with you!”

Rudiger threw the first swing of his axe and would have covered the whole forest in blood if Saito and Tifa didn’t duck out of the way in time. The two elves rolled and flipped their way out of every slash that the giant threw. They bounced off of trees hand in hand and found refuge at the top branches. They smiled down upon Rudiger while the lumberjack shouted, “You two cowards better get your asses down here and fight me before I cut this fucker down!”

Saito whispered in Tifa’s pointy ear, “You’ve got the supplies up here right?”

The lovely assassin brushed her hair away and pulled several pinecones out of an otherwise empty bird nest. She grinned, “It wouldn’t be the same without them.” With a wink, a nod, and a kiss, Tifa threw one of the pinecones down upon an unsuspecting Rudiger. The biomass exploded in a flash bang upon making contact with Mr. Seran’s thick skull. The giant hopped and head-banged in pain while belting every swear word known in the English language.

“You’re the best queen a man could ask for,” grinned Saito as he and Tifa threw more flash bang pinecones down upon their assailant. Rudiger tried to smack some of them away like he was playing baseball and managed to hit a few homers out in the distance. Others bounced off of his massive arms and legs while popping like firecrackers. The mighty Seran had struck out and his body ached with redness and scars. The King and Queen hugged each other and laughed like children.

Bruised skin wasn’t the only reason Rudiger was seeing red. He growled through clenched teeth and smacked himself on the cheek so many times he actually bled. His rage became evident in the way he swung his axe at the tree, ripping larger chunks out of the redwood and creating deeper wooshing noises. “Uh-oh!” Tifa quipped while she and Saito held hands and leapt to the next tree just in time for Rudiger’s ecocidal victim to crash to the ground.

Saito’s heart pounded in his chest like a war drum and the cold wetness of Tifa’s hand brought chills racing through his own body. She shook slightly and prompted the king to ask, “Are you okay, my love?”

“I…I think so,” Tifa stuttered before the branch underneath her cracked and crunched, causing her to drop to the forest ground with a resounding thud  Saito tried to hold out his hand and grab her, but all he could do was yell, “No!” as his wife crashed and burned. She lied there in the dirt breathing heavily and coughing up a geyser of blood.

Rudiger hung his battleaxe over his shoulder and strutted around Tifa with a shit-eating grin. “I guess that vegan diet isn’t helping you lose enough weight. And people call me a fat ass!” joked the lumberjack while slapping his knee and chuckling again.

Watching Rudiger Seran belittle his wife clouded Saito’s mind with scathing, bloody thoughts. As defenseless as she was, she still threw her claws around in the air hoping to hit something. Her weakness multiplied when Rudiger stomped on Tifa’s hand and crunched it so that it sounded more violent than when he whacked down the tree. Her screams of agony and shame echoed throughout the forest and caused nearby birds to fly away in fear. She tried to slash Rudiger’s thick ankles with her other claw, but that got stomped on too until there was just a bloody heap underneath his work boots.

Saito tried to remain calm and wait for his perfect opportunity to stealthily strike. But Tifa’s screams filled his gut with nuclear heat. Rudiger’s arrogant laughter filled his nerves with flaming gasoline. The more his heart pumped diesel, the more he forgot about the importance of his samurai training. With katana firmly grasped in both hands, he screamed like a demon and leapt on top of Rudiger with the intent to slash him in two vertically.

Saito could feel the ground hurtling at him at a million miles per hour. The landing was going to break his ankles, but not nearly as badly as he was going to break every bone in Rudiger’s body. And then the lumberjack swung his axe and snapped Saito in two from the waist down. The elf samurai could hear his wife roaring his name in pain as his vision went black and his wrecked body bounced off the tree with a deafening splat.

Even as what was left of him slid slowly and slimily down the tree, he could recall Rudiger asking in a mocking tone where all of the elves were at. The now pouring rain soothed Saito’s burning wounds, but it was already too late for the King of Elves and Trees.

The plant root crown slipped off of his sloppy skull and buried itself into the earth below. The rain poured down violently enough to represent the emotions of Mother Nature herself. She continued to weep as Rudiger thoughtlessly cut down more and more of her trees with vicious whacks while mocking her with cries of, “Where are your elves now, bitch?!” Tears of ecocidal agony turned into monsoons and floods. The crowns formerly worn by Tifa and Saito were drenched with nutrition as they began to take root underneath the forest.

The more Rudiger laughed his ass off, the more the roots spread across the ground. Even in the chilling rain, the arrogant giant chopped and chopped like his paycheck was that important too him. Trees crashed to the earth with sickening pounds, so much so that Rudiger was almost done with his work. But as he jokingly wiped away forehead sweat, he took a look around him and saw that his work was only just beginning.

“What the fuck?” he whispered as the tree stumps grew even more beautiful plants. Not redwoods, not roses, not berry-covered bushes, but the one species Rudiger kept asking for this entire time. Ask and ye shall receive in the form of naked green-skinned elves with blistering red eyes and thorn-covered swords. One by one they blossomed from the stumps and groaned like an army of zombies. Rudiger dropped his axe and cowered on the soaked ground, shivering for reasons other than the temperature.

The pathetic display did nothing to back off the hungry doppelganger elves as they chanted in monstrous unison, “You will feed us! You will feed us! You will feed us!” They closer they marched, the brighter their neon red eyes glowed and the more Rudiger shivered and quaked in his clumsy body. And then, the King and Queen’s beloved army of avengers dined upon the giant’s flesh like the entire menu at one of the lumberjack’s planned Mickey D’s. Rudiger’s flesh tasted more delicious than chocolate cake, meatier than a twenty-pound steak, and juicier than a bottle of Ocean Spray. So much for that vegan diet that Tifa Croft always enjoyed.

This Is Violence

Natron gazed up and down the Tower of Hell with not even mild trepidation. So what if it had spikes and demon masks all over the stone structure? So what if it was crawling with monsters bearing razor sharp fangs and claws? So what if Shivo Black was waiting for him at the top with the intent to disembowel him? Natron wasn’t paid to be scared and he wasn’t paid by the hour. Decked out in black ninja gear and light chain mail while twirling a pair of nunchucks to get his cardio going, the elf warrior stared a hole through the front entrance prepared for battle. It may have been his final battle, but if he had to die tonight, he was going down swinging.

“This is violence!” shouted the elf ninja as he kicked down the wooden door of the tower and faced his opponents with venom in his eyes. Just like he predicted, the bottom level was peppered with little goblins crawling about chewing on the flesh of their victims. Natron bolted inside and whacked the hell out of these bloodthirsty beasts with his twirling nunchucks. Skulls splattered like watermelons as blood and brains decorated the already shit-stained walls. Some of the goblins tried to latch onto Natron and chew him like bubblegum, but they were thrown so hard against the wall that they exploded.

Still leaving goblin cannibals clinging from his arms and legs, Natron ignored the sharp pain and rushed up the spiral staircase while bumping against the walls to get the little bastards off of him. Their slimy green skin peeled off with every bounce against the cobblestone and soon they tumbled down the stairs like a battered slinky. The elf had only murder on his mind and bright red in his vision. Adrenaline surged through his veins like a forest fire. His blood was boiling lava ready to spew.

All Natron could think about was slaughtering Shivo Black for his sins against this world. He took a lovely place like the Ivory Tower and turned it into the shit hole that was the Tower of Hell. This tower was once a holy sanctuary for the elven people and a haven from the demonic forces of this apocalyptic nightmare. Now the beautiful religious artwork and tapestry was torn down in favor of retched demonic masks, skulls of the damned, and strung up corpses of the priests and clerics who once lived here. Passing by these dangling bodies caused Natorn’s muscles to bulge and shiver with raw hatred.

“Must kill…must kill…must kill!” Natron repeated to himself over and over again. His next opportunity to kill came in the form of deformed ogres covered in spiked metal armor and carrying tridents into battle with them. One by one these creatures marched down the spiral staircase swearing at Natron in their native grunt language. The first of them thrust his trident in rapid fire succession at the wily ninja. The elf warrior dodged, flipped, and did the splits to avoid getting impaled. He then delivered a ball-shattering nunchuck blow to the ogre’s groin.

The ogre coughed up a liberal amount of blood and vomited all over the stairs before tumbling down them like a bowling ball. Natron front flipped over the hefty body to avoid getting caught in the avalanche of rotten flesh. The narrow staircase only allowed one ogre to come through at a time, but the next one threw even quicker trident shots than the last. Natron dodged and flipped to evade these shots and then wrapped his nunchucks around his opponent’s neck and threw him down the stairs with a bloodletting jerk.

Instead of wasting precious time dodging trident shots like an acrobat, when the next thrust came, Natron flipped on top of the ogre’s head and dashed across the top of the squadron with his steel sole boots. The chubby warriors tried to thrust their tridents upward, but the ninja was too fast and too brutal for them. His boots caved in their skulls and snapped their shoulders. His nunchuck shots popped their eyes out of their heads. By the time he reached the final ogre, he dropped his knees across the creature’s shoulders and slammed him head first into the corner of the stone stairs.

The ogres were little more than a pile of smelly corpses. Those who lived wouldn’t for long as they rolled down the stairs like whiskey barrels. Blood and muck decorated the walls. The creatures’ saggy flesh lay shredded and slashed across the stairs. Natron stood at the top of the spiral with his hands on his hips while he admired his handiwork. Beneath his ninja mask the corners of his mouth formed a sadistic smirk. “This is violence and nothing more,” he said to himself.

Before he could get too complacent, Natron slowly turned his head toward the wooden door which lead to the top level. This door once held a lovely painting of the elven god Io. Now it held the shackled remains of a skeleton with pieces of flesh dangling off the bones and rats chewing on it like it was their last meal. “Shivo!” bellowed Natron. “I know you’re behind that door! You’d better prepare for the ass-kicking of your fucking life!”

With one savage kick, the rats scurried away and the door collapsed to splinters. The broken door revealed a room full of torture devices ranging from the stretching rack to the iron maiden to the guillotine itself. Dead elven clerics were strewn across the top level with their eyes and tongues cut out. Watching this scene made Natron puke a little bit in his mouth. If he wasn’t burning hot with anger before, he was the embodiment of hell itself now.

Sitting across the room in a throne of bone was Shivo Black himself. With his fingers tapping against themselves and a smug look on his demonic face, he didn’t look too worried that Natron had completely leveled his forces. Why would he? Shivo could easily tip the scales at seven feet tall and god knows how many pounds of muscle. His hairy brown flesh, spiraled horns, sharp fangs, and golden armor gave him the appearance of an oppressive warlord. When he stood up and towered over the smaller Natron, the demon king’s muscles pulsated with sadistic might.

“Not even death can save you from me, you little shit weasel!” barked Shivo in a throaty voice. “This tower belongs to me now. Those faggot elves can burn in hell for all I care. Their religion means nothing to me. Their lives mean even less. You’re not a hero to your people. You’re a walking corpse. Time to die, you pathetic child!” The demon spread his metallic wings and soared through the air right at his target.

Natron tucked and rolled on the ground to avoid getting slashed by Shivo’s sword-like claws. It was all the ninja could do since the demon was surprisingly fast for a man his size. Shivo threw heavy kicks that shattered his own torture devices when they failed to hit their intended mark. He breathed fire upon the ninja and Natron tucked and rolled some more. “If you can’t do any better than that, you’re going to lose!” roared Shivo. “Then again, your people should be accustomed to failure by now. They lost their Ivory Tower and now they’re going to lose the last shred of hope their pathetic souls ever had. Die, you little puke! Die!”

Shivo breathed another stream of fire upon Natron, who by this time was huffing and puffing through his mask and drooling wildly to keep his tongue from burning. He had exerted so much energy during this mission that his ribs felt like he was in a sumo wrestler’s bear hug. His legs trembled with such force that he couldn’t stand up all the way. When the ball of fire sailed his way, the fact that Natron collapsed in exhaustion and evaded it that way was pure luck.

King Black folded his massive arms and chuckled in delight. “So this is it, huh?” he said. “This is the man who slaughtered my ogres and goblins like they were small children? I wasn’t expecting comedy tonight, but I’ll take my laughs wherever I can get them.” Shivo flew towards the fallen Natron with his arms extended, intending to impale the ninja upon contact and put and end to this “comedy” as he so eloquently put it.

Lifting his head slowly to see the blades blasting toward him, Natron’s last burst of energy came when he threw a nunchuck shot and shattered Shivo’s claws like glass. The demon screamed in tremendous pain while the tips of his fingers bleed profusely. King Black cursed in his diabolic language while Natron did a weak attempt at a push up to bring himself to his hands and knees. Every little movement felt like he was trying to bench press a small car. He huffed, puffed, and wheezed while struggling to stay on his feet.

“You little piece of shit!” growled Shivo. “I’ll break your ass in half and feed you to my rats!” The demon threw a powerful side kick, but Natron quickly wrapped his nunchucks around the king’s ankle.

With the steel chain cutting off the circulation to Shivo’s legs, Natron gazed at him with nuclear heat and said in a raspy voice, “You know nothing about my people, you ignorant sack of shit!” Natron spun Shivo around by his leg and leaped on the demon’s back before wrapping his nunchuck chain around the beast’s throat. He squeezed with enough tightness to make the guillotine jealous. The iron maiden couldn’t even dream of the sharpness Shivo felt in his lungs. The king’s neck stretched like taffy as his windpipe collapsed into a heap.

When Shivo was down on both knees gasping for air, Natron released his chokehold and allowed the monster to vomit his own blood and organs. With one last twirl, the elf ninja smashed his nunchucks against Shivo’s head and splattered his brains all over the floor while breaking those hideous horns in two. The revenge was complete. The elven race was avenged for their heavy loss. Natron could do nothing but smile with tears in his eyes as he fell backwards into a deep slumber.

This entire scenario played out on a computer screen for a teenaged boy in his bedroom decorated with music posters and dirty laundry. Natron was not only his screen name, but it was one that would be synonymous with gaming greatness. The teenager laughed gently to himself in disbelief that he actually beat this ultra-hard game. He even gave himself a light applause. It was the first time he smiled since his father went away to fight in an overseas war. Daddy was quite the gamer in his day with Super Mario Bros. and Double Dragon to his credit. Now the second generation followed in his footsteps with a victory over the appropriately named This Is Violence.

Now it was time to watch the ending, which was usually the reward for such a hard game. The elf ninja woke up in a bed made of the softest material as sunlight caused him to slowly squint his eyes open. Could this really be? Was the elven name restored to its former glory? No.

Instead he was at the bottom floor of the Tower of Hell once again, this time with living goblins holding the corpse of the teenager’s dead father like a hand puppet. The kid recognized the face, the uniform, the haircut, and most importantly, the bloodstains all over his body. As the goblins laughed and chanted, “You’re daddy’s dead! He’s never coming back!” over and over again, the teenager’s sudden elation at beating the game turned into tear-filled sorrow. His cheeks were hot, his eyes were sore, and his screams were leonine. He even banged on the keyboard like a savage several times for good measure.

Somewhere in the goblins’ song and dance, they managed to throw the last bit of salt on this festering emotional wound: “April fools!” The teenager’s raging tears poured like the blood of the elf ninja’s enemies. In a way, he wished he was dead instead of his father. Maybe if he could find a belt somewhere in his room, he could see him again. Wiping away the tears and sucking up the snot in his nose, the teen sat in his computer chair with his head hung low not knowing what the fuck to do. His heart was in more pieces than the skulls of the ogres on the staircase.

Now that he thought about it, This Is Violence wasn’t an official game made by a reputable company. It was given to the kid by a “friend”. The game showed just how friendly it could be when the elf ninja took over the screen and spoke to Natron like he knew him. “Are you going to let those bastards talk to you like that? The world hates you, Natron, but we don’t. Your dad didn’t die because of a war. He died because of the politicians who sent him to war. You need revenge. You need it badly. Come join our outfit and we’ll show you how to get revenge. It’ll be just as bloody and delicious as this game turned out to be. You’ve already completed the first step. Now you can be your own ninja and start a worldwide revolution. Come join ISIS!”

The teenager gazed at the computer screen still sniffing and snorting. He never felt more offended in his life, not when the jocks shoved him around at school, not when the cyber bullies picked on his art work online. What that ninja said was vile, sadistic, and borderline insane. Yet to the kid known as Natron, those words made the most sense out of any “so-called” loved one he knew. “Let’s do this!” he said to the computer screen.

Demon Axe, Epilogue

Every night since Demon Axe’s final concert, all Daniel Mercer could see was the same creature chasing him down the Holy Mountains. His assailant’s face was dripping with blood that was lapped up with a lizard tongue. The creature’s wings were metallic with blade tips at the end of every feather. His fingers were spikes wrapped in barbed wire.

Despite having all of these weapons at his disposal, the creature always carried a bloodstained machete, a weapon that has claimed thousands of lives and traumatized even more. This blade did more damage than any nuclear bomb ever could. In the face of such a brutal tool of destruction, all Daniel could do was run as fast as he could while struggling for fresh oxygen. He tasted his own blood each time he gasped for air. His ribs crackled and popped like he was running on bubble wrap. His anus burned from sodomy and was a constant source of yuk-yuk humor for the blade-wielding beast.

One night, Daniel couldn’t run anymore. He tripped over his own exhausted legs and laid on the gravely ground heaving and spitting up blood. He was ready for death to take him away to a far better place. This version of hell was more painful to him than the pyrocosm certain religions imagined. “Take me now,” begged Daniel. “Kill me, damn it!”

The creature slowly and mockingly stalked its prey with the machete raised high in the air. One slash would be all it took to send Daniel to a more peaceful backdrop. One painful slash that would last all but a few seconds before eternal darkness swallowed Daniel’s vision. And then the creature tossed its weapon to the side while ripping away at its face, sending bloody chunks every which way and making the Holy Mountains more hellish than they needed to be.

Underneath all of that rancid horror was the loveliest, most beautiful face Daniel had ever seen. Long black hair, cherry-colored lips, creamy green skin, and radiant eyes that only an angel could possess. It was the pointed ears that gave this woman away, however. Not even the blindest of the blind could mistake those quirky ears. And that voice…”Hello? Hello? Is there anybody in there?”

A flood of white light brushed across Daniel’s field of vision and the scene changed from diabolic torment to waking up in a hospital bed. The Demon Axe leader screamed as he sat up in his bed, but breathed more calmly once he realized where he was. The room was dark, but he could still see the rows of flowers left behind during his time of slumber. He lifted up his hospital gown and saw a nasty-looking surgical scar across his torso. With a delicate touch, he felt his ribcage and noticed there were metal plates and screws where his bones used to be. Breathing heavily didn’t hurt as much then as it did when Roger broke his ribs.

Daniel plopped backward in his bed and breathed continual sighs of relief. The nightmare was over. The trauma would last longer once the initial relief wore off, but for this moment, he truly felt safe and relaxed.

There was a gentle knock on the door before Raven let herself in. Instead of wearing her battle outfit, she was dressed in royal red robes adorned with runic symbols and an emerald-encrusted crown atop her head. Daniel had naughty thoughts about his girlfriend’s new look, but tried not to get too hung up on it given the circumstances. Raven whispered, “Daniel, you’re finally awake. Thank goodness you’re okay, my love.” She tiptoed up to him and gave a warm hug, but lightly enough so as not to aggravate the metal singer’s injuries.

Daniel hugged her back and didn’t want to let go of his newfound queen. But when he finally did, he asked, “How long have I been asleep? It feels like forever.”

“You were in a coma for a whole year. The doctors didn’t think you were going to live through the surgery. But you’ve proven what my father knew about you all along: you’re a fighter, Daniel. You’re a no-nonsense warrior with so much left to do,” said Raven with a beautiful smile.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Daniel with a sheepish grin. “But seriously though…how am I supposed to rule a whole kingdom when I can’t even get out of bed? What the hell’s been going on while I was asleep?”

Raven sniffled a little bit before saying, “Father finally passed away. I knew it was going to happen sooner or later, but it still hurts to this day. I’ve taken over the throne in his absence, but also in yours. Daniel, I can’t do this by myself. You’re the one who gave my people hope. You’re the one they trust the most. You were directly responsible for ending the nightmare that was Roger Zee.”

“Come on, Raven, you knew I had help,” said Daniel with another sheepish expression.

“Yes, you did have help, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t play a huge part in the outcome. Everybody needs help whether it’s with saving the world or getting over psychological trauma. And now I’m asking you, Daniel, to help me run the elven kingdom. I understand you need more time to recover. But this elf society is a team effort. We’re all in this together. We have to rebuild our structures and bring peace to the land once more. I’d love for you to be a part of that, Daniel.”

The Lord of the Pit stared into Raven’s gorgeous eyes with so many pros and cons to consider. Was he really ready for this kind of responsibility? Was he ready to exchange his role as a victim for that of a courageous leader? These questions weighed more heavily on his heart that the metal plates protecting his surgically-reconstructed ribs.

Another light knock on the door later and a whole host of friends came to see Daniel had finally awakened. Tiger Man, Snowball, and Bone Warrior were still dressed in their monk robes and terrifying masks while Shawn Henry wore metal armor with a sheriff’s badge emblazoned on the chest.

The detective smiled at Daniel while carrying a plate of hospital food that looked too good to have come from such a place. “Danny boy, what’s up? Glad you’re finally awake! Here, have some dinner.”

The singer gave an awkward look to the contents of the plate once it was placed in his lap. Mashed potatoes and asparagus weren’t the most triggering thing on the menu. It was when he picked up a rack of barbecued beef ribs that he chuckled nervously and uttered a squeaky, “Thanks?”

Shawn asked, “What’s wrong, Daniel? Too soon?”

Holding his thumb and forefinger together, the patient said, “It might be just a little bit too soon.”

Bone Warrior opened his robe to reveal a full skeletal suit underneath and asked, “So this isn’t cool either?”

The entire room busted up laughing, including a weak attempt at a chuckle from Daniel, who said, “Actually, that’s fucking awesome.” His smile grew wider when he said, “You guys are the best. I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

Snowball leaned on Daniel’s bed and asked, “So when are you getting out of this damn thing? We’ve got an album to record and a kingdom to run. That’s two jobs at once, buddy. We’ve already got the guitars, bass, and drums recorded. We just need those sweet ass vocals of yours. Are you up for doing two jobs at once?” After shrugging silence from Daniel, Snowball said, “Come on, big boy! You killed Roger Zee like the badass you are! You can do anything!”

The Lord of the Pit gazed around the room with so much responsibility in his hands. He took in the scent of every lavender flower left behind for him, no doubt from fans and/or elf constituents. He looked at his soon-to-be wife with a combination of love and lust in his eyes. He nodded at Shawn as a sign of confidence for his newfound role as elven sheriff. The only three people left to consider were the ones staring him in the face with those evil, vile masks. These three guys looked every bit as awesome as Daniel’s band mates of the past, most notably from the first incarnation of Demon Axe to the short-lived Demon Death Juice. They also looked tough enough to hang in a wrestling ring with Johnny Vega and Sonia Marquez, may they rest more peacefully than Daniel did in his coma.

Taking everything into consideration, Daniel P. Mercer a.k.a. The Lord of the Pit had one last request: “Get me my goddamn face paint. We’ve got lots of shit to do and little time to do it in. Fuck it, I’m ready!”