Matt Mitrione: His Hate-Boner for Fallon Fox Turned Out to Be a Real One

 

You're Not Good Enough Book Tag

***YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH BOOK TAG***

The only reason why I know this tag exists is because Lily C Reads did a You Tube video of it two years ago. It looked like a shit ton of fun and Lily is a funny motherfucker in this video, so I figured I should do this tag too. The rules are simple: create a roster of thirty book characters of your choosing and randomly choose two of them to answer each of the fifteen questions. Are you ready? I know I am!

1. You only have one more spot on your Spelling Bee team, who would you pick to complete your team?

Options: Rick Hunter (Robotech) or Charlie (The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky)

Choice: Two guys who can’t figure out their love lives, but only one of them takes an interest in writing and literature. This one’s easy: Charlie. Although, I might change my mind if one of the words is Zentradae (even I don’t know how to spell that).

2. Both characters want to kill you, which one would you kill first so you have a better chance of surviving?

Options: Julie (Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion) or Deckard Cain (Diablo series)

Choice: Julie is a tried and true survivalist and Deckard Cain is an old man with bad joints. Hmm…which one is the greater threat to me? Sorry, Julie, but you’re taking the dirt nap tonight. My dead cat Smokey is a bigger threat to me than Deckard Cain ever will be.

3. You’re on the bachelor/bachelorette and you’re down to these two characters, which one are you going to give your rose too?

Options: Ava Bigtree (Swamplandia by Karen Russell) or The Woman (The Woman by Jack Ketchum)

Choice: So basically, you’re asking me to choose between statutory rape and the possibility of getting my guts ripped out. Sorry, ladies, you two are on your own. I’d rather be forced to choose between death and unga-bunga (only to get killed via unga-bunga).

4. You’ve been chosen for the Hunger Games, who would most likely volunteer in your place?

Options: Skink (Carl Hiaasen’s books) or Batman

Choice: This one’s a tough call since they’re both certified badasses and can rip an opponent to shreds within seconds. Ultimately, I’ll have to go with Skink since he’s used to survivalist scenarios, ergo why he lives out in the woods in Florida wearing just a shower cap and a raincoat.

5. You’re stranded on an island. Which character would you sacrifice to engage in cannibalism?

Options: Abby Abernathy (Walking Disaster by Jamie McGuire) or Christian Grey (Fifty Shades of Grey)

Choice: The sexual overtones in this question and its choices are more obvious than a boner on the subway. But since Christian Grey has more muscle on his body, his sacrifice will last longer, so I’m going to choose him. Plus, he’s a grade A douche, so nobody will miss him.

6. You’re the next DC/Marvel superhero (with your own tv show of course), who is your sidekick?

Options: Anastasia Steele (Fifty Shades of Grey) or Peeta Mellark (The Hunger Games)

Choice: This one’s a no-brainer if I ever saw one. I’m going with Peeta the ass-kicking machine. If I went with Anastasia, it’s basically giving my opponents a license to shoot me. I think I’d rather be tortured by a supervillain than listen to Ana’s whining throughout our demise.

7. You’re a manager of an Avocado admiring company, who would you fire for lack of communication skills?

Options: Sonya Blade (Mortal Kombat) or Tulip O’Haire (Preacher)

Choice: I’m being asked to choose between two badass women who would cut me from asshole to appetite if I crossed them. But as far as communication skills go, I’d cut Sonya from the team since Tulip has a way with raunchy dialogue. I need all the swear words I can muster up if I’m going to admire avocado.

8. You’ve just finished a book in which your favorite character dies, which character is most likely to comfort you?

Options: Margo Roth Spiegelman (Paper Towns by John Green) or Kick-Ass

Choice: Kick-Ass would probably tell me to suck it up and be a man, so he’d be of no help. The only way I could justify choosing Margo is if I can fucking find her, wherever she is. She kind of has a knack for making herself scarce when her friends need her the most. And even if you do find her…ugh…

9. Ugh, it’s high school. Who would most likely be part of the popular clique?

Options: Marlon Bundo (John Oliver and Jill Twiss’s version of A Day in the Life of Marlon Bundo) or Twilight Lady (Watchmen)

Choice: Hmm…a gay rabbit or a seductive female pimp? Well, since popular cliques in high school tend to be more shallow minded, I’m giving the nod to Twilight Lady since she can hook up the horny teenagers with sex and fun. I’d actually fear for Marlon Bundo’s safety since popular kids love to bully LGBT students.

10. The day has arrived; you’re finally a year older! Who would have the nerve to forget your birthday?

Options: Clarice Starling (Silence of the Lambs) or Scorpion (Mortal Kombat)

Choice: Scorpion doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anybody’s birthdays since he’s too busy breathing fire on his opponents and sticking harpoons through their chests. I’m giving him the nod, obviously. At least with Clarice Starling, it’s forgivable if she forgets your birthday because she’s always busy catching criminals. Being a detective is stressful work.

11. You’ve just found an upcoming booktube star? Who would most likely be?

Options: Cherry Pye (Star Island by Carl Hiaasen) or Tobias Kaya (The Savior’s Champion by Jenna Moreci)

Choice: I’m not sure Cherry Pye even knows how to fucking read. She’s a dumbass pop star with a shallow point of view and no talent, so she doesn’t have much of a chance. Tobias, on the other hand, is a little more scholarly since he has a background as an artist. Plus, he’d be a hit with the female You Tube audience.

12. Sleepover time! Unfortunately you can only invite one person, who would you invite?

Options: Alex De Large (A Clockwork Orange) or Scout Finch (To Kill a Mockingbird)

Choice: So you’re asking me to sleep with either a serial rapist or a young child. No matter what I choose, somebody’s going to jail whether it’s me or Alex. I’m calling this one a draw so that I can spare myself the embarrassment.

13. Bam, you’re pregnant. Who’s the father/mother?

Options: Lisa Hayes (Robotech) or Rorschach (Watchmen)

Choice: If you give a child to Rorschach, you might as well schedule an abortion right now. He might not like that very much since he’s a rightwing nut job and a violent lunatic, but he’ll have to get over it. Lisa Hayes, on the other hand, is gentle enough to be a fitting mother. I think she might have actually had children with Rick Hunter in the Robotech canon, but I’m not sure.

14. You’ve just written a super important text. Who would ‘see’ it, but not reply?

Options: Yum Yum (Lilian Jackson Braun’s Cat Who book) or Sneaky Pie Brown (Rita Mae Brown’s books)

Choice: Both characters are cats, so it all boils down to who the bigger diva is and even then it’s a tough decision. This one’s another draw since they’d be too distracted by laser pens.

15. You’ve just woken up and it’s time for breakfast. Your mum’s been replaced by who?!

Options: Koko (Lilian Jackson Braun’s Cat Who books) or Sean King (David Baldacci’s King & Maxwell series)

Choice: Let’s see here? Who would make a better breakfast for me: a fucking cat or a human being with actual cooking skills? If I chose Koko, I’d probably have a dead bird or mouse served on a plate for me. With Sean King, I’d get eggs and bacon no problem. Let’s see…this is a tough one…

And just like that it’s over. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

(RE: Rachel Oates video)

JAMES: I’m telling Mom you’re watching a piss fetish video.

GARRISON: That’s not what it is! She’s debunking urine therapy!

JAMES: Then how come you closed it after I came in here?

GARRISON: Because I can’t watch it as long as you’re using my computer.

JAMES: You can still leave it open. What, are you watching porn?

GARRISON: That’s not what it is!

JAMES: Uh-huh. Sure! After I’m done printing my homework, you can keep watching your piss fetish video.

GARRISON: Goddamn it, James!

"Mortal Kombat X, Vol. 1" by Shawn Kittelsen

BOOK TITLE: Mortal Kombat X, Vol. 1: Blood Ties

AUTHOR: Shawn Kittelsen

YEAR: 2015

GENRE: Graphic Novel

SUBGENRE: Martial Arts Dark Fantasy

GRADE: Mixed

Normally, the first paragraph of these reviews would be a brief synopsis in my own words (rather than copying it from the back of the book). However, there’s so much going on in this graphic novel that it’s hard to piece it all together in one paragraph. Yes, there’s a war brewing between the earth and outer realms. Yes, they involve blood daggers that turn their wielders into psychotic savages. And yes, old characters from the Mortal Kombat videogame franchise make an appearance in one way or another. Something tells me that in order to understand what the hell’s going on here, you have to be familiar with earlier materials (even though this is the first volume). I’ve never actually played the first three Mortal Kombat games, but I’ve watched other people play them on You Tube, so I have a general idea of who the characters are and why I should give a damn about them. But those are the only three games I’ve seen up close. It’s because of this mass confusion and chaotic storytelling that this graphic novel earns a mixed grade at best.

But what the book lacks in coherent storylines, it makes up for tenfold with the violent action sequences. Bodies are getting ripped in half, hearts are being eaten, heads are being chopped off, bones are being broken, and that’s just a warm-up. Hell, the daggers that corrupt the minds of their owners do so by traveling through their blood. “The flesh is a lie!” as one warrior so delicately put it. There’s so much blood and gore in this graphic novel that vampires would use this as their own version of Playboy magazines. Then again, this level of ultra-violence is to be expected from a franchise where Sub-Zero rips the spinal column and skull out of his opponents’ bodies in the very first game. This kind of bloodlust had politicians and activists up in arms in the early 90’s, so the graphic novel will do nothing to sooth their sensitive sides.

The positives of this graphic novel are purely superficial, unless of course you have a better grasp of the storyline than I do. You get bonus points if you can remember everybody’s names, let alone the names of the artifacts scattered throughout the story. If someone can explain this to me and make me feel like an idiot watching Jeopardy, I will be your own personal janitor for a month. I’ll mop your floors and clean your toilets…with my tongue. Okay, maybe that whole stipulation is a tough bet, but you get the idea. The graphic novel is enjoyable, but confusing at the same time. This kind of yin-yang dynamic is what makes me want to give the work a mixed grade.

The Theomancer

Krimson hated the way the masked snowmen were looking at him. Each of them were lined up on either side of the Frigid Highlands with skeletal masks that glowed an eerie shade of purple. The red ninja balled up his cannonball fist and knocked one of the snowmen’s block off. Underneath the shattered head revealed the dead body of one of his brethren. Members of the proud Raven Strike Society were buried underneath the guise of snowmen. The thought made Krimson sick to his stomach.

This was no time for such a weak reaction. With his red ninja gear, steel boots and gloves, demonic mask, and straw triangle hat, Krimson was dressed for battle. He stomped his way up the snowy hill, glaring with electrified eyes at each of the snowmen. Such disrespectful desecration, Krimson thought to himself. His blue-skinned muscles and bright green aura brought out his deathly side, which he would need for this upcoming battle.

The top of the hill was book-ended by the tallest snowman of all with his bladed mouth, cross-decorated black pope’s hat, and purple cloak that blew in the frosty winds. Krimson folded his arms like he was the true giant and spoke callously to the creature before him. “You must be the one they call The Theomancer. Seven is obviously to cowardly to come greet me himself, so he sends this popsicle to do his bidding. Seven is just like any other god: too afraid to come out of hiding when he’s needed the most. I intend to beat the answers I want out of him and you’re in my way, Theomancer. Are you ready to get your skull cracked in?” That last line was accented with Krimson cracking his bumpy knuckles.

The snowman’s eyes glowed with each piece of dialogue. “You claim followers of Sevenism are delusional, yet here you are thinking you can simply beat answers out of our lord and prophet. Even if you were to somehow have contact with him, the foundation of our religion has already been laid. No money-hungry king or bloodthirsty queen will ever give up their faith just because you’re foolish enough to venture to these sacred lands looking for a fight. Each of these snowmen contains the spirits of those who were even stupider than you. What makes you so special, human?”

“You want to talk about deities? You’re looking at one. I am Krimson, the God of Vengeance. I associate with the Raven Strike Society not because of their heretical beliefs, but because a world under their leadership will thrive while a world under Sevenism will crumble into dust. You’re standing in the way of that goal and for that you will pay.” Krimson held his steel fists up in a boxing stance while electrical and fiery energy flowed through them.

“If you want to complete your kamikaze mission so badly, be my guest. But know this: you’re not fighting with any mere mortal. You’re not even fighting with the Theomancer. Yeti is what I’m called. With Seven as my witness, I shall rip your heart from your chest and feast on it like a barbaric meal!” Cracks began to form in Yeti’s snowy shell, each of them glowing with a brilliant yellow light. The shell continued to crack until an explosive storm of ice and snow showered upon Krimson, who kept his arms in his face to block the assaulting weather.

No more was the Theomancer. In his place was a seven-foot tall mummy with slimy green skin, glowing yellow eyes, and razor-sharp fangs with maggots crawling around them. Yeti flexed his muscles and cracked his own neck before getting in a defensive stance and waving for Krimson to come at him.

“Let’s do this!” roared the God of Vengeance, whose chilling glare never erased from his face. Krimson rushed into battle with a flying kick that sent an aftershock of pain throughout Yeti’s body, yet the mighty mummy never moved. The red ninja continued throwing rapid fire punches and kicks around Yeti’s legs while the hulking creature tried swatting around the smaller opponent’s head.

Krimson dodged every swipe by ducking and rolling on the frostbitten ground. He could not avoid having both of Yeti’s hands grab his throat and hoist him in the air. Yeti glared at the God of Vengeance with a piercing gaze and rancid shit breath. Krimson broke free from the chokehold by placing a hard knee into Yeti’s elbow. The mummy growled in pain as his arm bent in a direction it wasn’t supposed to go. He grabbed himself by the wrist and popped it back into place, much to the disgust of Krimson, who had a hard time catching his breath.

While the red ninja was on the ground clutching his chest and wheezing, Yeti threw a hard soccer kick only to have Krimson cartwheel out of the way. The God of Vengeance launched his thick head into Yeti’s knee before throwing an uppercut to the giant’s groin. Yeti hauled back and screamed to the sky in unbearable pain, but only for a short while. He ducked his head down to meet Krimson’s gaze.

The red ninja felt queasy after smelling his opponent’s breath so many times in this fight. He clutched his stomach and resisted the urge to puke his guts out all over the snow. This time Yeti threw a kick and knocked the ninja backwards, rolling him down the hill and causing him to lose his lunch along the way. He sprayed a few snowmen with his stomach acids and melted their faces.

It had been a long and tiring roll to the bottom of the hill. Krimson laid there weak and helpless while Yeti was tromping down the hill looking to end this fight. The ninja’s vision was blurry at best and dark at worst. He was sure he’d join these snowmen in this blatant disrespect for the dead. And that was when he saw the faces of those he threw up on. The stomach acid ate the snow off their faces and caused the masks to drop.

Men, women, children, animals, all of them represented by these mummified snowmen. The markings on some of the adults’ uniforms suggested they were priests and took a vow of pacifism. They came to this sacred ground just to negotiate and bring peace to an otherwise violent world. They did nothing wrong. They were just innocents caught up in the crossfire. They were somebody’s son or daughter. They were somebody’s wife or husband. The dog corpses sickened Krimson to where he’d want to throw up again. The dogs had less at stake than the priests and they were viciously murdered and desecrated anyways.

Krimson felt a clawed hand reach for the back of his uniform and hold him up high. There it was again: that sewage-like smell. It was the feeling of eating rotten fruit that had been urinated on. It was the feeling of performing oral sex on a diseased phallus with open sores. That breath. That horrible Yeti’s breath. The red ninja didn’t think he had anymore food left in his stomach after smelling something like that. Instead he blew out naked stomach acid all over Yeti’s face.

The mummy’s eyes burned to where he had to release his grip of Krimson’s uniform. The red ninja plummeted on the soft snow below while his adversary danced around in pain like his face was on fire. Feeling weak himself, the red ninja didn’t think he could make it back to his feet. But slowly and with every last ounce of strength left, he was standing tall and striking his deadly pose yet again, renewed by the anger of his lost brethren.

“Seven! I’m coming for you, you sick son of a bitch!” shouted Krimson before throwing several haymakers and roundhouse kicks at Yeti’s breaking body. Cracks formed in his skin like broken pottery. Blood oozed out of him like spoiled fruit juice. Punches and kicks to the head, chest, arms, and legs, all of them with brutal speed and ursine strength. The assault ended when Yeti crumbled to the ground and bled all over the snow, his body nothing more than a pile of wrappings.

“Where are you, Seven?! Show yourself! Answer for your sins, you disgusting pig!” Krimson shouted to the sky, huffing and puffing after such an exhausting battle, not to mention the heavy vomiting that saved his life as well as weakened him. He dropped to one knee and glared harshly at the pile of wrappings. A victory well-earned, he thought to himself.

Out of the mummy bandages emerged a mere mortal of a man dressed in a black trench coat and black hat, both of which contrasted with his pasty white skin. Krimson stared at him in shock and then looked again at the mummy wrappings to see that the cracks and “blood” were all just part of a metal costume. “What the hell is the meaning of this?!” Krimson demanded.

“You called out the name of Seven. Now you’ve found him,” said the pasty individual with a wicked grin. “There was never any paradise. There was never any hope at salvation. Sevenism is a business model and nothing more. Just like any religion, it was a business model for controlling the masses. And they fell for it hook, line, and sinker. You can call me a prophet if you want, but I’m really just a salesman with too much time on his hands.”

Krimson pointed a nervous finger at Seven and said, “You…you son of a bitch…what have you done?! I’ll kill you!”

“Go ahead! Take your best shot!” dared Seven. “But what will killing me prove? Like I’ve told you before, the foundations of Sevenism are already in place. If you kill me, there will be another prophet slash salesman to represent my created religion. And another. And another. And another. Somebody is always willing to go down for the cause. And our cause is business! Business is booming!”

“This isn’t happening! No!” shouted Krimson.

“Oh, it is happening, my friend. I’m sure you’ll want to tell all of your friends about it, even those at the Raven Strike Society. Those atheistic fools are already set in their ways. But what about the rest of us who need Sevenism to get through our days? Will they be so trusting? Sure, why wouldn’t they trust the God of Vengeance? I’ll tell you why. Because you’re no god. You’re just a prophet like me and everyone who represents my religion.”

“You bastard!” shouted Krimson as he charged toward Seven, only to get a knife to his stomach by the false prophet. The ninja’s stomach was already aching from vomiting so much, and now his innards were spilling all over the snow as Seven gutted him alive. The ninja dropped to his knees and fell on his face in a slow and gory death.

Seven looked down at him, shook his head, and laughed like the super villain he was. “Time to make another snowman!” he said before licking the blood off of his knife in a lustful manner.

Perfectionism vs. Word Vomit

***PERFECTIONISM VS. WORD VOMIT***

If you’re a budding author, you’ve probably heard this piece of advice before: “Write every day. It doesn’t matter if it’s carefully chiseled out or the worst thing written in the history of the world. Let the editors take care of your mistakes.” A lot of professional authors say this and for a lot of rookies this advice works. This is just my preference, but this particular piece of advice doesn’t work for me.

If I write something, I want it to be golden from the start. While it’s true that no first draft is perfect the first time around, I at least want to try to make it into the best thing I can. This is why I don’t write everyday: because there are some days where my brain is so foggy that I can’t produce that perfect piece of writing. To my way of thinking, if I can’t be good at what I do, then what’s the point? Do my editors really want to go through the nightmare of cleaning up my messes?

If you’ve ever seen my drawings before, you would ask why I don’t take the perfectionism route with them given their weird quality. Yes, it’s true that my drawings don’t always look like golden goose eggs. But that doesn’t mean I don’t try. That’s the important thing for me: while I’ll never be 100% perfect, I at least have to try my hardest. Editing will be much easier if I actually make an effort to produce a good piece of art.

But like I said earlier, this approach to art doesn’t work for everybody, but it works for me. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I used to have a huge ego back in my college days. It’s true: even the smallest criticisms would make me retreat into my safe place, and this was in my late teens and early twenties. When my creative nonfiction teacher asked the class, “How many people here don’t think their own writing sucks?” I was the only person who raised my hand. Of course, my big ego didn’t match up with my writing skills at the time, because I wasn’t a diehard reader yet. Instead of having high self-esteem, I was arrogant, both of which are two separate things.

As I got older, I realized that being overly arrogant was a terrible approach to writing, because I desperately needed to let my critics into my inner circle in order to get better. That’s when I reached out to Second Draft Critique Services (a subdivision of Writer’s Digest) for help. Of course, their services were quite expensive, so I could only submit short stories. I was nervous at first, but when I actually read their critiques, I was confident that I could make chicken salad out of chicken shit. That’s the difference between arrogance and self-esteem: arrogance means you’re the king of the world and self-esteem means you believe you can grow from anything.

But if it’s true that I don’t have a massively inflated ego anymore, why do I still feel the need to be a perfectionist? I guess the easy answer would be that old habits die hard. Then again, if I didn’t believe in myself at least a little, I wouldn’t be writing in today’s world. I’ve had my fair share of evil criticisms and it would have been easy to give into those people. But being stubborn and full of fire got me through those hard times. Only years later did I realize that positivity and kindness were the answers, not hatred and anger.

So it stands to reason that if I write word vomit as opposed to the perfect product, I would have sufficient self-esteem to believe that I can fix it and make it shine. I’ll grant you that, but consider this: if I write the perfect product, I won’t have nearly as much work to do when the time comes to edit. Editing can either mean a few grammar corrections or a complete overhaul of the story. To make the process less intimidating either way, I take the perfectionist approach to my writing.

I know full well that first drafts will always have mistakes. The current first draft versions of “Watch You Burn” and “Filter Feeder” read like acid trips. While being on drugs may or may not be a heavenly experience (I wouldn’t know), that’s not the feeling I want to give my readers. It may work for Pink Floyd’s music, but not me. I’m not Roger Waters or David Gilmour no matter how hard I try to be.

There’s another thing that I try to practice: not using other artists’ transgressions as excuses to do them myself. I watched Pulp Fiction as a teenager, so my very first movie script “Pumping Filter” had a bunch of swearing, violence, and racial slurs, all of which didn’t need to be there. Because it could never have been perfect, I abandoned the script altogether. Another example would be me listening to Immortal Technique’s music and thinking it’s okay to use homophobic slurs in my poetry. If you want to use creative fuel, make sure you analyze it first and run it through your mental filters. Because I couldn’t do that just yet, many of my hateful poems are no longer in my archives. Thank god.

So now the question of the day is, are you a perfectionist yourself or do you allow your writing to truly be a first draft? I’d love to hear other opinions on this subject whether you agree with me or not. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

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

When my brain finally agrees to cooperate with me, I’ll write something for the “snow man” prompt called “The Theomancer”. It goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

1. Krimson, Red Ninja
2. Yeti, Mummy Giant
3. Seven, Prophet of Sevenism

PROMPT CONFORMITY: There are snowmen all over The Frigid Highlands, each of them with creepy decorations.

SYNOPSIS: The true identity of Krimson is unknown, but he is believed to be an emissary of the Raven Strike Society. They are a secret organization of atheists dedicated to disproving the beliefs of Sevenism, the religion of choice for oppressive authority figures in this dystopian fantasy world. Krimson ventures to the Frigid Highlands to assassinate Yeti, the gatekeeper to Seven’s paradise. The battle between these two warriors is fierce and intense, but Krimson is determined to get answers and revenge from Lord Seven himself. The red ninja is believed to be a deity in human form, which is why he’s having moderate success against Yeti in the first place.

FUN FACT: This story draws inspiration from the Mortal Kombat and WCW franchises from the 1990’s. Krimson is a red palette swap of MK ninjas Sub-Zero and Scorpion while Yeti is the direct theft of a WCW wrestler of the same name. Seven is also taken from a former WCW wrestler, this time one of the alter egos of Dustin Rhodes. All I needed was an excuse to use the title “Theomancer” and now I have a reasonable story idea.

***TWITTER WAR OF THE DAY***

TWITTER TROLL: You’re a professional wrestler. Lift some weights or do sit-ups. Good God!

BARON CORBIN: It’s your girl’s fault. She keeps bringing cookies over late at night.

Misty Blades

NAME: Misty Blades
AGE: 31
OCCUPATION: Fox Ninja
CANON: Final Fantasy Hardcore 2


Misty Blades came from the same batch of animal warrior villains as Jacob Slash. In this case, she was formerly known as Atir Mystblade and she was scheduled to be a kitsune ninja. I have no idea where I got the idea to create a bunch of animal warriors, but the influence for Misty Blades could easily be traced to Magic: the Gathering. This was around 2005 and 2006, so this would have been the time where Hasbro was releasing Japanese-themed cards such as samurais, ninjas, dragons, demons, and of course, anthropomorphic animals. The Kitsune Blademaster, a fox samurai with first strike and bushido 1, was one of my favorite cards to use in white decks and could have very well been the inspiration for Misty Blades even though Misty is a ninja and not a samurai.

Seeing as how Final Fantasy Hardcore 2 went defunct before I had the chance to use my animal warrior bosses, Misty didn’t get much of a chance to shine. She has no background information, no storyline involvement, and no real reason for being created in the first place. All I wanted was a fox ninja who could slash shit up and get the fuck out of dodge before anybody caught her. Foxes are cool. Ninjas are cool. Fox ninjas are really goddamn cool! She had a lot of buzz generated, but I didn’t know what to do with her. She was comparable to CM Punk, who was signed to WWE right around the time Misty Blades was conceived (2005-2006). Punk earned a lot of fame around the world, but was creatively stifled in WWE because nobody knew what to do with him.

I’m not going to let Misty Blades leave my creative world the same way CM Punk left WWE after being battered, bruised, and sore for many years. Don’t get me wrong; Misty is going to take a beating one way or another, but not for the wrong reasons. Misty is going to count for something. In the case of her next story (which would in reality be her first one), she will play the role of a villain. Yes, foxes are cute and don’t normally act like villains, but then again, some ninjas do act like villains. And if I completely have to strip Misty of her cute factor, I could always give her razor-sharp teeth, drooling rabies, and neon green eyes. Seriously, what’s it going to take for my audience to see how dangerous and how bitchy this fox woman is? Her last name is Blades, for Christ’s sake.

So what kind of villainy role could we give to Misty and flesh out her resume a little bit? She could be a heartless mercenary. She could assassinate someone for political reasons. Hell, let’s combine those two things and make her into one badass bitch! It worked perfectly for Mileena from Mortal Kombat 2. Yes, Mileena looks nice on the outside, but when she takes off her mask and reveals her sword-like teeth and witch-like nose, you’d better run for the fucking hills, my friend! Maybe that’s what it takes for Misty Blades to be a convincing villain. She could easily be a fox version of Mileena! Oh, my inner geek is going nuts right now! If I’m not careful, I could have a nerd-gasm all over my keyboard! Actually, having any kind of orgasm for Mileena is virtually impossible (unless you leave her mask on, of course).

What about the weapons Misty will carry? We know she’s going to use a sword since most ninjas do. But what if the edges on that sword were jagged and bloody? What if she was using nunchucks made of thigh bones? Or a ribcage shield? Or a flail that’s really just someone’s spinal column and skull? How about a shuriken made entirely out of monster teeth? If your inner geek is ready for a mental institution just like mine is, get ready for this: a spear with deer antlers at the end instead of a steel tip! Or a whip that’s really a live snake! With all of these possibilities for her character and her weapon choices, it makes me wonder why she was unemployed in the first place! Hehe!

The last thing I’ll harangue you guys with his Misty’s dialogue. When I write dialogue for my characters, I try to make it as realistic as possible. If I wanted to add some witty dialogue for a character with a sharp tongue, I could very well do that. But would that work for a monstrous fox like Misty? I’m leaning towards grunts and gurgles, myself. Or she can have no dialogue at all. Or she could swear up a storm. It would have to be something crude enough to make her a monster and mysterious enough to make her a ninja. Maybe a steel tongue isn’t the best option for her. Oh well, there are other characters I can give snappy dialogue to. No sweat!

When I was looking for post-college employment from 2010 to 2013, the only experience I had was educational. Since I’ve never had paid employment before, I had to enhance my resume to make my education look like a blessing straight from the heavens. I wasn’t successful in finding a job. However, I did a little resume enhancement with Misty Blades despite her not being experienced. The difference is, Misty is going to make her mark sooner rather than later. And that mark is probably going to be a trail of blood, bones, and vomit leading all the way to the tip of her jagged sword. Yikes!

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“We were born and bred to rip and shred!”

-Konnor, one half of The Ascension-

Isao Qing

Isao Qing is one of the few characters in my arsenal who I consider to be a “double agent”. In other words, I’ve used his name in two different stories for two different characters. He was a ghost ninja villain in Say Goodbye and a former welterweight MMA champion in a Dungeons & Dragons session I did with internet friends. Perhaps these two personalities can do a “fusion-ha!” like they do in Dragon Ball Z. Then again, I haven’t seen very many ghosts in mixed-martial arts. Being undead would give them an unfair edge, despite the fact there’s a UFC fighter who calls himself “The Korean Zombie”. Oh well.

In the modern fantasy movie script Say Goodbye, Isao Qing was a lackey for the main villain of the story, a pig warlock named Zod Ragefist. Zod saw all of his minions as disposable commodities, but Isao Qing in his ghostly ninja glory was far from worthless. When bounty hunters go after his boss in the fetid jungle, Isao visits the home of one of the bounty hunters and holds his wife and autistic kid hostage.

When the bounty hunter calls home to see how things are going, Isao takes a page out of George Carlin’s playbook and says, “Your wife can’t come to the phone right now, she’s seriously injured. She was lighting a fart and her bush caught on fire.” Isao was asking for trouble and praying for victory at the same time, just like the badass he was.

Isao’s presence in the Dungeons & Dragons role-play wasn’t nearly as impressive as when he did Say Goodbye. Yes, he was a former mixed-martial arts welterweight champion, but the only reason he got a shot at the title was because the original champion, a half-orc barbarian named Agrusk, was found dead in his home from videogame addiction.

So Isao is the number one contender for the welterweight title and wins the gold. At the next pay-per-view event, he has to defend it against a humanoid tiger named Bob Rua. Isao is defeated via head kicks in just ten seconds to lose the title. He tried to calm down with a massage afterwards, but he couldn’t relax as he just kept repeating to himself, “Ten seconds…ten seconds…ten seconds…”

Determining which version of Isao Qing I want to reuse isn’t rocket science: I want the badass ghost ninja with the silver tongue and the mystical katana. Unfortunately, I haven’t been using very many ninja characters in my short stories lately. Truth be told, I’m not the greatest at doing internet research since my lack of patience and lack of a filter for the articles I find keep me from accomplishing anything.

I know ninjas are black-clad assassins who are supposed to be quick and sneaky. I also know they’re supposed to be exceptional martial artists. The general idea of what a ninja should be is branded in my brain. The cultural aspects are not. When I make a ninja character, I don’t take into account things like honor and respect, just being a badass killer. If I do use Isao Qing as a ghost ninja, it will be a tough decision to make.

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“I’m going to leave John Cena in a pile of blood, urine, and vomit.”

-Brock Lesnar-