Showing posts with label Rhino. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rhino. Show all posts
Sunday, January 11, 2026
Wednesday, January 1, 2020
Drunk as a Skunk
This would have been a perfect time for Sheriff Walt Magnus
to begin again…if it wasn’t for the smell of alcohol radiating off of his body
like nuclear energy. The burps exploding from his fanged mouth also included
splashes of green spittle, a color that already looked horrifying on his scaly
orcish flesh. The crotch of his blue jeans resembled a swimming pool, provided
his bits and pieces were swimming in sewage. His red flannel shirt was glazed
over with sweat, so much so that he had to air out his leather vest just to
beat the desert heat. His snakeskin boots danced around on the sandy ground as
he shimmied drunkenly from side to side. No doubt the Silver Star on his cowboy
hat looked less and less believable with every near trip.
Passersby gazed upon their once beloved Sheriff with
crinkle-faced disgust. Elven traders backed away as quickly as they could,
probably hoping Walt’s drunken sweat didn’t get on their produce. Human
families shielded their children, covering their ears with every passing burp.
Even the shirtless, flabby-bellied, shit-breathed ogres held their nose in
disgust as they waddled away from Walt. Despite his mind echoing with drunken
harmonies, he could make out the various curses that his citizens said under
their breath. Walt’s heart would have sunken if his emotions weren’t already
numb. Instead, a vomit spill on the wooden steps of the Red Dragon Saloon would
have to suffice. Now the citizens got the hell out of there in a big fucking
hurry.
“I got this…I fucking got this shit…I can do this…just one
measly arrest is all it takes…eh, who am I kidding?” With nobody around to
listen to his monologue, Walt collapsed through the swinging doors of the
saloon and face-planted on the floor, almost shattering his wide nose and a few
fangs in the process. Almost. Drunken stupor be damned, he could still hear the
squeaks of a rag cleaning off glass mugs. “Thank god you’re here, Murphy. You
ain’t going to believe this, but…I need another drink…”
Walt grabbed the edge of a nearby piano and yanked himself
to his feet, but not without dancing around some more. It suddenly dawned on
him why the saloon was so quiet. Human corpses decorated the establishment,
some bent over chairs, some sprawled out across the tables and the bar, all of
them with blood pouring from their wounds like the tap itself. Walt could also
smell elven blood, which was a daisy garden compared to the ogres lying about.
Once his vision cleared up, he saw no sign of Murphy the Bartender behind the
counter.
The one wiping the glass mugs (and shattering a few of them
with her thick fingers) was a rotund anthropomorphic rhino dressed in a green
leather apron. She gazed into Walt’s watery eyes and pointed her blood-soaked
horn at him. “I ain’t Murphy, asshole. He couldn’t make it to work today. He’s
taking a permanent vacation in the bowels of hell with the rest of these
fat-shaming losers. It’s like they ain’t never seen a big woman before. Even
these god-forsaken ogres couldn’t keep their flabby gums shut.”
“Yeah, I know how that is…” Walt burped before staggering
and dragging his feet towards the bar, almost falling off of his stool as he
parked his ass down. He could have sworn the deer heads on the wall were
glaring judgmentally at him as well. Even the corpses looked like they wanted
to drag Walt to hell with them, provided the rhino woman was right about their
ultimate fates. “Can I at least have a beer?”
The rhino woman laid her palms across the bar after tossing
the glass mug aside. “You sure about that, honey? Do you really need another
bottle right now? Shouldn’t you be out cuffing people or some shit?”
Walt dropped his forehead onto the bar. “Yeah, like anyone
gives a shit anymore. It’s always do this, do that, all without an ounce of
thanks. You have any idea how many punks I’ve put in the pokey?” He lifted his
head and tried to use his bladed fingers to count, but immediately lost track
and chuckled. “I’m all burned out and nobody gives a rat’s ass. They whine and
complain to me all day and now they’re fucking surprised that I’m piss drunk.”
“I certainly hope you’re not trying to pull a fast one on
me, Sheriff. I might have to gore your ass too if you pull that negotiator 101
shit right now. Yeah, you’re one ugly motherfucker alright, but you’ve got that
little narrow ass that the voters like. Me? I couldn’t sell a glass of water to
a guy dying of thirst. They see my big ass and my big nose and automatically
want to deduct a hundred IQ points. Ain’t nobody voting for me anytime soon.”
Walt burped again, spilling bile down his already messed up
shirt and vest.
“Ain’t nobody voting for you either if you keep that shit
up. Seriously, go take a bath or something. There are horse stalls across the
street that smell better than you.”
Walt almost leaned back too far for his comfort. “You know
what? You’re right. Maybe I don’t need a beer today. But…there’s no way in hell
I’m going out there in that heat…not like this. You won’t mind if a sleep here
for a few hours, would ya, miss?” He took the rhino’s hand and kissed it in a
vain attempt to sweeten the deal.
She smiled. “I don’t see why not. Everyone else around here
is taking a nap, I guess you could too. Maybe I’ll play something on the piano,
like a lullaby or some shit. Or I could just stick my horn right through your
fucking chest, either one would be fine.”
Walt lurched forward and a vial of amber liquid fell out of
his sleeve. His eyes widened as his façade was exposed to the now growling
rhino. She picked it up and shattered it between her fingers, confirming that
it was indeed alcoholic perfume.
The Sheriff chuckled hoarsely. “Dina Octavia Lord…you’ve got
this entire town scared shitless of you...Nobody’s got balls big enough to
confront your big ass…But I will. Come with me, babe. You’re under arrest for
mass murder!”
Dina roared a windstorm in Walt’s face, assaulting his
nostrils with bad dentistry and knocking him on his back. “Oh, shit!” he said
as he put his blown off hat back on and scrambled to his feet, bolting out of
the saloon.
The thunderous sound of massive rhino legs charging behind
him caused Walt to hold onto his hat and pick up speed. Everybody else
scattered like cockroaches, screaming and crying while their arms flailed in
the air. As Dina’s feet clomped and shook the ground, Walt’s heart thudded even
louder and his mind cluster-fucked itself worse than if he actually was drunk. The
footsteps pounded his eardrums like they were actual percussion instruments.
“Just a few more steps…a few more!”
Once he could feel the tip of Dina’s horn piercing his ass crack,
Walt dove through one of the horse stalls and covered up in the hay. The wooden
walls exploded like dynamite once Dina crashed through them. Walt was certain
he was going to be flattened like a pancake and crushed like peanut brittle.
But then…horse whines belted through the stables and were accompanied by hooves
smashing and kicking out of intense fear. Dina bellowed out of both anger and
pain, her face and ribs covered in horseshoe marks, broken bones, and blood.
Walt covered up and cowered some more as the horses stormed
out of their stalls, leaving a trail of shit and piss behind them, not to
mention Dina’s thick blood. Speaking of Dina, she lied on the ground clutching
her broken body and coughing up blood. Her horn even broke off to where it was
a jagged mess rather than a clean blade.
Sheriff Magnus slowly stood up and pulled out his six
shooter, aiming it at the wounded and battered Dina, who just suffered through
a kung fu assault from a house full of frightened horses. “You see that, Miss
Lord? That’s what happens when you try to use fear to control your enemies.
When the people get scared, they do scary shit. In the case of the horses…well,
we knew how that story ended. I know you don’t like being called fat and ugly.
To be honest, nobody does. But if the whole town followed your example and went
on a mass murdering spree…I might have an actual reason to be drunk as a skunk
instead of doing my duty.”
Kneeling down beside Dina, he said, “Now listen, lady: I
ain’t got cuffs big enough for them wrists of yours. No, that ain’t a fat joke,
that’s god’s honest truth. I guess I’ll just have to hold your ass at gunpoint
as I take you to jail.” He stood back up and motioned for her to stand up with
his gun barrel.
Spitting out chunky blood and broken teeth, Dina said,
“There’s no way in hell I’m going to jail before these jokers and clowns do. I
don’t see you arresting the dickheads who signed their own death warrant a long
fucking time ago. They didn’t have to kiss my ass. They just had to keep their
damn mouths shut. Is it too much to ask? I SAID IS IT TOO MUCH TO FUCKING
ASK?!” Despite aggravating her rib injuries, Dina found a way to reach Walt’s
ankle. She got what she probably hoped for this whole time: suicide by cop.
Walt shot her in the chest multiple times, putting an end to her reign of
terror for good.
Despite having an obvious victory under his belt, Walt
frowned at his handiwork. His body shook in anger as onlookers clapped for him.
He couldn’t help but think there was a little bit of truth to what Dina said
during her final moments. Walt spun around and confronted his admirers. “What
are you fuckers cheering at?! This is your damn fault!” The clapping died down
and faces sagged in somber reflection. “Hell, none of you would give me the time
of day when you thought I was drunk. You were ready to vote for the other guy
once you had enough of my jolly green ass. Shallow bastards!”
Walt ripped the Silver Star out of his cowboy hat and tossed
it aside before marching away, his middle finger waving proudly in the air like
a patriotic banner. These people were freaks too, but maybe Dina was a little
too freaky even for them. Then again, so was Walt Magnus, which was why he
stamped away from these ingrates in the first place.
Wednesday, July 31, 2019
Crawl and Brawl
CHORUS
Ten thousand punches, tenderized lunches
Ten thousand crunches, bones break in bunches
Ten thousand kicks from the six-six-six
Crawl and brawl, bitch, crawl and brawl!
VERSE 1
A super-kick party’s got nothing on this
Ten thousand uppercuts, death match bliss
Taking razor wire and wrapping those fists
Someone’s getting killed, somebody’s pissed
Steel cage couldn’t contain all the bloodshed
A prison riot? We ain’t fucking done yet
Every last dumb shit is waiting to get beaten
Every last dead body is waiting to get eaten
CHORUS
Ten thousand punches, tenderized lunches
Ten thousand crunches, bones break in bunches
Ten thousand kicks from the six-six-six
Crawl and brawl, bitch, crawl and brawl!
VERSE 2
A Florida
A Burmese tiger will bring the fucking fire
An African rhino will gore you in the gut
Trample your ass into the bubbling mud
You picked the wrong fight for tonight
The holy preacher will speak your last rites
The undertaker will take you to your maker
Crawl and brawl until you all fucking fall
CHORUS
Ten thousand punches, tenderized lunches
Ten thousand crunches, bones break in bunches
Ten thousand kicks from the six-six-six
Crawl and brawl, bitch, crawl and brawl!
VERSE 3
A golden belt means less than a human pelt
A gold medal will not bring the heavy metal
A trophy cup will not make them shut up
Snuggle with severed heads when going to bed
A bloody dream will make your genitals cream
In the real world, they scream like little girls
Only a true warrior can make the world cry
As they watch their heavyweight champions die
FINAL LINES
Crawl and brawl! X4
Saturday, April 9, 2016
Zootopia
MOVIE TITLE: Zootopia
DIRECTORS: Byron Howard and Rich Moore
YEAR: 2016
GENRE: Children’s Animation
RATING: PG for comic mischief
GRADE: Extra Credit
In a world where anthropomorphic animals reign, little bunny
Judy Hops dreamed of being a Zootopia police officer and making a difference
ever since she was a little kid. Everyone from her carrot farming parents to a
wise cracking fox named Nick told her that her dreams were worthless and
settling for less was the only way to live. Even as a meter maid, Judy is
determined to prove that no dream is too far out of reach and any case is
solvable. She even decides to go rogue and solve a case involving fourteen
missing predators without help from her fellow police cohorts. It starts out as
simple lead following (and conning Nick) and evolves into a conspiracy that
affects the entire animal kingdom.
When giving this movie high praise, one must point out the
elephant in the room. No, not the one with the trunk and tusks. I’m talking
about the themes of prejudice and police corruption. In the real world, it
means non-white criminals will be given stiffer penalties than white ones
despite the severity and circumstances of the crime. In the world of Zootopia,
it’s the same racial clash, but with predators and prey. Predators are labeled
as savages and criminals while the preys are labeled as automatically innocent
and sweet. The makers of this movie were obviously trying to teach younger
viewers a lesson in loving and accepting each other despite our differences.
It’s an admirable lesson and an important one in today’s modern age with the Ferguson , Missouri
The other message of the movie is to never give up on your
hopes and dreams no matter how tough things get. As someone who aspires to be a
professional author in a tightly competitive market, I always love it when this
message is sent loud and clear. Judy Hops appreciated it too since overcoming
obstacles is her strongest feature. She’s a teeny-tiny bunny rabbit in a world
of hulking buffalos and rhinos. If she can make it in Zootopia, she can make it
anywhere. Settling for less seems like a good survival strategy, but surviving
isn’t the same as actually living. Walking about like a zombie to a stressful
job isn’t healthy and shouldn’t be encouraged by any authority figure.
I mentioned that the animals were cute and cuddly, right?
Well, it’s not just a great way to attack the theme of prejudice, but it’s also
a good for getting those cutesy-wutesy emotions out in the open. I have tons of
cats and two lovable dogs living with me, so I know how important it is to show
them love and affection. One of my favorite things to call an animal is a
“pie”. Sometimes I’ll attach it on the end of my pets’ names. My Springer
Spaniel Bassett Hound mix is called Maggie-Pie. My little Schipperke is called
Willem-Pie. The elderly brown kitty that’s currently sleeping on my bed with
new age music in the background is called Smokey-Pie. Yes, I know animals
aren’t actually dessert pastries, but they don’t seem to mind the affection. In
fact, they welcome it. So would it be too out of line if I called the characters
Judy-Pie and Nicky-Pie? They’d probably take it as species profiling, but
they’ll come around once they get their belly rubs.
Despite the fact that this is a PG-rated Disney movie, it’s
one all age groups should see. There are so many reasons to love it, including
ones I haven’t outlined in this review. I don’t want to outline too much,
because that would lead to spoilers and spoilers take the motivation away. Go
buy a ticket and see this wonderful movie in the theaters. If not, you could
wait for it to come out on Blu-Ray, DVD, and digital format. If you’re not
smiling and giddy by the time this movie is over, check your pulse. Five stars
for a movie that was more than just a lovey-dovey parading of animals. It’s a
movie that keeps hope alive even after crushing politics leave us all desolate
and depressed.
Thursday, October 1, 2015
Unleash the Animal
How exactly does an ancient weapon like a blunderbuss take down something magnificent like a rhino or a cheetah? For Joseph Stone, a few creative modifications such as a pump handle and an automatic firing chamber would have been the answer to that question. He tested the weapon out on a family of small rabbits to great success. He dined on their corpses afterwards and was hungry for bigger and better meals. The only place he could find such a gigantic meal was out in the Cracker Box Plains. Rhinos, antelope, buffalo, cheetahs, mmm-mmm-mmm!
Joseph Stone wasn’t the most athletic guy in the world with his belly protruding underneath his flak vest and over the top of his khaki shorts. Then again, he didn’t need to be since his hunting methods were so foolproof he never once had to run away from an animal. Even if he had the body of a Greek god, running away from one of these dangerous animals was damned near impossible.
And speaking of which, as soon as pudgy-buns Joseph spotted his next kill, he ducked down into the tall grass and cranked his modified blunderbuss. After making himself inconspicuous, he looked through the scope on his weapon and could only ask himself, “What the hell?”
It was an anthropomorphic rhino wearing spiked metal armor while carrying a nasty-looking battleaxe with a bone handle and a stone blade. To his animal peers, he was known as Stinger Crushwar, badass barbarian and all around disgusting creature. To Joseph Stone, Stinger was a potential dinner that made his chubby jowls water. He didn’t want to take the shot unless he was sure it would kill the son of a bitch right away.
Stinger stripped off his heavy metal armor and cannon-balled into a pool of silvery, pristine water. Well, the water wasn’t so pristine anymore after that. The dirt and grime on Stinger’s body mixed in with this usually delicious water and turned it into murky sewage. The rhino warrior also let out a monstrous fart that created a bigger splash than the cannonball. “This is the life!” he said to himself.
“You moron! Look what you did to my reflecting pool!” The nails-on-a-chalkboard voice that caught Stinger’s attention was that of an anthropomorphic antelope dressed in blue wizard robes named Rosie Moonbender. She stood there with her hands on her hips and an angry expression that was more wrinkly than a raisin. She went on to say, “I use this pool to mix potions and create spells! And now look what you’ve done! You turned it into your own personal shit hole!”
Stinger let out another rancid blast from his ass and the bubble splashed a little bit of water on Rosie’s robe. The antelope wizard held her clothing with disgust and shock, but not nearly as much as when she saw a gigantic brown turd floating near the top. Stinger smiled at his female rival and said nonchalantly, “You were saying?”
Rosie’s hooves dropped to her sides and clinched tightly as purple electric energy was swirling around her. Whatever spell she was going to cast had almost apocalyptic implications with the nearby tress being blown over and the grass turning the ashes. Stinger didn’t give a second shit how powerful this wizard was and armed himself with his battleaxe. He held the blade to her face while still wading in the sacred pool and said, “Don’t you try nothing funny, bitch! I hunt and skin your kind just for fun!”
A white beam of energy descended upon the rhino barbarian and the antelope wizard and blinded them temporarily until the source of the magic appeared right next to them in black knight’s armor and a red cloak. It was a buffalo paladin named Magnus Hoarfrost and his holier than thou stance led Stinger and Rosie to believe he would play the role of lawman in these wild plains.
“Clearly, a peaceful solution can be accomplished. The two of you are just too stressed out to see it right before your very eyes,” said Magnus in a deceptively calm deep voice. Stinger and Rosie looked at each other in confusion before letting the buffalo knight to continue this oratory. “The good lord has his eyes on everyone here in these holy plains. If you want to make a good impression, you can’t behave like sinful children. All you have to do is believe in the divine light that surrounds you all.”
The mighty religious rhetoric made Stinger yell, “Ha!” before the rhino warrior picked up his nasty turd and tossed it at Magnus, who looked down at the mess on his armor and shook his head before languidly wiping it off. Stinger, being a natural born animalistic migraine, laughed at the paladin with a hoarse and boisterous voice. Despite having her reflecting pool violated, Rosie Moonbender joined in the obnoxious laughter as well.
“Alright, you wild animals!” screamed Magnus Hoarfrost, who was now armed with two maces with spiked metal shells at the end of them. “If you want to act like disgusting sinners, then I shall treat you as such! The bowels of hell are hungry for new souls! You two will do just fine!”
The three-way battle was underway when Magnus threw a bolt of holy lightning down upon Rosie, who countered that spell with relentless glacial spikes. Magnus rained down holy fire upon the antelope wizard, but was met with a tidal wave of black magic. For the longest time, these two magic-slingers exchanged gigantic volleys of energy whether it was fire, ice, lightning, or shadow. They both had a counter for each other and even more surrounding trees were being knocked to the ground or shredded to pieces.
The one thing the two energy-slingers didn’t count on was them each getting a face full of murky water compliments of Stinger Crushwar, who was now out of the pool, fully dressed in his spiky metal armor, carrying his primitive battleaxe, and laughing at them like the sickening man-child he was. He even fell ass-first into the burned grass and didn’t feel a thing.
Rosie and Magnus nodded to each other and then powered up for what was surely to be cosmic chaos. Stinger got his bearings about him and got up into his defensive stance. He angrily charged across the burned grass and swung his axe with caveman passion as the magic users threw their fireballs and ice sickles at him. He smashed the energy shots away like he was playing the world’s most vicious and violent game of baseball.
One of the ice sickles bounced off of Stinger’s axe and impaled Rosie through her stomach. She gagged and coughed as blood was pouring out of her wound and her mouth at a rapid pace. The mystical diva dropped to her knees and plopped over onto her face as she took her final blood-covered breaths.
Magnus looked on at his “partner’s” death with Shakespearean shock when his mouth dropped open in dramatic fashion. He reached both maces to the sky and shouted, “Why?! Why, my dear lord?! Why would you take this fine young girl away from this earth?! She could have been saved! She could have listened to your divine word! She could have…”
The excessively dramatic speech was cut short when Stinger sneaked up behind Magnus and chopped his head off with one swing of his blade. The buffalo’s head rolled while the body shot blood out of its neck and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Stinger looked around at what he just did and raised his own fists to the skies to give out a barbaric war cry. “Hell yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! Now let’s see about getting back in that pool!”
After Stinger let out two casual laughs, his head exploded from his shoulders and his body dropped to the ground with blood leaking into the shit-infested reflecting pool. The whole time they were bickering, neither one of these three could pay any notice to the one person who could spell doom for these entire plains: Joseph Stone.
The hunter stood proudly over all three meaty animal corpses and nodded viciously before saying, “Yep! I’m going to be eating well tonight! Mmm-mmm-mmm!” He then started singing meaningless “doos” and “duns” to himself as he gathered pieces of the knocked over trees to build a bonfire. The blunderbuss he used to blow off Stinger’s head also had another creative feature attached to it: a flamethrower for barbecuing the meat that he loved so much.
Cooking the three corpses and eating them all took anywhere between three to four hours total. Joseph Stone’s appetite was that big. He sat on his ass with his flak vest open and his sauce-stained gut hanging down. He had dipping sauce, blood, and little shreds of meat hanging all around him for what was indeed a satisfying meal.
What wasn’t so satisfying was the fact that Joseph had a hard time sitting up. He could roll over and push himself off all he wanted to, but he was so glutinous that he was stuck on the ground. His heart rate began to accelerate and his skin was getting sweaty and cold. He crawled aimlessly with his sausage fingers over his boobed chest until he could crawl no more. That was when he accidentally plunged himself into the diarrhea pool and drowned while having a heart attack at the same time. To say that there were no winners in this battle for nothing was putting it mildly.
Joseph Stone wasn’t the most athletic guy in the world with his belly protruding underneath his flak vest and over the top of his khaki shorts. Then again, he didn’t need to be since his hunting methods were so foolproof he never once had to run away from an animal. Even if he had the body of a Greek god, running away from one of these dangerous animals was damned near impossible.
And speaking of which, as soon as pudgy-buns Joseph spotted his next kill, he ducked down into the tall grass and cranked his modified blunderbuss. After making himself inconspicuous, he looked through the scope on his weapon and could only ask himself, “What the hell?”
It was an anthropomorphic rhino wearing spiked metal armor while carrying a nasty-looking battleaxe with a bone handle and a stone blade. To his animal peers, he was known as Stinger Crushwar, badass barbarian and all around disgusting creature. To Joseph Stone, Stinger was a potential dinner that made his chubby jowls water. He didn’t want to take the shot unless he was sure it would kill the son of a bitch right away.
Stinger stripped off his heavy metal armor and cannon-balled into a pool of silvery, pristine water. Well, the water wasn’t so pristine anymore after that. The dirt and grime on Stinger’s body mixed in with this usually delicious water and turned it into murky sewage. The rhino warrior also let out a monstrous fart that created a bigger splash than the cannonball. “This is the life!” he said to himself.
“You moron! Look what you did to my reflecting pool!” The nails-on-a-chalkboard voice that caught Stinger’s attention was that of an anthropomorphic antelope dressed in blue wizard robes named Rosie Moonbender. She stood there with her hands on her hips and an angry expression that was more wrinkly than a raisin. She went on to say, “I use this pool to mix potions and create spells! And now look what you’ve done! You turned it into your own personal shit hole!”
Stinger let out another rancid blast from his ass and the bubble splashed a little bit of water on Rosie’s robe. The antelope wizard held her clothing with disgust and shock, but not nearly as much as when she saw a gigantic brown turd floating near the top. Stinger smiled at his female rival and said nonchalantly, “You were saying?”
Rosie’s hooves dropped to her sides and clinched tightly as purple electric energy was swirling around her. Whatever spell she was going to cast had almost apocalyptic implications with the nearby tress being blown over and the grass turning the ashes. Stinger didn’t give a second shit how powerful this wizard was and armed himself with his battleaxe. He held the blade to her face while still wading in the sacred pool and said, “Don’t you try nothing funny, bitch! I hunt and skin your kind just for fun!”
A white beam of energy descended upon the rhino barbarian and the antelope wizard and blinded them temporarily until the source of the magic appeared right next to them in black knight’s armor and a red cloak. It was a buffalo paladin named Magnus Hoarfrost and his holier than thou stance led Stinger and Rosie to believe he would play the role of lawman in these wild plains.
“Clearly, a peaceful solution can be accomplished. The two of you are just too stressed out to see it right before your very eyes,” said Magnus in a deceptively calm deep voice. Stinger and Rosie looked at each other in confusion before letting the buffalo knight to continue this oratory. “The good lord has his eyes on everyone here in these holy plains. If you want to make a good impression, you can’t behave like sinful children. All you have to do is believe in the divine light that surrounds you all.”
The mighty religious rhetoric made Stinger yell, “Ha!” before the rhino warrior picked up his nasty turd and tossed it at Magnus, who looked down at the mess on his armor and shook his head before languidly wiping it off. Stinger, being a natural born animalistic migraine, laughed at the paladin with a hoarse and boisterous voice. Despite having her reflecting pool violated, Rosie Moonbender joined in the obnoxious laughter as well.
“Alright, you wild animals!” screamed Magnus Hoarfrost, who was now armed with two maces with spiked metal shells at the end of them. “If you want to act like disgusting sinners, then I shall treat you as such! The bowels of hell are hungry for new souls! You two will do just fine!”
The three-way battle was underway when Magnus threw a bolt of holy lightning down upon Rosie, who countered that spell with relentless glacial spikes. Magnus rained down holy fire upon the antelope wizard, but was met with a tidal wave of black magic. For the longest time, these two magic-slingers exchanged gigantic volleys of energy whether it was fire, ice, lightning, or shadow. They both had a counter for each other and even more surrounding trees were being knocked to the ground or shredded to pieces.
The one thing the two energy-slingers didn’t count on was them each getting a face full of murky water compliments of Stinger Crushwar, who was now out of the pool, fully dressed in his spiky metal armor, carrying his primitive battleaxe, and laughing at them like the sickening man-child he was. He even fell ass-first into the burned grass and didn’t feel a thing.
Rosie and Magnus nodded to each other and then powered up for what was surely to be cosmic chaos. Stinger got his bearings about him and got up into his defensive stance. He angrily charged across the burned grass and swung his axe with caveman passion as the magic users threw their fireballs and ice sickles at him. He smashed the energy shots away like he was playing the world’s most vicious and violent game of baseball.
One of the ice sickles bounced off of Stinger’s axe and impaled Rosie through her stomach. She gagged and coughed as blood was pouring out of her wound and her mouth at a rapid pace. The mystical diva dropped to her knees and plopped over onto her face as she took her final blood-covered breaths.
Magnus looked on at his “partner’s” death with Shakespearean shock when his mouth dropped open in dramatic fashion. He reached both maces to the sky and shouted, “Why?! Why, my dear lord?! Why would you take this fine young girl away from this earth?! She could have been saved! She could have listened to your divine word! She could have…”
The excessively dramatic speech was cut short when Stinger sneaked up behind Magnus and chopped his head off with one swing of his blade. The buffalo’s head rolled while the body shot blood out of its neck and fell to the ground with a loud thud. Stinger looked around at what he just did and raised his own fists to the skies to give out a barbaric war cry. “Hell yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! Now let’s see about getting back in that pool!”
After Stinger let out two casual laughs, his head exploded from his shoulders and his body dropped to the ground with blood leaking into the shit-infested reflecting pool. The whole time they were bickering, neither one of these three could pay any notice to the one person who could spell doom for these entire plains: Joseph Stone.
The hunter stood proudly over all three meaty animal corpses and nodded viciously before saying, “Yep! I’m going to be eating well tonight! Mmm-mmm-mmm!” He then started singing meaningless “doos” and “duns” to himself as he gathered pieces of the knocked over trees to build a bonfire. The blunderbuss he used to blow off Stinger’s head also had another creative feature attached to it: a flamethrower for barbecuing the meat that he loved so much.
Cooking the three corpses and eating them all took anywhere between three to four hours total. Joseph Stone’s appetite was that big. He sat on his ass with his flak vest open and his sauce-stained gut hanging down. He had dipping sauce, blood, and little shreds of meat hanging all around him for what was indeed a satisfying meal.
What wasn’t so satisfying was the fact that Joseph had a hard time sitting up. He could roll over and push himself off all he wanted to, but he was so glutinous that he was stuck on the ground. His heart rate began to accelerate and his skin was getting sweaty and cold. He crawled aimlessly with his sausage fingers over his boobed chest until he could crawl no more. That was when he accidentally plunged himself into the diarrhea pool and drowned while having a heart attack at the same time. To say that there were no winners in this battle for nothing was putting it mildly.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Stardust
When Mitch O’Connor’s spacecraft touched down on the world of Stardust, he couldn’t believe how small it was. It truly was a retreat for an introverted hermit like Marcus Edge. The door to the pod-like spacecraft opened and Mitch clunked down the stairs in his spiked metal power armor while carrying a gauss rifle that was bigger than his own arms. “Oh, this is too easy. Too damn easy!” he said to himself.
Stardust wasn’t the most complex world in the galaxy. Smallness aside, it appeared to be a jungle land complete with coconut trees, dirt trails, tall grass, plant life, just your everyday nature trail on planet earth. Even for a planet this tiny, Mitch still had a problem finding his target Marcus Edge. It didn’t help matters that the space mercenary was stomping around on the ground in his gigantic metal boots. Then again, his job didn’t require a great deal of stealth, so he didn’t dwell on it much.
“Marcus Edge!” shouted Mitch through an amplified microphone inside his space helmet. “I know your ass is around here somewhere! I’m feeling pretty good today, probably because toasting your little world is going to be the easiest thing I’ve ever done! So here’s what I’m going to do, Marcus: I’m going to give you the chance to get your hermit ass off this planet so that when I burn down the plant life and kill all the animals, you won’t have to be a part of it. My boss at World Corp wants to turn your little home into a vacation getaway. It don’t look like much of a vacation right now, buddy boy. It looks more like…”
Before he was allowed to finish his oratory, Mitch O’Connor’s legs were snatched up from underneath him and he hung upside down on a vine. He was so far off the ground that when he dropped his rifle, he couldn’t pick the damn thing back up again. “Oh, you’ve got traps now?” he said. “Well, I got news for you, smart ass: I’ve been doing this shit for a whole decade and ain’t no vine going to stop my ass from burning everything in sight!”
His boldness turned to fear when he found himself face to face with a Venus Fly Trap, the owner of that tight vine. This particular plant had teeth the size of railroad spikes and blood oozing from its mouth like a waterfall. Mitch’s lips were vibrating and his eyes widened at the sight of this monster. And then he went back to being bold when he said, “Wait a minute! Why the hell am I scared of a goddamn plant?”
With his metal space helmet, Mitch O’Connor unleashed a powerful head butt to the Venus Fly Trap, loosening a few teeth and spraying some more blood, but more importantly, loosing the vine’s grip on the mercenary’s legs. Mitch plummeted to the grassy ground below, but his metal armor protected him from injury, so he pretty much picked himself up, dusted himself off, and found his rifle again.
“Is that all you got, Marcus? Some stupid plant? Oh, this is going to be easier than I thought! And I’m making millions off of this job! It’s like Christmas came early!” boasted Mitch.
“Don’t be too sure of that, you disgusting human!” said the busted up Venus Fly Trap in a raspy voice. With Mitch watching in awe and horror, the plant morphed into a human being wearing bear skin clothing and a raccoon cap on his head. This was him alright: Marcus Edge, hermit druid.
“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, huh? You want to put up a fight? Well, goddamn, man, you’ve got one now, bitch!” shouted the soldier for hire when he raised his gauss rifle and opened automatic fire. That many plutonium bullets would have been enough to shred a normal human being into dust. Hell, the surgeons would need a microscope to put his sorry ass back together again. But when the storm of bullets ended, there was no corpse.
Instead all Mitch O’Connor got was a deafening bird squawk right in his left ear. Marcus, who now morphed into a parrot, continued to blast his windpipes in his opponent’s ear and double the man over as he got a headache. When the druid believed his adversary had enough, he flew off into the sunset and left Mitch to clutch his aching head.
The sudden drop in volume inspired the mercenary to aim his rifle and unleash another rainstorm of violence upon his opponent. The shredding impact only resulted in one feather this time. On measly little feather.
“What the hell’s going on here?!” Good question, Mr. O’Connor. What was going on was that Marcus Edge had now morphed into a charging rhino. The tank-like beast barreled and stampeded his way across the grass and knocked a few trees over. With little time for his opponent to react, Marcus gored Mitch and sent him flying backwards several feet, knocking a few trees over himself.
That power armor was a blessing for Mitch since he had just survived a high drop and getting spear tackled by a rhino. But now the mercenary was feeling the pain. He was so exhausted from these attacks that he took longer than usual to get up. He crashed into trees, for god’s sake. Trees! Yet he continued to be brash and cocky in the face of danger.
“Is that all you got, you son of a bitch? What are you going to change into now, a small puppy? Are you going to bark your way to victory?” yelled Mitch.
Changing from a rhino back to his human form, Marcus slowly approached his nemesis and said, “No, I’m not going to do any barking today. That’s been your job since you landed on Stardust, you asshole.”
With Mitch watching in awe of his opponent, Marcus continued his speech with, “You know what I detest about the human race? You people think you have the right to conquer whatever the hell you want. You did it on earth with pretty much every group of people that wasn’t white, including Indians and Africans. That’s all you guys do: just take, take, take. You have some oil? I’ll take that. You have human rights? I’ll take that as well. Is that supposed to be impressive? To who, exactly? Your mother? Your father? Your trophy wife? The president himself? How many more people have to die before you’re finally satisfied with the things you already have! You make me sick! You all make me sick!”
An uncomfortable hush had fallen over the scene and then Marcus laid into Mitch some more, “That’s why I came to Stardust: to get away from it all. And now some space jockey like you decides to come to my world and sell it to some rich asshole? Let me fill you in on a little secret, buddy boy. Stardust isn’t just any tiny planet. It’s the product of my own imagination. As long as I keep being creative, I can manipulate any part of this world I want while you only have that stupid rifle to overcompensate for your small penis. To put it in words even a money-hungry thug like you can understand…you were screwed the minute you stepped foot on my world.”
This would have been the best time for Mitch O’Connor to get back in his spaceship and tell his bosses at World Corp to shove it. Just leave now while he still had his peace of mind and still had his health. But instead he decided to keep playing the role of an arrogant jerk-ass. He yelled, “You worthless piece of shit!” prior to opening fire yet again.
Except this time it wasn’t just plutonium bullets. It was also fireballs, ice sickles, lightning bolts, biological sludge, and laser beams, all of which were hidden compartments on his rifle and all of which were necessary in doing his job to destroy entire planets to get them ready for flipping.
After unloading a cataclysm of agony that Armageddon itself could never produce, Mitch didn’t even check to see if there was a corpse this time. He just dropped to his hands and knees, breathed deeply, and laughed his ass off. “I got you, bitch! I got you this time! And there ain’t nothing you can do about it!”
Mitch was so busy laughing his way to insanity that he didn’t realize he was sinking in a mud pit. Even when the mud was completely covering his space helmet, he couldn’t have cared less. It was when he was underneath the mud pit and into a cavern of filth that he realized what was going on. The realization hit him even harder when Marcus was standing there with his arms folded saying, “What took you so long?”
“No…no…this ain’t happening, man! This ain’t happening! Don’t you ever fucking die, man?!” screamed a deranged Mitch O’Connor.
Marcus laid a hand on his invader’s metal shoulder and said, “Old druids don’t die. They just get better.” With Mitch shedding tears of defeat, Marcus Edge transformed into a gigantic grizzly bear and started chewing and mauling his way through the metal armor, which at this point was a lot like opening a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli. Oh, the meat sauce inside was going to be so worth all this rage.
Stardust wasn’t the most complex world in the galaxy. Smallness aside, it appeared to be a jungle land complete with coconut trees, dirt trails, tall grass, plant life, just your everyday nature trail on planet earth. Even for a planet this tiny, Mitch still had a problem finding his target Marcus Edge. It didn’t help matters that the space mercenary was stomping around on the ground in his gigantic metal boots. Then again, his job didn’t require a great deal of stealth, so he didn’t dwell on it much.
“Marcus Edge!” shouted Mitch through an amplified microphone inside his space helmet. “I know your ass is around here somewhere! I’m feeling pretty good today, probably because toasting your little world is going to be the easiest thing I’ve ever done! So here’s what I’m going to do, Marcus: I’m going to give you the chance to get your hermit ass off this planet so that when I burn down the plant life and kill all the animals, you won’t have to be a part of it. My boss at World Corp wants to turn your little home into a vacation getaway. It don’t look like much of a vacation right now, buddy boy. It looks more like…”
Before he was allowed to finish his oratory, Mitch O’Connor’s legs were snatched up from underneath him and he hung upside down on a vine. He was so far off the ground that when he dropped his rifle, he couldn’t pick the damn thing back up again. “Oh, you’ve got traps now?” he said. “Well, I got news for you, smart ass: I’ve been doing this shit for a whole decade and ain’t no vine going to stop my ass from burning everything in sight!”
His boldness turned to fear when he found himself face to face with a Venus Fly Trap, the owner of that tight vine. This particular plant had teeth the size of railroad spikes and blood oozing from its mouth like a waterfall. Mitch’s lips were vibrating and his eyes widened at the sight of this monster. And then he went back to being bold when he said, “Wait a minute! Why the hell am I scared of a goddamn plant?”
With his metal space helmet, Mitch O’Connor unleashed a powerful head butt to the Venus Fly Trap, loosening a few teeth and spraying some more blood, but more importantly, loosing the vine’s grip on the mercenary’s legs. Mitch plummeted to the grassy ground below, but his metal armor protected him from injury, so he pretty much picked himself up, dusted himself off, and found his rifle again.
“Is that all you got, Marcus? Some stupid plant? Oh, this is going to be easier than I thought! And I’m making millions off of this job! It’s like Christmas came early!” boasted Mitch.
“Don’t be too sure of that, you disgusting human!” said the busted up Venus Fly Trap in a raspy voice. With Mitch watching in awe and horror, the plant morphed into a human being wearing bear skin clothing and a raccoon cap on his head. This was him alright: Marcus Edge, hermit druid.
“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, huh? You want to put up a fight? Well, goddamn, man, you’ve got one now, bitch!” shouted the soldier for hire when he raised his gauss rifle and opened automatic fire. That many plutonium bullets would have been enough to shred a normal human being into dust. Hell, the surgeons would need a microscope to put his sorry ass back together again. But when the storm of bullets ended, there was no corpse.
Instead all Mitch O’Connor got was a deafening bird squawk right in his left ear. Marcus, who now morphed into a parrot, continued to blast his windpipes in his opponent’s ear and double the man over as he got a headache. When the druid believed his adversary had enough, he flew off into the sunset and left Mitch to clutch his aching head.
The sudden drop in volume inspired the mercenary to aim his rifle and unleash another rainstorm of violence upon his opponent. The shredding impact only resulted in one feather this time. On measly little feather.
“What the hell’s going on here?!” Good question, Mr. O’Connor. What was going on was that Marcus Edge had now morphed into a charging rhino. The tank-like beast barreled and stampeded his way across the grass and knocked a few trees over. With little time for his opponent to react, Marcus gored Mitch and sent him flying backwards several feet, knocking a few trees over himself.
That power armor was a blessing for Mitch since he had just survived a high drop and getting spear tackled by a rhino. But now the mercenary was feeling the pain. He was so exhausted from these attacks that he took longer than usual to get up. He crashed into trees, for god’s sake. Trees! Yet he continued to be brash and cocky in the face of danger.
“Is that all you got, you son of a bitch? What are you going to change into now, a small puppy? Are you going to bark your way to victory?” yelled Mitch.
Changing from a rhino back to his human form, Marcus slowly approached his nemesis and said, “No, I’m not going to do any barking today. That’s been your job since you landed on Stardust, you asshole.”
With Mitch watching in awe of his opponent, Marcus continued his speech with, “You know what I detest about the human race? You people think you have the right to conquer whatever the hell you want. You did it on earth with pretty much every group of people that wasn’t white, including Indians and Africans. That’s all you guys do: just take, take, take. You have some oil? I’ll take that. You have human rights? I’ll take that as well. Is that supposed to be impressive? To who, exactly? Your mother? Your father? Your trophy wife? The president himself? How many more people have to die before you’re finally satisfied with the things you already have! You make me sick! You all make me sick!”
An uncomfortable hush had fallen over the scene and then Marcus laid into Mitch some more, “That’s why I came to Stardust: to get away from it all. And now some space jockey like you decides to come to my world and sell it to some rich asshole? Let me fill you in on a little secret, buddy boy. Stardust isn’t just any tiny planet. It’s the product of my own imagination. As long as I keep being creative, I can manipulate any part of this world I want while you only have that stupid rifle to overcompensate for your small penis. To put it in words even a money-hungry thug like you can understand…you were screwed the minute you stepped foot on my world.”
This would have been the best time for Mitch O’Connor to get back in his spaceship and tell his bosses at World Corp to shove it. Just leave now while he still had his peace of mind and still had his health. But instead he decided to keep playing the role of an arrogant jerk-ass. He yelled, “You worthless piece of shit!” prior to opening fire yet again.
Except this time it wasn’t just plutonium bullets. It was also fireballs, ice sickles, lightning bolts, biological sludge, and laser beams, all of which were hidden compartments on his rifle and all of which were necessary in doing his job to destroy entire planets to get them ready for flipping.
After unloading a cataclysm of agony that Armageddon itself could never produce, Mitch didn’t even check to see if there was a corpse this time. He just dropped to his hands and knees, breathed deeply, and laughed his ass off. “I got you, bitch! I got you this time! And there ain’t nothing you can do about it!”
Mitch was so busy laughing his way to insanity that he didn’t realize he was sinking in a mud pit. Even when the mud was completely covering his space helmet, he couldn’t have cared less. It was when he was underneath the mud pit and into a cavern of filth that he realized what was going on. The realization hit him even harder when Marcus was standing there with his arms folded saying, “What took you so long?”
“No…no…this ain’t happening, man! This ain’t happening! Don’t you ever fucking die, man?!” screamed a deranged Mitch O’Connor.
Marcus laid a hand on his invader’s metal shoulder and said, “Old druids don’t die. They just get better.” With Mitch shedding tears of defeat, Marcus Edge transformed into a gigantic grizzly bear and started chewing and mauling his way through the metal armor, which at this point was a lot like opening a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli. Oh, the meat sauce inside was going to be so worth all this rage.
Friday, April 17, 2015
"Nature of the Beast" by Adam Mansbach
BOOK TITLE: Nature of the Beast
AUTHOR: Adam Mansbach
YEAR: 2012
GENRE: Graphic Novel
SUBGENRE: Science Fiction
GRADE: Mixed
Single father, alligator wrestler, and all-around tough guy Bruno Bolo enters a tournament pitting himself against the deadliest animals from around the world from sharks to gorillas to polar bears to whatever else can snap a normal man’s spine in half within seconds. He thinks he’s going to earn a million dollars for his victory, but the tournament is really part of a conspiracy to determine who fights the alien invaders who want to bring the apocalypse to earth. Bruno is already a Gary-Stu-esque superman, but after being sprayed with angry hormones, he’s pretty much unstoppable.
Just like with any science-fiction, fantasy, or superhero graphic novel, badass violence is a must. Bruno and the wild animals he fights not only bring the violence, they leave blood bombs behind them. If you’re a fan of hardcore action, you’re going to get it with this graphic novel, no question about it.
I personally don’t care if Bruno comes off as a Gary-Stu. As a child, I played videogames where Gary-Stu’s were the main characters (Ryu from Street Fighter, the barbarian from Diablo II, Gorge from Unreal Championship, etc.) Yes, I know it’s intended to be a literary slur, but I’m allowed to enjoy a little hardcore violence every now and then. I still enjoy it to this day when I’m watching WWE and Roman Reigns is punching everyone’s lights out.
Here’s what I do take issue with: the animal aspect. I have dogs and cats around my home and they’re all as sweet as can be. While it is true that the animals in Nature of the Beast are a lot scarier than my dogs and cats, it doesn’t take away from them being innocent animals. These animals didn’t choose to be fighters in a tournament; they were raised that way by the scientists behind the scenes. Hell, there was even a scene where one of the scientists sprayed the anger hormones in a pit bull’s face. The dog went from being a smiling puppy-dup to a raging lunatic within seconds of being sprayed.
Bottom line: forcing “scary” animals to fight each other is no different from forcing dogs and roosters to do the same. At least when it happens in the wild, the animal is protecting something precious of theirs. What do they have to fight for in an arena under the watch of scientists? Fame? Fortune? Sadistic urges? I’ll get off my soapbox now.
This book gets mixed reception from me, or for those of you on Good Reads, 3 out of 5 stars. When you make your own conscience decision to buy this graphic novel (and it is your own choice in the end), you have to find a balance within your mind between the badass action and the sympathy for animals. You might like the bloody violence and give this thing a full five stars. You might be the future president of the ASPCA and give this book one star. You might be a fence-rider like me who finds validity in both sides of the spectrum. Or if you want to avoid this debate altogether, buy a copy of Adam Mansbach’s “Go the Fuck to Sleep” instead. I have a niece and that book made me giggle.
***MOVIE QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“It’s not every day you see a horse with two rear-ends!”
-Aladdin from “Aladdin”-
AUTHOR: Adam Mansbach
YEAR: 2012
GENRE: Graphic Novel
SUBGENRE: Science Fiction
GRADE: Mixed
Single father, alligator wrestler, and all-around tough guy Bruno Bolo enters a tournament pitting himself against the deadliest animals from around the world from sharks to gorillas to polar bears to whatever else can snap a normal man’s spine in half within seconds. He thinks he’s going to earn a million dollars for his victory, but the tournament is really part of a conspiracy to determine who fights the alien invaders who want to bring the apocalypse to earth. Bruno is already a Gary-Stu-esque superman, but after being sprayed with angry hormones, he’s pretty much unstoppable.
Just like with any science-fiction, fantasy, or superhero graphic novel, badass violence is a must. Bruno and the wild animals he fights not only bring the violence, they leave blood bombs behind them. If you’re a fan of hardcore action, you’re going to get it with this graphic novel, no question about it.
I personally don’t care if Bruno comes off as a Gary-Stu. As a child, I played videogames where Gary-Stu’s were the main characters (Ryu from Street Fighter, the barbarian from Diablo II, Gorge from Unreal Championship, etc.) Yes, I know it’s intended to be a literary slur, but I’m allowed to enjoy a little hardcore violence every now and then. I still enjoy it to this day when I’m watching WWE and Roman Reigns is punching everyone’s lights out.
Here’s what I do take issue with: the animal aspect. I have dogs and cats around my home and they’re all as sweet as can be. While it is true that the animals in Nature of the Beast are a lot scarier than my dogs and cats, it doesn’t take away from them being innocent animals. These animals didn’t choose to be fighters in a tournament; they were raised that way by the scientists behind the scenes. Hell, there was even a scene where one of the scientists sprayed the anger hormones in a pit bull’s face. The dog went from being a smiling puppy-dup to a raging lunatic within seconds of being sprayed.
Bottom line: forcing “scary” animals to fight each other is no different from forcing dogs and roosters to do the same. At least when it happens in the wild, the animal is protecting something precious of theirs. What do they have to fight for in an arena under the watch of scientists? Fame? Fortune? Sadistic urges? I’ll get off my soapbox now.
This book gets mixed reception from me, or for those of you on Good Reads, 3 out of 5 stars. When you make your own conscience decision to buy this graphic novel (and it is your own choice in the end), you have to find a balance within your mind between the badass action and the sympathy for animals. You might like the bloody violence and give this thing a full five stars. You might be the future president of the ASPCA and give this book one star. You might be a fence-rider like me who finds validity in both sides of the spectrum. Or if you want to avoid this debate altogether, buy a copy of Adam Mansbach’s “Go the Fuck to Sleep” instead. I have a niece and that book made me giggle.
***MOVIE QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“It’s not every day you see a horse with two rear-ends!”
-Aladdin from “Aladdin”-
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