Jayden McCameron, Gamer and Funko Pop Collector from "Virtuous"

 

Sting (the musician, not the wrestler)

 

Two-Sentence Horror Story: "The Gold Standard"

The honeybee thanked Preston for moving it out of harm’s way by stinging his finger and leaving a throbbing welt. After a cussing storm that rivaled most Floridian hurricanes, Preston said you’re welcome by unzipping his jeans and showering the bee with his own brand of golden honey.

Every Little Thing I Do Is Funny

(In the style of “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” by The Police)

 

VERSE 1

I stood up in front of the class

Gave a presentation so I could pass

From the very first word

Laughter’s all I ever heard

In mass

 

CHORUS

Every little thing I do is funny

Everything I do just cracks them up

Even the professor’s spitting coffee

From his “Number One Teacher” cup

 

VERSE 2

I pulled out a Snickers bar

Because the time for lunch was just too far

Got a big enough belly

One that wiggles like it’s jelly

Har-dee-har!

 

CHORUS

Every little thing I do is funny

Everything I do just cracks them up

Even the professor’s spitting coffee

From his “Number One Teacher” cup

 

BRIDGE

I called them a bunch of names

Stormed out of the room in shame

I’d walk back to my dorm room

To be all doom and gloom

Everyone tried to assure me

They weren’t punching down with glee

They just think my voice is lovely

It’s a low-pitch melody

 

CHORUS

Every little thing I do is funny

Everything I do just cracks them up

Even the professor’s spitting coffee

From his “Number One Teacher” cup

Concerts

Well…I’m burned out and bored out of my mind for the thirteenth day in a row. So to alleviate this boredom, I’m going to post a list of all the concerts I’ve ever been to in my life. Nostalgia feels good sometimes, you know?

1992: 

• MC Hammer X Boys II Men (July 17th at the Seattle Center Arena)

1994: 

• WWF House Show (Sacramento, CA)

1996: 

• Sting and Geggy-Tah (August 30th at the Irvine Meadows Amphitheater in Irvine, CA)

2000: 

• Roger Waters: In the Flesh (June 27th at the Rose Garden Arena in Portland, OR)

2001: 

• Rammstein (July 6th at the Roseland Theater in Portland, OR)

2003: 

• The Moody Blues (June 14th at Marymoor Park in Redmond, WA)

• WWE House Show (Tacoma Dome)

2004: 

• Linkin Park, P.O.D, Hubastank, and Story of the Year (February 13th at the Tacoma Dome)

• Incubus and Sparta (August 7th at the Key Arena in Seattle)

• Korn, Breaking Benjamin, Chevelle, Skindred, and Instruction (November 14th at the Tacoma Dome)

2005: 

• Papa Roach, Skindred, and The Fuck-Ups (February 17th at the Showbox Market in Seattle)

• WWE House Show (Tacoma Dome)

• Green Day and Jimmy Eat World (September 26th at the Tacoma Dome)

• System of a Down and The Mars Volta (October 5th at the Key Arena in Seattle)

2006: 

• Korn, Mudvayne, and 10 Years (March 5th at the Tacoma Dome)

• Magical Strings (Bremerton, WA)

• Roger Waters: Dark Side of the Moon (October 12th at the Key Arena in Seattle)

2008: 

• Nightwish and Sonata Arctica (September 9th at the Showbox SoDo in Seattle)

2009: 

• WWE No Way Out (February 15th at the Key Arena in Seattle)

• Green Day and The Bravery (July 3rd at the Key Arena in Seattle)

• Soulfly, Prong, and Mutiny Within (October 7th at the Showbox Market in Seattle)

2010: 

• Tool and Rajas (July 10th at the Key Arena in Seattle)

• Roger Waters: The Wall (December 11th at the Tacoma Dome)

2011: 

• Rammstein (May 15th at the Tacoma Dome)

2012: 

• Rammstein (May 14th at the Tacoma Dome)

• Nickelback, Bush, Seether, and My Darkest Days (June 23rd at the Tacoma Dome)

• Linkin Park X Incubus (September 5th at the Tacoma Dome)

2013: 

• Magical Strings (Bremerton, WA)

• Ladysmith Black Mambazo (Edmonds, WA)

• Rodriguez and Jenny O (April 30th at the 1st Bank Center in Denver, CO)

• Bill Maher (June 22nd at the Paramount Theater in Seattle)

• Three Days Grace and Otherwise (August 23rd at the Showbox SoDo in Seattle)

• Papa Roach, Pop Evil, and Age of Days (October 5th at the Showbox Market in Seattle)

2014: 

• The Pink Floyd Experience (March 29th at the Admiral Theater in Bremerton, WA)

2015: 

• Cavalera Conspiracy, Death Angel, Corrosion of Conformity, Lody Kong, and Sanction VIII (May 1st at Studio Seven in Seattle)

• Final Fantasy Symphony (July 10th in Seattle)

• Slipknot, Lamb of God, Three Days Grace, Bullet For My Valentine, Theory of a Deadman, and Motionless in White (August 23rd at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

2016: 

• Nightwish, Sonata Arctica, and Delain (March 7th at the Showbox SoDo in Seattle)

• Rob Zombie X Korn (July 27th at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Slipknot X Marilyn Manson (August 11th at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Disturbed, Breaking Benjamin, Anthrax, Alter Bridge, Saint Asonia, Pop Evil, Stitched Up Heart, and Windowpane (August 21st at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Five Finger Death Punch, Shinedown, Sixx AM, and As Lions (November 5th at the Tacoma Dome)

2017: 

• Garrison Keillor  (April 15th at the Pantages Theater in Tacoma, WA)

• Roger Waters: Us & Them (June 24th at the Tacoma Dome)

• Brit Floyd (July 1st at the Paramount Theater in Seattle)

• Brian Regan and Dennis Regan (July 28th at the Pantages Theater in Tacoma, WA)

• Green Day (August 1st at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Metallica, Avenged Sevenfold, and Gojira (August 9th at Century Link Field in Seattle)

• Incubus and Jimmy Eat World (August 19th at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Jason Mewes (September 14th at the Tacoma Comedy Club)

2018:

• Pop Evil, Black Map, and Palaye Royale (February 25th at El Corzazon in Seattle)

• Starset, Palisades, Grabbitz, and Year of the Locust (February 28th at El Corazon in Seattle)

• Papa Roach and Nothing More (May 4th at the Showbox SoDo in Seattle)

• Soulfly, Nile, After the Fallout, and Devilation (May 13th at Studio Seven in Seattle)

• Breaking Benjamin, Five Finger Death Punch, and Bad Wolves (July 16th at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Seether, 10 Years, and The Dead Deads (July 31st at the Showbox SoDo in Seattle)

• Halestorm, In This Moment, and New Years Day (August 17th at the WaMu Theater in Seattle)

• Evanescence and Lindsey Stirling (September 7th at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

2019:

• Jason Mewes (February 2nd at the Tacoma Comedy Club)

• Soulfly, Unearth, Incite, Skinflint, Odyssian, and Emanon (February 23rd at Club Sur Rocks in Seattle)

• Within Temptation, In Flames, and Smash Into Pieces (March 16th at the Showbox SoDo in Seattle)

• Slipknot, Volbeat, and Gojira (July 30th at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Rob Zombie, Marilyn Manson, Corrosion of Conformity, Palaye Royale, and Bones UK (August 3rd at the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, WA)

• Ghost and Nothing More (September 19th at the WaMu Theater in Seattle)

• Starset, Palisades, Hyde, and A Brilliant Lie (October 13th at the Neptune Theater in Seattle)

• Babymetal and The Hu (October 16th at the Paramount Theater in Seattle)

• Hellyeah, Nonpoint, and Deepfall (December 10th at El Corazon in Seattle)

2020:

• Soulfly, Toxic Holocaust, and Madzilla (February 10th at El Corazon in Seattle)

Silent Warrior, Chapter 20

With the sun’s gentle rays caressing their skins and the ocean’s waves to lull them into comfort, Scott and Adrienne strolled along the beach together hand in hand without a care in the world. Scott’s tan cargo shorts clung to his hips like he actually had the body of an athlete. Adrienne’s purple bikini revealed her best physical features, though none could match the beauty of her smile as she pecked her boyfriend on the cheek.

Somewhere in one of the straw huts, a portable stereo played the underrated Sting classic “When We Dance”. And by god, the couple was going to do just that. Scott spun his girlfriend around and leaned her backwards while she lifted one of her gorgeous bare feet in the air. The two lovers shared another kiss together, this one much longer and more passionate than the first.

The two hugged each other and slow-danced to Sting’s lyrics. When Adrienne asked him why his face grew serious all of the sudden, Scott said, “Can we never leave this beach? Do we have to go back to Perkins City?”

“Trust me, babe, I’d love nothing more than to spend forever with you on this beach. We have everything we’ll ever need here: good food, gentle waves, and enough sunshine to keep us warm until the end of time,” said Adrienne in a seductive voice. Her face also grew serious when she finished her sentiment with, “Unfortunately, we have to go back soon. Vacations are only temporary as we both know from going to school all the time. It seems like time is just flying by and we can’t catch up with it.”

Scott embraced his girlfriend tightly and begged, “No, I’m not going back! Please don’t make me go back. I fucking hate that place. It’s like a reverse fucking Disneyland!”

Adrienne pushed him to a close distance and said, “I know, Scott. Trust me, I know. If I go back to Perkins City, my dad is just going to make my life a living hell, just like he did yours. Reality sucks, but that’s what life is.”

“I don’t want this life anymore,” confessed Scott. “I’ve waited all this time to be free and I’m not going to just have it snatched up from underneath me.”

“But then who’s going to pay the bills, honey? What will we do for money? This beach isn’t paying our rent. It’s just an escape from our responsibilities. Whether we like it or not, we’re part of a community.”

“No, don’t say that word! Don’t say the C-word!” snapped Scott as he dropped to his knees and covered his ears. “Don’t say that fucking word! I hate that word! Oh god, oh god, oh god, I hate that word!”

“Scott, please! You’re scaring me! I didn’t mean to trigger you!” said a frightened Adrienne as he gently rested her palm on her boyfriend’s shoulder. The minute Scott’s tears splashed on the soft sand, she hugged him around the head and comforted him with, “I’m sorry. I’ll never say that word again. We can stay here if you’d like. It’s not like this island is in short supply of jobs or anything like that.”

“Jobs?” wept Scott. “Who’s going to hire me? What boss in his right mind wants to hire a guy who falls to pieces after every little thing?”

Placing both hands on her boyfriend’s shoulders and giving him a stern look, Adrienne said, “You have to take responsibility to wake up from your nightmares. You can’t live this way forever, my dear. I can only do so much for you. Now it’s your turn to fight back against the world. You can’t let these people beat you so easily. Fight for me, Scott. Fight for us. Fight for our child!”

The two of them stood up slowly together and Scott’s watery eyes were now staring lovingly into his girlfriend’s sweet face. “You’re right, babe. You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry I acted the way I did. Can you do me one last favor before we leave here? Kiss me. Kiss me as hard as you can. If I’m going to fight for what’s right, then I’m going to need all the strength I can get.”

“Of course I’ll kiss you, silly. Come here.” Just as promised, the two of them locked lips and swirled their tongues in each other’s mouths. Adrienne’s lips became much more aggressive as Scott held her closer.

Scott closed his eyes and enjoyed the passionate kiss…until he felt some strange presences crawling around on his tongue. He forcefully pulled away and his eyes shot open in horror at the face he was now gazing into. The visage of Aloysius Striker sang her operatic “Good Morning” song while Scott desperately spit out worm after worm, maggot after maggot. He stuck his index finger in his mouth and barfed the last of the worms onto the sand below, turning his body nearly inside out from the deadly force.

“Good morning to you! Good morning to you! Good morning, dear Scotty! Good morning to you!” Mrs. Striker’s voice became progressively deeper and more demonic as she sang her whimsical tune. Her teeth looked more dangerous than those of a great white shark. Her evilly-slanted eyes glowed with orange neon. The worms in the back of her throat slithered down her jaw and all Scott could do about it was scream his head off.

“Order! Order in the courtroom!” commanded the judge as he smashed his gavel and awakened Scott from his nightmare. Drenched in sweat and still wearing his hospital scrubs, he found himself back in the defendant’s chair with his lawyer by his side. Scott’s breathing grew deeper and deeper while his lawyer tried to calm him down with shoulder pats.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” asked the judge.

“We have, your honor,” said the lead juror. Scott’s hazy vision was now laser focused as his heart beat quickly and adrenaline flooded his nervous system. Even though his “vacation” with Adrienne was only temporary, he had to take that lesson to heart: fight for what you believe in. Fight for what’s right. Never give up. This internal monologue steeled his raw nerves to where he could focus on the verdict. No matter what the jury decided, this fight wouldn’t be over by a long shot and Scott showed that with his eyebrows furrowed.

“In the case of The People vs. Scott George, on one count statutory rape, we find the defendant Mr. Scott George…guilty as charged.”

“No!” cried Adrienne from a far corner of the courtroom while the judge’s gavel banging restored order to a chaotic situation. No amount of mallet whacking could drain the tears from Adrienne Simpson’s eyes as she hugged her mother tightly.

“Bail set at five thousand dollars. Thank you, members of the jury. Bailiff, please take the defendant away. I’ll hand down his sentence soon enough. Case dismissed,” said the judge before banging the gavel one last time.

The bailiff grabbed Scott’s arm and brought him to his feet before cuffing his hands behind his back and pulling him away. The defendant’s eyes watered as his lawyer mouthed the words, “I’m sorry for everything.” Scott nodded at him as he was being half-dragged down the aisle.

“Scott!” shouted Adrienne as she rushed to the center, stopping the bailiff and his charge in their tracks. She placed a hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder and whisper-sobbed, “Promise me this isn’t over! Promise me you’ll fight through the pain!”

“I promise you, Adrienne. We will see each other again.” He tried to kiss her, but was immediately pulled away by the scruff of his neck. He never took his eyes off of his beautiful, yet sorrowful Adrienne Simpson, even when she turned away to hug her mother once more.

Before Scott could cross the threshold leading to the outside world, he distinctly heard his girlfriend shout, “I’m not a goddamn victim, you assholes!” The uncaring judge banged the gavel even louder in order to shut her up.

The one thing that raced through Scott’s mind as he was being hauled away into the police car was anxiety over whether or not he made a promise he couldn’t keep. Maybe the two of them would see each other again…in the next life. Maybe there could finally be justice in a political climate where there was none…in the next life. Maybe the world would finally pull its head out of its ass…in the next life.

Such a funny phrase for someone as atheistic as Scott George: the next life. He had only heard about its beauty through the Pop Evil song of the same name. Even without his trusty MP3 player, he could still hear Leigh Kakaty’s golden voice crooning that lovely rock tune to him. Scott was surprised that his mind was cooperative for a change instead of trying to force-feed him worms, or worse yet, the philosophy of a conformist community.

In many ways, the prison system was a “community” of its own. Everybody wore the same clothing. Everybody did the same activities. Ate the same disgusting food. Lived with the same disgusting people. Lived by the rules of the same disgusting prison guards. Lived under the thumb of a warden who could only be described as Aloysius Striker on steroids. And to think, that woman was actually a real person instead of a traumatic Floydian ghost.

That reminded Scott of something that brought out even more wormy feelings in his stomach: would he see Alan Young in prison too? What kind of person would he become after such a short time of captivity? Alan was already a nasty son of a bitch. What would he look like in an orange jumpsuit? Would he be covered in prison tattoos? Would he look twice as ugly as when he went in? Would he actually be good at fighting this time around? Scott somehow took solace in the idea that the other prisoners wouldn’t put up with his rotten attitude. But even that modicum of solace wasn’t enough to shut up the worms in Scott’s belly and brain. Where was a gavel when he needed one?

B-Shirt

Malcolm Draper leaned against the boys’ locker room door while fingering the zipper handle on his closed up jacket. He dared not pass through the gates of his own personal hell, but the buzzer was about to ring and being even a second late to class would have resulted in draconian detention, which was weird because the gym teacher never seemed to be around when it truly counted.

The sequence of the past few weeks counted a lot for Malcolm. The fact that his last name Draper could be modified with an I instead of the first R lent itself to some cruel traumatic jokes echoing throughout his brain. He could hear the deep-voiced jocks shouting, “Diaper boy!” and “Dirty diaper!” within his own personal recesses. They even came up with a clever rhyme: “Draper-Raper”.

Immature insults by themselves carried no weight to Malcolm. But in multiple bursts throughout his entire day, even during important moments like exams and quizzes, it was the psychological equivalent of taking a series of sharp jabs from a heavyweight boxer. The mental bruises remained fresh with obnoxious voices. The muscles in Malcolm’s body remained tense at all times. The thought of walking through the door made him slightly nauseous with extra chills running through his back and shoulders.

“Today’s the day,” he whispered to himself. “It’s now or never.” He threw back the door and trudged down the hallway into the locker room. The further he ventured towards his own locker, the louder the laughter became, both on the inside and outside. He could feel his insides being ground up like hamburger. His face burned and prickled with anticipation. He purposefully kept his head down with his jacket hood over his face in hopes Daniel Burn wouldn’t notice him. But as it was…

“Hey, diaper-boy’s here today! What’s the matter, fag-tard? You shit yourself again? Don’t worry, you can wipe your ass on that stupid Sting T-shirt you wore yesterday!” The grating testosterone-pumped voice echoed throughout the locker room and the laughter grew louder to where Malcolm felt claustrophobic even in this big space. He slowly pulled his hood off and poked his head up to see the source of those jokes was indeed the letterman jacket-wearing football stud Daniel Burn congregating with his similarly dressed pals.

“You’re right, Daniel,” said Malcolm, earning the silence he desperately needed (even if it was out of confusion). “I’ll never wear that Sting shirt again.” Daniel and his muscle buddies mockingly sang the lyrics to “Every Breath You Take” and laughed like monkeys. This would have been a perfect time for Malcolm to break down, vomit, and cry. But instead he smiled and said, “My dad’s a T-shirt maker. So I figured I should dress for the job that I want, not the job I have.”

Malcolm Draper reached for his zipper and the rambunctious jocks made unintelligible jokes about him doing a striptease. He slowly pulled it down and opened his jacket to once again earn his silence. This time the jocks, Daniel Burn included, had wide-eyed shock on their faces. Any laughter remaining was limited to a nervous snicker. In case there was more confusion, Malcolm threw off his coat and exposed his custom-made T-shirt to he entire locker room. The top said, “Daniel Is My Bitch” in Floydian letters while beneath the words was a Photoshopped picture of Daniel Burn wearing a ball gag. “I bet that Sting shirt’s looking pretty good right now, isn’t it?” asked Malcolm with a mocking grin.

Daniel’s nearest friend leaned over and quietly said to him, “You’re not going to take that shit, are you?”

“Of course he’s going to take it!” belted Malcolm. “He can spew all these insults about my last name and my clothing, but he’s never thrown a fucking punch in his life! And no, fisting a horse in the asshole doesn’t count as a punch, buddy!”

Daniel’s square jaw went from O-mouthed shock to frowning rage. He brushed his blond crew cut back and threw his own jacket to the ground before slowly approaching Malcolm to the sounds of “ooo’s” and “uh-oh’s” from the rest of the students. The two bitter enemies stood nose to nose with Daniel’s height and weight making Malcolm look like a midget. “I’ve beaten up lots of guys in my life, diaper-kid,” threatened Daniel. “Fags, niggers, Jews, towel-heads…you’re just another dead ass motherfucker on that long list. I’m going to rip your fucking head off, bitch.”

The gigantic jock threw a quick and powerful overhead punch, which Malcolm ducked before burying his shoulder in Daniel’s gut and plowing him against the bathroom stall. The sounds of students chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight” echoed throughout the locker room while the sworn enemies wrestled on the floor.

“We’ll see who the real bitch is, diaper-dick!” shouted Daniel as he sat on Malcolm’s chest hoping for an advantage. All the jock got was elbow’s to his temples and knees to his spine. Even Daniel’s bulky body couldn’t withstand the small strikes as he rolled off of Malcolm after a few jabs.

Malcolm attempted to get to a vertical base only to be bear hugged by Daniel and wrestled with some more. “Where the hell’s the teacher?!” shouted one of the students to a crowd of uncaring bystanders. Malcolm pushed the question out of his mind and threw backwards elbows at Daniel’s cheekbones.

The hulking football player put an end to this impromptu MMA match when he lifted Malcolm’s carcass in the air and slammed him down with a thunderous thud to the concrete floor. The smaller fighter felt something snap in his leg and screamed louder than a train whistle. He did his damnedest to hold back the tears, but the pain in his torn knee radiated throughout his tortured body, his nervous system burning like a fiery orphanage. The tears dropped whether Malcolm wanted them to or not, but he tried to save face by rolling on his stomach.

By the terrified silence of the other students and the crushing grip on his arm as he was rolled over, Malcolm knew shit had gone down. Through red watery eyes, he gazed up at Daniel Burn’s bruised and bloodied face, the rage of which was more violent than his wounds. Daniel reached down at Malcolm’s shirt collar and ripped the B-shirt in two before holding it in the air like a trophy. “Who’s the bitch now?!” Daniel screamed with nerve-rattling anger. “Who’s the bitch now?! You want to be a tough guy?! You think you can beat the system?! Welcome to high school, diaper-pie! The shit only gets worse from here!”

The rambunctious conversation was interrupted with the sound of someone clearing his throat. Daniel and Malcolm peeked over to see what was up, Daniel’s face a masterpiece of horror and Malcolm’s face a phantasmal smile. Smaller students, geekier students, and even one of the jocks were all wearing B-shirts while the rest of the bullies backed up in amazement. Same slogan, same ball-gagged bitch.

“You see that, Danny boy?” asked Malcolm as pulled himself to his feet with a nearby railing while clutching his aching knee. “Dress for the job you want, not the job you have. These kids are done being your bitches. Now it’s time for you to be theirs.” Malcolm leaned in closer and whispered in Daniel’s ear, “This is what happens when you piss off a lot of people. You poke the bear, the bear eats you alive!” He noticed Daniel clutching his own buzz cut and breathing intensely, to which Malcolm replied, “You can’t possibly beat ALL of them up, can you?”

Daniel’s breathing grew deeper and more dragon-like. “This is bullshit,” he whispered. “I’m nobody’s bitch! I’m the star quarterback! I get all the chicks! You fuckers just sit around and read comic books all day while blowing your dogs!” The B-shirt wearing students slowly approached Daniel like an army of flesh-hungry zombies, to which the bully screamed, “No! This shit isn’t happening!” before bolting out the side door onto the streets.

“You see that, everyone?” said Malcolm with a sly grin and teary eyes. “If you play football twenty-four hours a day, you can run as fast as him!” The sound of a bus’s horn honking followed by a bone-crunching collision and Daniel’s painful cries caused Malcolm to shrug and quip, “Well, not fast enough apparently.”

The hulking gym teacher burst through the locker room door shouting, “What the hell’s going on here?” His authoritative mood was brought back to earth when he saw all of the students wearing B-shirts and Malcolm nursing his hyper-extended knee. “What the fuck?” he whispered to nobody in particular.

“We’re so glad you could finally join us,” said Malcolm. “Actually, you might want to bring a janitor here too. Daniel Burn left his guts all over the road. Oh wait, I forgot: Daniel Burn doesn’t have any guts. And that bone crunching noise wasn’t his spine shattering, because he doesn’t have that either. Seriously, those city bus drivers need to be more careful on the road.”

Every Pic You Post

(In the style of “Every Breath You Take” by The Police.)

Every pic you post

Every friend you poke

Every meme you share

Every feeling you bear

I’ll be browsing you

Every single day

Every app you play

Every Face Book page

Every rant you rage

I’ll be browsing you

I can’t refrain

You’re in the public domain

How vicariously I live

With every like you give

Every video you film

Every bean you spill

Every life event thrill

Every second you kill

I’ll be browsing you

Since you’re here, I’ll look you up with no remorse

You’re already in the public eye, of course

There’s nothing they can do in the police force

There’s no sense in taking my big ass to court

I’ll browse whoever I goddamn well please!

I can’t refrain

You’re in the public domain

How vicariously I live

With every like you give

Every video you film

Every bean you spill

Every life event thrill

Every second you kill

I’ll be browsing you

The Dark Blade

***THE DARK BLADE***

Childhood is a time for developing one’s creativity and imagination. We buy action figures and Legos so that we can act out our own adventures. We draw pictures with our own naïve vision of what the world should be. We build things out of ordinary objects to show that there’s a world beyond their intended use. For me personally, my favorite form of creativity was coming up with ideas for videogames. One of those videogame ideas was intended to be a rival to Squaresoft’s Chrono Trigger and it was called The Dark Blade.

Chrono Trigger as a Super Nintendo game was everything a child could ask for: beautiful storytelling, emotional characters, innovative settings, and exciting game play. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to play a game about a spiky haired teenager named Crono who travels through time in order to prevent a 1999 apocalypse using lightning magic and katana skills? Who in their prepubescent years wouldn’t have the world’s biggest crush on crossbow fighter Marle or prehistoric vixen Ayla? Who wouldn’t want to use Magus’s shadow magic or Frog’s water magic to overcome the toughest obstacles?

In my pre-teen years, I had a tall task ahead of me if I was going to formulate an RPG that would measure up to the greatness of Chrono Trigger. Therefore, I had The Dark Blade, a supremely underdeveloped story about a spiky haired teenager named David who along with his friends tries to keep the title artifact out of the hands of The Dark Sorcerer (notice the theme of darkness here?). David had the hair of Guile from Street Fighter II, a black karate outfit, ruby boots, vampire fangs (what?!), and the swords of Billy and Jimmy Lee from Double Dragon V. Oh, and he also has the lightning magic of Crono. And he starts the game by going to a carnival, just like Crono.

Being as ignorant as I was about copyright laws, I stole pieces of creative fuel from any source I could find. Princess Crystal Hershey got her last name from the chocolate bar and her outfit from Celes from Final Fantasy VI. Ninja Prince Boris Hershey got his character design from Shadow, also a Final Fantasy VI standout. Nixer (careful how you say that) is a direct rip-off of a Magic: the Gathering card that featured an old ragged man carrying a scythe. Nixer’s magical element was Aura, which is a direct theft of the Aura Bolt technique used by Sabin from Final Fantasy VI.

The Dark Blade’s soundtrack would be stolen directly from albums by The Police, The Moody Blues, Sting, and Metallica. Talk about a bunch of bands that don’t belong in the same concert! Metallica’s “Ride the Lightning” album would serve as battle music, both for normal enemies, mini-bosses, and regular bosses. The Police’s hit “Spirits in the Material World” would serve as carnival music. The Moody Blues’s song “The Voice” would serve as romantic fuel (in a time where I was too young to give a shit about love). Sting’s “Mad About You” would also serve as romantic music even though David and Crystal never officially shack up (again, because I didn’t give two shits and a flying fuck about love back then).

With all of these stolen properties, how would they mesh against the actual story? Somewhere along the way, David would use a lightsaber/baseball bat reminiscent of Star Wars and WWF Wrestlemania: The Arcade Game. He would also ride a hover cycle reminiscent of Space Quest IV. So far, so good. But then we eventually have to get to the depressive dip of the game. Turns out The Dark Sorcerer got a hold of The Dark Blade after all. With its powers, he turned the entire world’s population (except for David, Crystal, Nixer, and Boris) into stone. Turning somebody into a stone statue is straight from the Final Fantasy franchise. Having the bad guy win for a while is the same scenario that happened in Final Fantasy VI when Kefka turned The World of Balance (blue water and green pastures) into the World of Ruin (red water and wastelands).

With the innocence of a child and the creative fuel of a madman, I was sure to have my videogame idea mailed off to Sqauresoft so that they could get cracking on making it. The one thing that kept me from doing so was my brother James’s constant talk about copyright laws and what could happen if I violated them. According to him, I could have my wages garnished and my property stolen by the government. I justified my right to the profits by saying, “I could lock the doors!” Then James said that the Fire Department would come busting through to help the government take my stuff. At one point I whined, “Stop telling me these crummy facts!”, to which he said, “They’re true!”

While I didn’t want my creativity to take a backseat to copyright laws, I had no other choice as I got older and discovered how ridiculous they can be. Viacom and Disney have sued the shit out of anyone and everyone who uploaded their content onto You Tube. Disney has sued a daycare center for using Mickey Mouse decals to decorate the joint. If you want to argue lawsuits, then people these days will sue over anything, and I do mean anything. Donald Trump sued Bill Maher because the comedian said our now president was a descendant of orangutans. James Woods sued a Twitter user for saying that he was a coke head online. The more money you have, the more weight you can throw around in a courtroom. Videogame corporations have a lot of money and by proxy can throw more weight around than WWE Hall of Famers Yokozuna and Rikishi combined.

If The Dark Blade ended up becoming a novel idea in modern day Garrisonism, I suppose I could do away with all of the theft and turn it into something original and fun. People rarely play Super Nintendo games anymore (except for nostalgia purposes on ROM Emulators), so The Dark Blade would have to be a novel. David shouldn’t be such a Gary-Stu for his age, which means no vampire fangs, ruby boots, or dragon swords. Crystal and Boris shouldn’t have the last name Hershey because there have been too many jokes about skid marks over the years thanks to guys like Dave Chappelle. Nixer should have a first name that doesn’t sound like a racial slur. The Dark Sorcerer should have a real name, probably one that doesn’t have “dark” in it.

Turning this childhood videogame idea into a credible novel is a long shot, but I now have the skills and resources to do so as a 31-year-old semi-professional author. Will it rival Chrono Trigger? Ask anybody who’s ever read Occupy Wrestling and they’ll tell you “Hell no!” Then again, nothing can rival Chrono Trigger. It was a special piece of childhood heaven that can’t be taken away no matter how many game consoles 2017 can pump out. You can keep your Halos and Call of Duties and I’ll reminisce in Chrono Trigger’s beauty forever. If anything, I’m clinging to my roots so that I don’t forget how to write The Dark Blade in its truest form. One day, maybe one day David and Crono can have fantasy warfare. We’ve got ears, say cheers! By the way, in case you didn’t know, that last line was stolen from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. I’m a bigger thief than Locke Cole from Final Fantasy VI. Damn it, I did it again!

***THE NEXT FEW DAYS***

While I’m waiting patiently for the Wrestling Observer Newsletter to come out with their 2016 awards, I’m going to have a few creative projects to occupy my time. I only have seven chapters left to read from Ashley Uzzell’s LGBT fairytale (no, that’s not a pun, shut up!) called “Once Upon a Pastry”. I’ll spend the whole day blitzing right through them and offering her my funniest and most poignant critiques. I also have a Dark Fantasy Warrior that needs drawing and his name is Lord McCain, the elf sorcerer from “Emoticon Artist”. Once I’ve officially drawn one hundred colored Dark Fantasy Warriors, I’m going to put their faces in a meme like I did with the uncolored ones. Somewhere along the way, I’ll write the shit out of Demon Axe’s twelfth chapter (don’t rush me, Writer’s Circle, I’ll get to it eventually!). Once I’m done with these tasks, I can begin work on editing the shit out of Poison Tongue Tales and getting it ready for publication. I’ve already edited the first three stories, so that’s SOME progress (again, don’t rush me, Writer’s Circle!). Once I complete these projects, then and only then can I lament not having a WWE Network subscription so that I can see this year’s Royal Rumble and see Bobby Roode win the NXT Championship from Shinsuke Nakamura at the TakeOver special before that. Wish me luck!

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

DET. CLAUDETTE WYMS: Where were you last night?

SUSPECT: I was at home jerking off into a sock. You guys need the evidence?

-The Shield-

My 31st Birthday

***MY 31^ST BIRTHDAY***

This coming Friday (June 3^rd), I’m going to be a 31-year-old man, but I’ll still be a big kid at heart. Age is all about mind over matter: if you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter. I may be too old for a lot of things, but playing with action figures, playing with Legos, snuggling with animals, and writing whacky stories are not among them. Action figures of Konnor, Viktor, and Sting from the WWE are just the beginning for me. June is going to be an eventful month for me in three different ways, my birthday on the third being one of them.

On June 8^th, five days after I turn 31, I’m finally going to have my sleep study. I know this sounds boring to a lot of people, but to me, it’s the most important way I can take care of myself. Whenever I’ve refrained from doing creative activities, it was always because I was too mentally exhausted to carry on with my day. I would go to bed late and wake up late, still feeling sluggish and shitty. The sleep study will determine if I need an oxygen mask for my sleep apnea, which I probably will. Having that oxygen mask and continuing to eat healthy and exercise will be my saving grace when it comes to my lack of energy. More energy means more creativity. More creativity means a happier audience. A happier audience means a happier me.

Three days after I have my sleep study, I’m going to the White River Amphitheater in Auburn, Washington to see a concert headlined by Slipknot and Marilyn Manson with the opening act being Of Mice and Men. This means lots of scary masks, lots of scary makeup, lots of heavy ass metal, and lots of creative fuel for an author whose tank is overflowing. This will be just the first of many concerts I will attend in 2016. In July, it’s Rob Zombie X Korn with In This Moment as opening guests. In August, it’s the Pain in the Grass festival with Disturbed headlining the event. Finally, in November, I’m headed to the Tacoma Dome to see Five Finger Death Punch X Shinedown with Sixx AM and As Lions as the opening acts. Let’s get ready to rage, motherfuckers!

All in all, living on this earth for 31 years has been a great experience. I got to go on many vacations to both American and foreign places. I got to see many concerts of bands I love. I got to snuggle with many puppies and kitties over the years. I’ve written many stories and songs and had them self-published. I’ve met many wonderful people along the way. I got to do all of these things with my loving family on both sides of the marriage. The best part of all of this? I’ve got many more decades to go, many of which will be filled with even more magical moments. Never forget the power of love and happiness; it doesn’t just end after your birthday. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

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

The new week started a few days ago, but not to worry, because I still have a few more days left before the deadline. The prompt will be “Cracked Mirrors” and my story will be called “Subway Smackdown”. It goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

Khan Shou, Monster Warrior

Venice Reyes, Human Model

PROMPT CONFORMITY: The damage to Venice’s car includes shattered mirrors.

SYNOPSIS: In a dystopian future where monsters roam the city freely, Venice’s car is vandalized as she leaves her apartment. The only way she can get to her first modeling gig without being late is to take the subway. Venice tries to find a comfortable place to sit, but the subway train is covered in filthy creatures, both in attitude and appearance. Khan Shou, a seven-foot tall piece of raw meat, takes special interest in her and tries to coax her into a romantic relationship. With no fighting skills and nobody to help her, Venice has to brave this subway ride as best as she can.

On a side note, I’m going to be featured in the WSS’s monthly magazine for submitting “Tiger Bullet Kick” in their June edition. I consider that to be an early birthday present!

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

It took me three attempts to get Christopher Brown right, so now I can set my sights on Andrew Bradley, the English mercenary from “Ninja”. For a reference picture, I think I’m going to use Freddie from the second Final Fight game. He’s got the size, the hairy body, and the military getup, so he’ll be perfect for drawing Andrew. Hopefully, it’ll only take one attempt this time. Hehe!

***BUMPER STICKER OF THE DAY***

We have a daughter in public school who hasn’t been knocked up yet. We have a son in public school who hasn’t shot any of his classmates, but he does sell drugs to your honor student. Plus, he knocked up your daughter.

WWE Wrestlemania 31: Sting vs. Triple H

MATCH: Sting vs. Triple H in a No Disqualification match
PROMOTION: World Wrestling Entertainment
EVENT: Wrestlemania 31
YEAR: 2015
RATING: TV-PG for violence
GRADE: Pass


In the 1990’s, the ratings war between WWE and WCW was one that would determine which company would remain in business. Both companies had high-rising superstars. Both companies had millions of dollars. Both companies pushed the envelope with their edgy television shows. In the beginning of this competitive war, WCW introduced the world to The New World Order, a faction of rebels consisting of mega-stars like Scott Hall (formerly Razor Ramon), Kevin Nash (formerly Diesel), Hulk Hogan, and many other wrestlers with a legendary legacy.

But in the end, it was the youth and freshness of Mick Foley, Stone Cold Steve Austin, The Rock, and Degeneration X that slew the beast known as WCW. The star power-fueled company known as WCW closed its doors permanently in 2001 with many of their wrestlers serving as jobbers for the WWE during the “invasion” storyline.

Fast forward to Survivor Series in 2014, which was 13 years after the WCW legacy was buried forever. The Authority (Triple H and Stephanie McMahon) were throwing their weight around and making life for young up-and-comers miserable. Daniel Bryan had been put on the injured reserve list, Dolph Ziggler had many handicapped matches to deal with, John Cena was losing his opportunities at star power, and oh yeah, the Big Show cried like a baby.

Who decides to show up at Survivor Series of that year? Sting, the face-painted, trench coat-wearing, baseball bat-wielding vigilante who said more with just one stare than most wrestlers could in a ten minute interview. He continued to cost The Authority matches and play mind games with Triple H. Sting was at one point WCW’s lone soldier against the powers of the New World Order. Over a decade later, he wants revenge against Triple H for putting that company out of business and leaving Sting in an indefinite stasis (actually, he wrestled for TNA, which is basically WCW for the 2000’s, but who’s keeping track?).

Several months after Sting’s WWE debut, a match between him and Triple H is made for 2015’s biggest pay-per-view event, Wrestlemania 31. It was billed as a clash between icons of their respective companies, Sting representing WCW and Triple H representing WWE. These two wrestlers were past the prime of their careers, yet they were determined to wrestle with the spirit of youth. For Sting, this wasn’t just about WCW closing its doors in 2001; this was about knocking a tyrant like Triple H off of his throne.

Fast forward to the actual match between these two. Wrestlemania events are known for super-creative entrances to the ring. This match was no different when Sting came to the ring with face-painted Japanese warriors were playing Taiko drums to introduce him. Triple H chose something slightly more epic for his entrance. He dressed like The Terminator and carried metal skulls to the ring with him. Sting promised the samurai warrior spirit and Triple H promised futuristic destruction that spared nobody. Which one would prevail?

Sting and Triple H had a lot of miles on their bodies, but with those miles comes wisdom and experience. The opening parts of the match were wrestled with basic maneuvers such as clotheslines, hip tosses, knee drops, back body drops, suplexes, and the occasional corner splash. Yes, these are old school moves, but Triple H and Sting did them with such perfection that they were actually entertaining to watch. Even more entertaining was when Sting had Triple H dead to rights in the Scorpion Death Lock.

And then we hear the Chris Warren band screaming, “Break it down!”, which could mean only one thing: the arrival of Degeneration X members Road Dog, Billy Gunn, and X-Pac, all three of which were instrumental in bringing WCW to its knees. If they wanted to get involved in the match, they could since it was announced as No Disqualification. The numbers game was sure to catch Sting off guard.

And then we hear Frank Shelley’s guitar twanging and twisting, which meant the arrival of New World Order members Hulk Hogan, Scott Hall, and Kevin Nash, all three of which had achieved WWE Hall of Fame inductions. Outside of the ring, the New World Order and Degeneration X members beat the hell out of each other. They threw each other against barricades, ring posts, the punched and kicked like there was no tomorrow, and there was even a time when Road Dog back body dropped Scott Hall on the concrete floor…and Scott Hall, as elderly as he was, got back up!

And then the hardware started to come out, Sting with his baseball bat and Triple H with his sledgehammer. While the NWO and DX were fighting outside the ring, the two actual match competitors fought like medieval warriors with their hardcore weapons. Triple H was determined to be the badass barbarian he always was with his hammer, but with one strike from Sting’s bat, the hammer broke in two and Triple H was cornered.

And then, the final member of DX, Shawn Michaels, another Hall of Famer, came out of nowhere and super-kicked Sting into unconsciousness. It was another blow from Triple H’s now broken hammer that finally did in the vigilante known as Sting. A count to three later and Triple H was declared the winner of this war between WWE and WCW. After all was said and done, the members of the New World Order, Degeneration X, Triple H, and Sting all got together and showed each other respect with hand shakes and hugs.

Normally when old wrestlers get in the ring, they’re huffing and puffing as they struggle with their equilibrium, which is why a lot of WCW were boring to watch. But when the remnants of DX and the NWO got in their time machines and threw themselves into the Wrestlemania 31 vortex, it had the crowd chanting, “This is awesome!” over and over again. I would have chanted the same thing if I was in San Francisco that day. Hell, that whole audience was having nerd-gasms all night long after this match. There wasn’t one bad match on that whole pay-per-view. In fact, Wrestlemania 31 might get the nod for Best Major Show of 2015 from the Wrestling Observer Newsletter and it would be a well deserved honor.

Nerd-gasms and childhood memories aside, the conclusion of this match does beg the question of what Sting’s role within WWE will be now that he failed to dethrone Triple H. Is his momentum completely destroyed? Will he strictly have a backstage role? Will he show up at another major show and shift the balance of power again? I wouldn’t mind seeing Sting again someday. He has many decades of wear and tear on his body, yet he wrestles like a 21-year-old. In other words, the man forgot to age. Give him another chance, damn it!

Darthania Gaveston

NAME: Darthania Gaveston

AGE: 20

OCCUPATION: Wizard

CANONS: Dungeons & Dragons: The Middlesex Campaign and Fireball Nightmare

Technically, this character doesn’t belong to me. She belongs to my good friend Heather, who I used to play a lot of Dungeons & Dragons with back in 2010. She was the wife of my human barbarian Brutus Warcry, who I’ve talked about in previous character profiles. This couple did everything together. They chased bounty heads, they competed in mixed-martial arts, they went on missions to kick some villainous ass, and they even protected the mayor of Middlesex Shawn Simms on more than one occasion. Darthania and Brutus’ romance and adventures were the ultimate rags to riches tale. They started off begging for handouts and became eighth level millionaires.

Darthania comes from a similar romantic background to her husband Brutus in the sense that he was not her first choice. Before Brutus came into her life, Darthania was studying wizardry at the Middlesex Academy of the Arts. She was a damn good student as well as the man she fell in love with at the time, Randy Farrell. They’d do experiments together whether they were wizardry assignments or otherwise…and my definition of otherwise is very loose if you know what I mean. Hehe!

They started off as lab partners and became lovers destined for marriage. And then one day, an accident during class caused a chemical explosion that poisoned Randy and killed him slowly while he rested in a hospital bed. Darthania never got to say goodbye to Randy and still missed him even after marrying Brutus. Brutus never got over Kai Nightwolf and Darthania never got over Randy Farrell. The relatives of the dead lovers entered Brutus and Darthania’s lives as government-paid bodyguards, those guys being Electra Nightwolf, Sandra Nightwolf, and Windham Farrell. It’s not the same, though. It’ll never be the same again.

Darthania had a huge impact not just on Brutus’ life, but on the lives of everybody who participated in that game from Heather to TJ to Sid to Amber. She was so much of an icon that I asked Heather for permission to use her in Fireball Nightmare. Not only did she say it was okay, but she said she was honored since she admires my writing skills (not to brag about it or anything. Hehe!).

In Fireball Nightmare, Darthania Gaveston’s new role was the ex-lover of Brutus in a love polygon that involved anywhere up to seven people. That’s a lot of emotional turmoil to go through. And a lot of condoms. But if she could put those dark feelings aside, then she would have been responsible for Deus, Brutus, and company finding the Lunar Crystal, which when dropped down Vahd’s volcanic opening would cool the earth off from the hellfire it was subjected to. In other words, Darthania would have been responsible for earth’s freedom. But because of confusing plot holes, perfect characters, and all around shabby writing, Fireball Nightmare has been deleted from my archives and is yet another failed project. I had a chance to make Heather’s character famous and I blew it. That’s worth a deep sigh.

Since I already asked once if it was okay to use Darthania in a novel of mine, I’m sure Heather will say yes every time after that as well. It all depends on how many times until I find the perfect fit for the lovely elf wizard. Like every other unemployed character I plan on using, Darthania’s chances of being chosen for a story are random. But if she’s going to stay in my archives indefinitely, the right thing to do would be to let Heather have a crack at writing a story for her. Granted, I’ve never read any of Heather’s writing before, but judging from how well she played Darthania in the D&D sessions, I know she can hack it as a writer.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“You could say I’ve lost my faith in politicians. They all seem like game show hosts to me. But if I ever lose my faith in you, there would be nothing left for me to do. I could be lost inside their locks without a trace. But every time I close my eyes, I see your face.”

-Sting singing “If I Ever Lose My Faith In You”-

"Every Breath You Take" by The Police

Whenever the song “Every Breath You Take” comes on the radio, I always make it a point to say I can relate to it because, like Sting, I’m willing to go that extra mile just to see how my honeys are doing. And yes, I can see the irony of a band called The Police performing a song about stalking, which is against the law. I like to kid and joke, but in all reality, I don’t have the means to be a stalker. I’ve had lots of crushes throughout my life, but no means to track them. My very first crush was a girl in high school named Shona. I had another one in my advanced computer applications class named Autumn. Two crushes in the days where Face Book and My Space weren’t even big deals yet. So how exactly would I have access to them? Oh sure, I could do the “manly” thing and actually ask them on dates. Not only was I too shy in those old days, but there was a reason for it. I somehow had it in me that if I get slapped in the face or laughed at as a result of asking a girl out, I deserved it. There was a separate girl I wanted absolutely no attention from, but got it anyways, named Julia. I felt like I had the right to turn her down the hard way if she tried to make advances on me (because let’s face it, when you’ve had PTSD before, anything can seem traumatic). This “human right” of being allowed to use rough means to turn down a date was one of the most harmful beliefs I could have had (even more harmful than the ones brought on by schizophrenia). From that point on, I kept my distance from the girls I liked because I didn’t want to offend them with traumatizing behavior. There were small moments in which I did flirt with girls, but the flirting was somehow interpreted as inappropriate and then I sank further into my shell. Now that I actually do have a girlfriend (her name is Brianna), I can’t come out of my passive shell long enough to make any major moves. There were even times when she was puzzled as to why I didn’t kiss her back when she kissed me first. Now that I’m this far in my life and haven’t participated in most of it, I feel like I can relate to “Every Breath You Take” even more. No, I don’t think of it as a stalking anthem, so don’t get any ideas of me being creepy. Notice how Sting says, “I’ll be watching you.” There’s a huge difference between watching and participating. In all of my relationships with girls, I’ve been a part of the audience instead of the main attraction. Whenever I tried to climb the audience barrier, security came and threw me out of the arena. What does any of this have to do with writing? It’s simple. If I can’t be the main attraction, I might as well start my own show with the romantic short stories and novels I write. There’s no point in denying my characters the love they deserve. Then again, as Stephen Chbosky once said, we get the love we think we deserve.

　

***HIGH SCHOOL DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

STUDENT: I think that girl likes you.

ME: I don’t blame her.

　

***TELEVISION QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“You need to stop acting like Larry Flynt.”

-Todd Chrisley from “Chrisley Knows Best”-