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Darkly Dreaming Demographic.

Where weird shit hits bizarre fans.

Cur Chapter 10 ‘Spirit is willing’

Bonjourno, did things a little differently today, did my proofreading and spamming in the morning and I’m doing this now, hence it’s later than usual.
No reason, I just like doing stuff like that haha.
So yeah been proofreading, I did this bad boy right here, and I’m working my way back through Diana After Dark and it’s going pretty well. I feel like I’m being really objective like I can step back and look at it as a whole, because I know how it played out so I can see holes and I smooth out rough areas. I think it’s really helping the flow. And I’m looking forward to fixing a few plot holes I may have left open later in the book, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I think after this segment of 3 ring is done I’ll focus on proofreading it full time until it’s done and then start spamming it to agents when I’m near enough done.
Been an ordinary week, writing stupid clown shit and battling depression and possible retardation, nothing new there haha. Just been feeling shit, like I’m enjoying writing 3 ring but it’s also fucking depressing knowing it’s really a waste of time because no one’s gonna read it haha. I know I’m just writing it to stay sharp but I know my time could be spent better and I really think I need a new job so I can turn some of this excess time into money I can use to hire more editors and see the people that mean the most to me, the few of those I have.
Not been reading as much either which is lame, the latest Parker book just hasn’t hooked me, its kinda just a bunch of stuff happening. This is sorta continuation of that lame themepark book and I thought it would redeem that but so far its a little flat but I really haven’t read that much of it. But there aren’t any characters or plot points that jump out at me. It’s kinda just treading water, which sucks because it’s referencing one of the strongest books in the series at the start. Where to get back at this Mafia organisation he gives the green light on a bunch of the people he’s connected to to do a series of coordinated hits on them, punching them straight in the wallet. Basically trying to show the outfit that he has as much power as they do in regards to control of their money. But that was a great book which set up quite a few characters who appeared later in the series and all the little robberies were great but in this it’s just Parker and Grofield doing some really boring robberies for pennies to piss off this guy who they think stole the take from a botched job but he actually has no idea where it is.
So it just feels like it’s running up a hill, spitting in the wind, pick a saying haha.
I’m just not desperate to rip into it like I usually am, I really need a new book series to read haha. Another Dexter would be great, maybe I could just read Dexter again haha.
Anyway about Cur, going over it still, cleaning up a lot of it, it’s rough but it has potential, I think I was a little overconfident with it, maybe overextended but it has something, I just need to keep chipping away at it. There’s something good there, I just need to clear away the shit and pull it together. Because in some respects it feels a little small because it’s really just a piece of an epic story. There’s no way I could do the whole tale justice in one book without doing just a big birds eye view without getting down to the nitty gritty. It would end up just being the mythology not a story. So I needed to get down in the mud a little bit and get creative to craft an origin to this war. And I think I did an ok job. I really only have one person’s opinion on it but he thinks it’s alright haha.
Anyway, gotta go do something else now, eat maybe? I dunno, what do I even do except write and talk shit?
See you…
“Why have we stopped?” Bres called out to the stone coloured sky as he tilted the visor on his helmet back. His armour was gaudy and extravagant, hints of white gold and gold leaf burdened a chestnut mare.
Ogma rode silently at his side aloft his dappled grey, his visor down.
“Sire, a swineherder blocks our path and wishes to speak to our captain.” A young knights errant said, hiking his hauberk up as it seemed a little too big for him.
Bres sighed and made his way to the front of the convoy with Ogmar trailing behind him in a terse canter.
The path they were on was a narrow dipping one lined on both sides with stones separating an embankment of rocky crags. The stones demarked a break in the fields used for grazing from the sacred groves of Newgrange. The village folk liked to have their livestock feast on the grass on those groves. They thought the grasses there imbued with some mystical properties. Producing milk and meat sweeter and heartier and wool hewn softer and stronger.
To turn back they would have to climb the embanked and loop around by crossing open farm land. Adding annoyance and further time to their journey.
Bres beheld the man with raised eyebrow and a sneering condescension as if expecting to witness a pig rolling around in the mud at his feet.
The swindeherder was deshevelled and appeared hobbled with a large white branch cane. Despite his deformities he had the broadback of a farmhand. His dark cloak covering most of his face and body, with one sleeve hanging loose at his side. A placid shaggy dog panting at his feet.
“What is it you want swineherd?” Bres said with the listlessness of a court maid.
The man rolled one stoney eye towards Bres and Bres was taken with a queer feeling as if someone were scything grass to make a grave. He swallowed it down and scoffed as the swineherder took some time to answer.
“Well out with it, I haven’t got all day, you stand before the king of Inish Veil” He said softly, as a light spattering of rain began to fall.
“Is that so?” The swineherder said in an almost mocking colloquial tone, his posture not changing at all.
“What is it you want peasant, speak now or be run down!” Bres said idly, trying not to look at the vagabond.
“I wish to issue a challenge” the old swineherd said his voice low gritted.
Bres sighed “We don’t have time for games or riddles old man and we wouldn’t waste the coin now out of our way!”
“I wish to challenge the strongest amongst ye to single combat” The old man said as if he was asking for a sip of water.
The men all laughed after a moment and Bres too could help but chuckle.
All but Ogma laughed, he instead bristled with a cool anticipation. There was something not quite right. Some drive or pull, some whispering in the back of his head that told him something was padding the earth downwind. Something waiting to see the soft side of a belly to slash. Some great battle lay over the horizon just waiting to cast his legend in bronze, his death in history.
“Do you hear this Ogma?” Bres said still chuckling “This swineherd challenges you to duel, do you accept?” Bres grinned.
Ogma said nothing and dismounted his horse.
He approached the stranger slowly tracing a wide semi-circle. Drawing the steel club from his belt.
“Draw your weapon stranger.” Ogma said cautiously.
“I have no weapon” The old swineheard said.
“A weapon!” Ogma called.
Another steel club was thrown at the swineherd’s feet but he seemed not to notice. Only after a moment stoopping slowly to drag it off the ground leaning over his cane awkwardly to do so. It was revealed he was a cripple. He only had one arm.
“Tis a brave cripple” Bres jested “P’haps he seeks an honourable felling?” Bres laughed, tugging at the reigns of his horse trying to keep her straight.
Ogma gritted his teeth as he felt a low ebb of malice coming from the stranger. An aura of hate kept at bay by a slow flowing of misery and disgrace at his pitiable appearance. His chest nevertheless swelling as he could hear trumpets of battle ringing in his ears but couldn’t explain why. The hair on his arms bristling. He could almost see the blood stained grass swaying as he looked upon the stranger, hear the thunder. He could feel the static air but he dare not make his feelings known.
“Come on Ogma take pity on the poor wretch, his swines have turned fowl!” Bres joked “He wants you to put him out of his misery, but it hardly does your honor any good to thwought such a wretch”. Bres laughed and rested his chin on his gauntlet as if to pounder.
“The knight could tie his good hand” The stranger said at once in a low drawling tone from unseen lips.
“What a good idea!” Bres said, his armor jangling as he slapped his thigh. “Tie your good arm and then fight the swine herd on fair terms and keep your honor, there we’ve settled it.” Bres smiled, pleased with his idea.
Ogma breathed through his teeth as he gripped the haft of his club tightly. Feeling the sweat on his palm then releasing it again, then tightening it again.
One of Ogma’s men tied his arm behind his back and then stood back as Ogma stretched his now only arm with the club extended. He walked slowly crossing one leg over the other circling the swineherd as his men cleared an uneven circle with their bodies and erect pikes.
The stranger did not move or adjust his footing. Only seeming to exhale and rise slightly allowing the bleached branch he was using as a cane to fall on the ground.
Then suddenly a flash and the swineherd threw the club with a ferocious speed and vitriol. It caught the crowd by such surprise they had no reaction whatsoever but stunned silence. Ogma was a skilled warrior and his senses were keen and swift and with his own great strength he met the blow. Ogma deflected it with some difficulty. The force of it lifting him off one of his feet and making his hand ring with energy, sending sharp pains up his arms and down his back.
But he could not rest. The swineherd was relentless and vicious taken by the spirit of a wild boar himself he threw his cloak soon after not stopping for a beat. Never once thinking one attack would fell the champion of the Tuatha de’. The cloak was heavy and sodden with the beast’s sweat hitting heavily and sticking. Ogma tried to bat it away but the cloak wrapped around his head. Without his other arm for support it drove his club back hitting him awkwardly around his shoulder just nicking the bottom of his helmet.
The swineherd was used to having one arm and all his movements compensated for it, never slowing or struggling.
Bres who had been laughing and smiling and geering jovially up to this point had grown silent and constipated. “That face” He whispered to himself as his own face drained of all colour and he took on the appearance of a ghoul. “Not possible” He laughed it off his mind playing tricks.
The man standing before them was not old nor infirmed but a man at his full height erect towered over them all. His face scarred and horrid, head bald, shaven awkwardly with scraps of hair missed dangling like that of a corpses. His skin pale and drawn and wet looking, clothes of mesh and leather, dark and fitted for speed. A sick sadistic smile on his twisted face. Eyes burning like coals with what seemed like a relentless savage rage, a fire that would consume all that touched it.
In an instant he’d picked his club back up and was on Ogma who was still struggling to remove the sodden heavy cloak from him with only one arm.
The swineherd laughed as he hit him in the stomach. Ogma doubling over, another blow sent Ogma’s helmet flying revealing his bonny face as he sprawled on his back like a wingless fly.
The swineherd pinned his other arm with his foot dropping the club carelessly by his head. Cur withdrew his strange blade from his belt, stooped swiftly and stopped to grin at no one. He sliced Ogma’s ear off as if he was cutting himself a piece of cheese. Ogma’s silver tongue wailed out in pain as he writhed under the heavy heel of the stranger.
Cur held the bloody ear in his hand and closed his fingers around it. he stooped again to put back on his cloak as the men around him said nothing. The sounds of their hauberks and plate mail jangling as they stood frozen said it all. Shaking, petrified from fear and shock and rage as they watched their hero, their champion defiled by one so pathetic.
Cur glanced around at them and laughed softly as they encircled him. Their breathing heavy as they tried to muster the courage to draw a blade, even one.
“Let him pass”
They turned to look at Bres as he sat atop his horse tapping nervously on his thigh.
“I said let him pass, would you besmurge your honor to kill a man for winning a duel mutually agreed?” His voice was strained and irritable as if the words tasted foul and burned his tongue. “An ear can mend, honor cannot, I said let him pass damn you!” He spat swatting at the air with his reigns, his mare swaying beneathe him.
Nothing but the sounds of straining jaws and clacking teeth and shaking mail knees and chausses. Fear and rage and a grotesque swallowing of all of it as they cleared a path for the beast before them.
Cur turned to smile at Bres, it could have been an acknowledgement of his nobility, a grateful smile. But it wasn’t, far from it. It was a wicked arrogant grin and it set Bres’s teeth on edge. He clutched angrily at his horse’s mane causing it to whiney and shake it’s head violently as he watched the familiar stranger walk away.
Checkout the rest of the chapter right here.
Spirit is willing

Smile like a fool

You do make me smile,

Even when I don’t want to

When I feel so gone.

Haven’t seen the sun

You make it shine in the dark

I smile like a fool

Let me fade away

I could only bring you down

Nothing without you.

Diana in the Dark Chapter 4 ‘Heads over heels’ (remurdered edition)

Ok so right off the bat this is just shameful filler, not even hiding it haha.

Not to say I’m not proud of it but it’s padding because I ran out of Green Sunday chapters and I don’t have any 3 ring chapters proof read right now, just pure laziness haha. But I’m having a great time going through the chapters of Diana again (the fourth time now I think) with a fine tooth come just making sure every I is dotted and every T is crossed for when it goes out to agents which should be soon, before the end of the year at least. 
I know there will be people that want the full manuscript because there were people who wanted it for TOTCB and that was a piece of shit I wrote in 30 days haha (not a piece of shit, by comparison haha) so I don’t want to fuck around this time, I want it to be the best it can be. Not perfect because then I’d never get it sent out but damn near as close as I possibly can get it.

So that’s what I’m doing today haha. And despite it being proofread multiple times and edited, still finding minor errors, doing some reading out loud, things like that. I’m getting excited for it but also really impatient.

Personal life as usual in the toilet, might be looking to get a new job maybe cut back on my writing/gaming/jerking off haha. It’s like I’m straddling the fence of destiny and I either fall off or get on that ladder, if Diana gets zero attention I’m pretty much fucked. I mean I invested a lot of hope in Cur for a back up because my ex was telling me that Diana wasn’t me. Something I disagree with, but I get what she was saying, because I was inspired by Dexter but the reason I loved Dexter was because it resonated with me, it was me. So in a lot of ways Diana is me, maybe the best of me, it’s still definitely the best thing I’ve ever written to date. I was so inspired writing it.

Cur went well but I feel like I kinda lost it towards the end, the subsequent chapters fall short of the fire in the first chapter and I think it requires a lot of work to attain the same level of greatness. A lot of time needs to be spent going over it I think. Maybe my expectations of it were a little too high.

Anyway, Parker novel I’m reading right now is kinda ok, I don’t really feel like I’ve got to the meat of it yet, they’re kinda just faffing around and I haven’t had much time to read it lately because my body is still wrecked from doing the exercise thing haha. And every time I get down to read I want to sleep instead haha.

Ok, I gotta finish this otherwise I won’t get any ‘real work’ done today.

See you…

I squeaked my chair back an inch. I felt…numb, like I was vibrating, happy, satisfied, complete.  Like lighting up a cigarette and leaning against the board of a four poster bed.

What was this, what was that?

Could it have been real?

It could’ve been faked, easily. Movie magic and all, clever editing, a fake head. Something in her eyes and something, that thing, deep inside, deep in the dark well told me it was all too real. Its tinny little laugh rang like a hunchback swinging on a church bell screaming ‘sanctuary’.

My skin was damp, a refreshing tingling sensation going up and down. Working up my spine and down my legs. My heartbeat slowing, breathing going back to normal.

I’ll have what she’s having, or what he’s having.

Dazed, tension working loose on my muscles, making them slack, weak, shaking as I logged off and stumbled goggled-eyed out of the library.

My arms were like limp noodles, useless pieces of string pulled along by a runaway kite.

It was…good.

I almost ran through the halls, tripping over my own feet; hearing only my shoes screeching against the cool silence in the empty school.

I meant to get printouts of the newspapers, and some of the juvie records but I forgot and it was already nearing closing time. So I decided to drop off the rest of my stuff in my locker and walk home.

Tomorrow is another day, Diana.

The lock on my locker came off easy, like I hadn’t locked it. I must’ve forgotten, in my daze. Not like I kept anything valuable in there, unless futures in deflated volleyballs had sky rocketed in the last couple of hours.

I unloaded my satchel into it. Put the notepad and pens back in their rightful place.

Casting a wanton glance at the volleyball, almost like a mascot, I might as well paint a face on it and start talking to it. Something caught the corner of my eye.

There was already a face on it.

Someone had drawn a big smiley face on the deflated ball, complete with eyelashes in black marker.

Funny.

Then there was a strange noise, the creak of a pirate skull’s lower jaw opening, then the feeling like a giant boulder was going to roll down the hall. As if I’d stepped right on an X someone had carefully placed just for me.

The noise was coming from Wendy’s locker, to the left of mine.

I closed my locker and locked it this time.

Wendy’s locker was ajar. The lock was sheared off, as if it’d been cut with a set of bolt cutters.

Bolt cutters?

Why use those on her locker and not mine? Maybe I really had left it open, or he knew the combination.

This was getting to be too much, I was getting carried away. This was silly, all in my head.

Not everything is about me. I’m not the center of the universe.

I was going to open this locker and there was going to be absolutely nothing inside it because this had been a simple robbery.

Maybe someone saw Wendy leave a MacBook in it and just had to have it.

A simple explanation for a simple buttoned down world.

Was I going to open it?

That was what he wanted me to do.

Does that mean I should?

Should I play his game. That was what he wanted, he wanted to play.

I want to play, too. I really do.

A shiver danced up my spine, as my true intentions became known to me. The darkness inside stretched like a cat, clawing the inside of my head playfully pricking my brain.

I put one finger inside the tiny dark opening and nudged it open, then let gravity do the rest.

The door swung open slow, creaking all the way, giving me that long lost pirate ghost laugh. Behold ye, not-so buried treasure.

I wanted to gasp but all my breath was stolen.

There it was.

There he was.

“Hello, Benjamin,” I said. My voice had an echoing that vibrated through me.

Both voices coming together and smirking as a puzzle piece fell into place.

A man’s head, bisected at the neck sat atop the top shelf of Wendy’s locker.

There was no blood, the head was clean and perfect, it looked like a mannequin head.

A ghost remained of the color it once had.

The cut was clean and even, one fast perfect kiss, and it was free. It looked like it could be reconnected, or it might start reciting Shakespeare.

I wanted to touch it, wanted to keep it.  The head was for me, wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

I knew what I had to do.

I called 9-1-1.

The cops were there within the hour. The Orange county sheriffs department were notoriously laid back. Unless it was an active shooter or a terrorist bombing, a dead body—not even a full one didn’t get their juices going.

How terribly anticlimactic.

But what else could I have done?

They wouldn’t all fit in my locker.

 All four of them to be exact.

It took a step back to really see the full glory of it, what was it called?

A Tableau?

Four lockers, four heads.

The four lockers in a row, on either side of mine. It was on odd scene, all four open, with mine closed in the middle.

Evidence techs in full body suits went over it like they were searching for Barb from stranger things. Looking for trace evidence and dusting for prints, spraying for blood and shaking their heads.

Needless to say, I took the time to remove the deflated volleyball with the face on it; that was mine after all. Of course they’d search my locker eventually, so anything that could link me to this had to be disposed of.

What good would it do me to call this in and put a big red X over my name?

That was assuming there wasn’t already a big red X over my name just for finding them.

Four heads.

One was missing, the woman’s head; the German barmaid without a name.

Why?

Well I’m sure it’ll turn up.

“What’s this girl doing here?”

I heard a nasal voice say off to my right.

“She’s the one that called it in,” One of the techs in the mask said without looking up.

“And why is she still in an active crime scene?” He didn’t wait for an answer. His eyes landed on mine. “Come with me, Miss, you shouldn’t have to see this at your age.” The man stepped to my right. He was a tall slim black man with a shaved head and a light complexion. A sort of dull friendly expression on his face, like he’d forgotten how to frown. “Would you mind coming with me and answering a few questions? Has anyone called your parents?” He made one of those fake-concern faces news anchors made when they were pretending to care about tragedies. But the dim smile was still there, as he made deep lines appear on his brow.

“Err,” I said, eloquent and erudite as ever. “I live with my aunt.”

He led me outside like I just came off the short bus, with a light but firm grip on my upper arm. Told me his name was Detective Cantwell, and repeated he was going to ask me some questions.

“What were you doing when you found the…umm?”

“Heads?”

“Diana! Are you all right?”

I heard my aunt’s voice.

She rushed to my side, her legs looking like they were chaffing against her little bike shorts. Dharma grabbed me in a really uncomfortable hug, like she’d just seen my face on a milk carton. She looked up at the cop, then back at me. “I heard your name over the radio, and I came as fast as I could.”

I believed her, because she was still wearing her pointy cop bike helmet and shades.

She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder to look at Cantwell. “Is she all right, can I take her home?”

The detective made a noise in his throat, like a punctured bicycle tire and sucked his bottom lip. Then he looked at me again. “Yeah, she can go.” His tensed jaw betrayed his reluctance, and he exhaled loudly again.

I’d already left my name and address with the arriving officers, so I was only a hop skip and a jump away. Slipped the net once but the pool was small enough, and they could trust my true blue aunt to wrangle me in if need be.

Before I could make any sense of the day’s activity, I was back in the front seat of my aunt’s car, like I was coming home from an especially stimulating field trip. For some reason, she wasn’t saying anything.

Dharma held the nervousness of a getaway driver as she hunkered over the wheel. She backed out of her crude parking spot, and back onto Campus Drive.

The rest of the drive wasn’t much different. I watched her keep her eyes locked straight forward; only glancing up to check the rear-view mirror once in a while. Her muscles only relaxed as we pulled out of sight of the school.

I was still feeling sort of buzzed and happy so I didn’t feel like popping that bubble, silence it was for all of the two-minute drive home.

It was darker now, the sky bleeding red and orange, one way to waste a day.

It seemed like a jump cut in a movie and I was standing in the entryway of our house, bouncing on my heels as my aunt dithered locking and dead bolting the door, top and bottom.

I wanted to collapse on a chaise lounge.

Dharma disappeared into the kitchen without a word, and I heard frantic dialing of the kitchen phone.

The receiver was missing, and she was behind the locked door of the bathroom in the laundry room.

My mental capacity was in tatters at this point and for all intents and purposes, used up.

Kicking off my shoes I stumbled into my room ready to crawl under a pile of dirty clothes like some sort of happy insect who’d been rolling dung uphill all day.

A glance at my phone, revealed lots of missed calls from Paul and Wendy. I had it on silent for the library. After narrowly missing two awkward conversations in a row, I decided to quit while I was ahead and turn my phone off. Not like I was going anywhere. I didn’t really want to know how they’d found out so fast, but word gets around easy enough here.

Body parts start turning up around someone, and people find things to talk about, and have to tell all their friends.

I went to the door of my bedroom and there was an odd jolt of electricity from the door handle, not just static.

A warning, from the deep depths. The dark sea from my dream bubbling.

I opened the door cautiously.

My hovel of a room materialized one piece of trash at a time. It looked the same, but it had a different aura, like I was playing a game with the Mad Hatter. As if everything had been picked up and swapped around and put back exactly in their places again. Only to give the illusion of things staying the same but keeping that static energy of a wicked prank.

The room hummed with potential. A cloistered violence clinging to the sheets. I could almost smell it. The pheromones of another monster stalking through, poking into the dark crevices and laughing.

It wasn’t a dream; it was real.

I’d seen the heads, almost took one home. Where would I have even put it? The pictures would have to do. My only souvenir. To come that close without even a picture would’ve been a crime.

Someone had been here.

No, I was paranoid, tumbling down the rabbit hole of my own narcissistic personality disorder.

Did that mean the heads were a fluke? A cruel coincidence?

Someone just happened to pick the day I went to the library and specifically chose to skip my locker when they were giving out heads?

Maybe.

I grabbed my laptop from my bed and smirked. All those articles from all those ‘real journalists’. They couldn’t dream of pictures this good, this rife with meaning.

Clean and crisp, without their tacky headlines and small minded narratives or nicknames. Out done by some amateur hack, some nobody on the internet, scooping them and mounting them as the tired beasts they were.

I set my laptop on my desk and booted it up. I found my computer chair on its side; just where I’d left it, and wheeled to the desk as the computer took its sweet time to fire up.

Wait.

That feeling came rushing back, long cold and pointy fingertips working their way down my back.

The wheel had rolled—the sock was gone.

I jumped off my seat and let the chair fall. All the wheels spun.

I scanned my room, waiting for some ghost-faced killer to spring up out of the pile of clothes on my bed with a hunting knife gleaming in the wicked dim daylight.

No such thing came, just a cool quiet calm, and the incessant song of crickets outside.

I searched my room for my own peace of mind, turning over wrappers and empty bottles. Nothing was taken, there was nothing to take. My laptop was the only thing of value in the room, and evidently he found value enough in it to take a peek at it. My closet was in the corner. I rarely used it, as my bed and floor seemed to be working just fine.

I opened the door and clicked the light on, the magic clicking of the lamp dispelling all evil spirits and cleansing the dark dingy space.

On the floor was a Malibu Barbie I got when I was eight. It was naked and missing its head, but admittedly, that was probably me.

However, I remembered it being in a box with my other ‘victims’. Old toys in varying stages of dismemberment.

Silliness crept over me again; I was getting caught up in coincidences. My aunt probably moved the sock—or I did and forgot about it.

But who took the doll out, and who put its head on the top shelf to stare at me?

If you want to read the rest the of the chapter you’ll have to buy the book when it comes out sucka haha #trolled. No seriously though you can find the raw unedited copy on my inkitt if you’re that impatient and cheap haha.

3 Ring Samurai Part 2 Chapter 2 ‘Taint no sin’.

Hey there,

Got some more of that wacky clown anime action stuff I guess haha.
I dunno I’m kinda just fucking around right now waiting for inspiration to hit me and jump start my next big project while also thinking seriously about getting Diana off the ground and grinding my teeth waiting, endlessly waiting.

I got older recently haha, I won’t say how old but it started me thinking about some things and also I went to the doctor finally to get a referral to see if I actually do have aspergers. And those two things colliding got me thinking even harder about the paths I chose and whether or not I chose them at all, or maybe I just fell into them and that’s why I’m in the hole I am right now.

I was thinking to myself about the choices I made in the past and my dreams and fantasies I had about myself. Because I always wanted to be a writer, ever since secondary school but I told myself I would be a character from a book before I wrote them. So I tried to go to the root of all awesome characters and join the army and it didn’t go well.

I mean some stupid thing stopped me, just one stupid thing I said completely changed my path and I can’t say for the worse because thinking about it now I don’t see how I could have ever made army life work. I mean I think I could have but knowing what I know or I think I know about myself now I don’t think I have the social skills to really be an effective part of a unit. I’ve always been a loner, I’ve always sort out my own space or felt alone even in a crowd and just wanted to get behind a locked door as soon as I could. And I think the aspergers thing might explain a lot of that.

But I always cherished the people that would force me to go outside and interact with people and hated them too, pushed them away if I could, isolated myself. I just can’t help it, I feel bad about it but it’s just in my nature. I can’t wait to see people I cherish but also in the back of mind I’m relieved when I don’t, I’m at peace when I’m alone. I’m happy when they’re with me but I also can’t wait til I’m alone with my thoughts again.
Loneliness terrifies but I also crave solitude on an instinctual level. 
Even in the job I work now, it was initially customer facing but somehow I managed to transform it into a job where I’m alone most of the time but still making more money. Basically just through an anal level of attention to detail I made my own job and made myself vital in some sense to the organisation at my work. I completely removed myself from customer interaction to essentially focus on the engine of the business itself, like the wizard of oz working the levers behind the curtains, you don’t see me but you feel my presence when things are going right.

I just don’t know how that would translate in any other job because that’s what I’ve been thinking about, facing the reality of this THIS not working out. If Diana flops I can’t see the validity of continuing on really because I completely lack the part of my brain that would give me the social skills to craft my own fanbase and I don’t have the clout or the right hook to find an agent to do it for me.

I could keep lying to myself and just blindly keep carrying on until I’m dead and one day someone unearths my work and so desperate for story uses it to make some shitty movie. But now I don’t know because soon enough the world I came to know, this comfortable bubble I exist in will pop and I’ll be all alone and have to abandon it just to eat and stay warm and moreover there’s someone I NEED to see. Someone I NEED to be known and remembered by.

And sadly I need money to do that, a lot of money.

I don’t know who to trust or who to take advice from, nothing seems to make sense, but I feel a change is coming and everyday it gets harder to see the future and I just feel its crushing weight upon me and all I can do is tell myself everything will be ok, but by what standard?

I know I’m lazy, I know it’s pathetic and I know only I can make a change but I don’t know what path to take and it’s so much easier to sit and wait for an opportunity that might never arise to come.

I want to be with the ones I love but I also crave being left alone in this hole I made myself and I hate myself for feeling that way, I fucking hate feeling like that. It’s like being a vampire who craves the light but loves the dark too much to leave. Terrible analogy, I suck at analogies as always.

I just don’t know what to do and I feel like all I have to do is wait, but for how long?

Who can say?

I mean this whole thing is not so much for you as it is for me, I have no one else to talk to so I’m sort of talking to myself, trying to understand how I feel about it and I can’t tell if it’s helping.

Anyway I can’t keep harping on about this, getting nothing more than this done today will just exacerbate the problem of not feeling like I’m making good use of my time on this earth and then worrying about whether that contribution is really worth anything.

So yeah.

See you…

The night was uncommonly warm and seemed to hum with an unnatural energy, an electricity which vibrated the ground. It was dark as dark could get. Years of pollution had dulled every star and the night sky was a pitch blanket. But still glowed with a vile orange effulgence that made it almost possible to see the outline of every rock and tree. Just barely.

 

There was no doubt someone was watching him, Pookie could feel eyes on him. Efron was following him with the little candle from the shack. “Put out that light” he whispered.

 

“But-“

 

“Just do it.”

 

The little girl blew the candle out and let the darkness take them for a ride. Their eyes adjusting to the radiant glow of the orange night. There was a light, a dim echo of one strangled to a fine point. They passed several dark shacks like the one they awoke in. Pookie was still and quiet and listened for breathing, farting or any movement at all but surmised they were all empty.

 

As they got closer to the light they could see that it was coming from an opening in a small cave. The cave was little more than a hole in the ground that lead down under a large slab of rock.

 

“Are we going in there?” Efron whispered.

 

“It would be a pretty boring plot point if we didn’t” Pookie said.

 

“You could call it ‘subverting expectations’” Someone behind them said.

 

They both turned together to see someone grotesquely lit by the dim torch light of the cave and they froze stifling a shriek.

 

But it was just Canard.

 

“What are you doing here?” Pookie whispered emphatically.

 

“I got bored”

 

“How did you sneak up on me with one leg?”

 

Canard grinned and let his head loll to one side. “Buddy I could sneak up on you with no legs”

 

“That would be pretty easy actually, like squirming on the ground like a worm.” Efron chimed in trying to get between them, standing on her tip toes.

 

Pookie glared at him and Canard glared back.

 

“You can’t hear that, that humming noise?” Canard broke the brittle silence.

 

“I thought that was just my ears ringing” Pookie said wiggling his little finger in his ear trying to get the irritating noise out.

 

“I hear it too” Efron said, her eyes wide and excited by the cool night air.

 

“We going in or not?” Canard said.

 

“After you” Pookie said, his eyes locked on the deadly bird.

 

“Be my guest” Canard retorted returning the icy glare, retreating back into uncomfortable silence.

 

“Weeeee” Efron said as she ran into the cave waving her arms like an airplane.

 

They followed her into the cave shushing her as they went.

 

Inside the cave it was predictably dark but less dark than outside as it was lit by some fire deeper down in the cave.

 

The followed the glow which had started out a white yellowish colour but was getting more green as they made their way deeper into the cave. The heat too was becoming unbearable and the humming sound was all around them.

 

They made their through a small alcove which opened onto an outcropping overlooking the main chamber.

 

The main chamber was a grand irregular dome shaped room lit by a huge bonfire. The bonfire glowed and burned violently with a green flame rising almost to the ceiling. But strangely producing almost no smoke and what smoke it did produce was ventilated through a small hole in the roof of the cave.

 

Hundreds of cloaked figures knelt around the fire. The strange humming noise was now revealed to be coming from them. They droned in a form of odd ritualistic chanting that was completely unintelligible. But sounded something like a girl in a tentacle porn hentai saying ‘no’ over and over again. And then something that sounded like someone trying to say ‘chicken fingers’ while sneezing.

 

Pookie et al ducked behind the outcropping of the irregular stone to watch in bemused astonishment.

 

“What are they doing?” Efron said.

 

“Err” Pookie said as he stared intently at the shifting throng as they gyrated strangely.

 

One figure emerged from the crowd dressed almost exactly the same as the others but with his hood down and walking with a long stick. He walked seemingly with some difficulty as if his legs weren’t fit for walking on just the two anymore. He ascended a raised carved stone podium backed by a makeshift fence of some sort made from scrap metal, consisting of road signs and tar.

 

He turned to his flock, his face seemed to glow green and his grey hair too, what was left of it shone unnaturally in uneven tufts on his head. A big set of moist bug eyes in his head looking everywhere and taking up most of the space on his wet looking face darted around the room.

 

“BROTHERS!”

 

The crowd hummed with excitement and the torches flickered.

 

“THE DAY OF PROPHECY HAS COME!”

 

“That’s what you said last week!” A heckler at the back said.

 

“WHO SAID THAT?!” The man at the podium said narrowing his bulbous eyes. “I thought as much!” He said as no one came forward to claim their remarks.

 

“I KNOW SOME OF YOU ARE TIRED, IRRITABLE. WAITING FOR THE ONE THAT WOULD BRING US UP OUT OF THIS EXISTENCE AND ELEVATE US TO OUR RIGHTFUL PLACE AS GODS OF THIS WORLD!”

 

“TOO LONG WE’VE BEEN DOWN HERE KEPT ALIVE ONLY BY THE GLOWING RIVER OF LIFE THAT RUNS THROUGH OUR VILLAGE. IT’S HEALING POWERS MAKING US STRONG AND EXTENDING OUR LIVES AS THE WATER RUNS THROUGH OUR VEINS.”

 

“FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS WE’VE WAITED AND WATCHED AS THE ONES ABOVE LAYED WASTE TO THIS WORLD.” He paused and scanned the crowd as if it was them that had done it.

 

“THE RAIDERS, THE MONGRELS, THE MARAUDERS AND MADMEN AND OF COURSE- THE CLOWNS”

 

“WHILE THESE GANGS OF WAISTRELS DESTROYED, RAPED AND PILLAGED JOINING FORCES TO TURN THIS WORLD INSIDE OUT. WE WAITED HERE FOR THE ONE WHO WOULD BRING US THE KEY TO OUR SALVATION.”

 

“AND THAT TIME IS UPON US!”

 

The crowd cheered uproariously at this as he swept them into a frenzy.

 

“WITH THIS GIRL, WE WILL MARCH ON THE SURFACE ONCE MORE” The strange man jeered and lifted Efron up as if she was Simba in the lion king.

 

“Wait what?” Pookie said looking over at the space Efron was just in now vacant.

 

“Huh?” Canard said also noting her absence.

If you wanna checkout the rest of the chapter or more weird stuff head on over to my inkitt page. Taint no sin

 

The sun always shines on tv

I just need more light.

The winter sun is so cruel.

Sitting in the dark.

An age is ending,

I can feel myself changing.

Like I’m in a dream.

Like I was sleeping,

Time just passing endlessly

No way of stopping.

GS2 Second Sunday Last Chapter ‘Un chien andelou’

Hello again, back with the exciting, enthralling, exhilarating conclusion to Green Sunday 2 haha.
Yeah right, ok well this is it, I probably won’t be doing another installment any time soon, I’ve sort of been focusing on serious stuff more lately and just sort of pawning off my silliness with 3 ring instead of sinking so much time and energy into nonsense books about zombies. The irony being that there are zombies in 3 ring haha.

Not gonna be too longwinded today because I have way too much to do really. I want to completely go over my Diana pitch stuff ready for agents and gonna get that filler in with some 3 ring proofreads and it struck me that I should probably give TOTCB another looksie actually. I was thinking about how much attention it gets on inkitt and I thought I might give it a once over with new eyes and maybe improve it a little and rehash some of the pitch stuff. Because I actually did get some interest for this when I pitched it but I jumped the gun and the editor I was using at the time wouldn’t let it go and it took too long to actually deliver a full complete manuscript.

Which is why I’m currently pulling my hair out waiting for the edits of Diana to come back and not doing what I want to do which is email every literary agent in new york and london with my pitch right now haha. Because if I did that and they liked the pitch but I didn’t have the manuscript ready I’d have fucked up.

This is why I’m currently losing my shit haha. Spiralling between depression and mania constantly. But there’s really nothing I can do about it just yet. I can’t make my editor edit faster but I can make sure what I have is perfect and ready to go the moment it’s all done. And I do think TOTCB might need another shot, because the story is solid I just fucked it up doing it in 30 days haha. It needed more time and attention and to feel less like a documentary. In a lot of ways I wanted it to be stripped down and real like a pulp noir story but I guess that’s not as appealing to something more grounded.

Anyway fannying about here isn’t helping

See you…

A fat hand grabbed for a seafoam green office phone in the back of the shoe store. TJ took the phone out of the cradle and put it to his ear.

“What?”

“Is that any way to greet me? ‘What’. I’m only looking out for your best interests and that’s the tone you take with me.”

“What do you want?”

“Ok well obviously there’s too much sand in your vagina for us to have a productive discussion. I’ll call back later when there aren’t zombie furfags crawling up your ass.”

“Wwwait, ok ok, cut me some slack here.”

“Ok ok, now that’s better, you know I’m really digging how this turned out. You two put on a great show, fat samurai on ice. That was really surprising. Like some real weeb shit. The drama, I laughed, I cried, some of it I’m not gonna lie, got me a little hard. That heartfelt moment you had a little while ago, truly boner-inspiring.”

“Can we move this along?”

“Sorry what?”

TJ grit his teeth and said “Nothing”.

“Ok because I thought you were being crabby again, I mean I did reunite you with the fap of your life here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, anyway, let’s get back on track here. Final goal or quest or whatever, this one’s an easy one.”

“let’s hear it”

“Cool your heels hotshot, I just need you to get up into the control centre of the mall. There’s a radio up there, just turn it on and I should be able to pick your signal, so it’ll be like you’re calling me for a change.”

“And then?”

“And then we’ll get you out of this mess, no problem.”

“Ok”.

Evergreen made it to the roof through the service elevator. The chopper was already prepped, ready to take off. An aid came to his side with another jacket and he swapped it out for the torn one. The aid then took the old one away and handed him a cellphone. He took in his other hand as he got on the chopper with Rigby bundling in beside him sliding the door of the chopper shut.

“Out” Evergreen said cupping the phone.

“You what?” Rigby said as he just got comfortable.

“Loose ends” Evergreen said.

Rigby unbuckled his seatbelt in an indignant way and slid the door open muttering to himself. “Bloody zombie game show, absolute shite”. He got out and slid it shut behind him.

“Sir?”

“It seems our towel headed friend made a move”

“You got under his skin it seems.”

“Hahaha, that’s what I do, I had no idea how much until now, caught me by surprise, I didn’t think he’d play his hand so soon.” A thoughtful breath. “After this he’ll have no choice but to act, that Lysander pussy included. No more games in the shadows, no more backroom bullshit or spying. They’ll have to face me in the light on my terms.”

“I hope you’re right” Evergreen said.

The call ended and he banged on the window for the pilot to start and the helicopter ascended and Evergreen dipped into the minibar.

It was relatively quiet in the mall now. Only the intermittent sound of it’s super structure crumbling and creaking. A few fires crackling, most of everything was dead or double dead. The mercs had pulled out about the same time as Evergreen had so it was almost as still as when they arrived. But that stillness is what set TJ’s teeth on edge. He tore out of the shoe store to look around.

“Sunday?! Sunday?!” He called.

“Yeah” A little voice said to left.

There she was, just like before. Standing in front of him dressed a little like she was trying to be little red riding hood or going to a toga party commando.

“Oh” He said, sounding a little deflated “What happened to that crazy girl?”

“She had to split- I guess?” She said raising an eyebrow as if she was asking a question to herself. “I guess she split, I can’t really think of anything better than that, it’s not like I get a script, fuck. Can we go now?”

“Er yeah.” TJ stammered.

Wings flapping, the sound of snow and grass crunching under foot, brush separating. An ice cold breeze and a strange a-tonal beeping noise.

A haggard figure looked back over the their shoulder down from their incline on the town slowly burning town. Muted gun shots and explosions, winding down into irrelevance.

He looked down at the strange device in his hand beeping and kept going up the hill following the sound of the beeps.

“What is that?” A little girl’s voice asked.

“Our way out” Carpenter croaked. He stumbled up the hill, holding onto the leaking hole in his shoulder. His back was soaked in blood and getting colder and colder by the minute.

“Is that it? It’s so weird” Laura said running into a clearing on the peak of the hill. “It’s like a pod, or an alien space ship.” She squealed touching the odd egg shaped pod with a windowed front, a parachute drapped behind it.

“Must have come down in this, might be a way to get back up, something coming to pick it up.” His breathing was shallow and laboured and visible in the cold. His limbs getting heavier and heavier. He smirked and said “All this trouble for little old me” He coughed and shook and grimaced at the pain in his shoulder.

Read the rest of the final chapter of GS2 on inkitt Un chien andelou

Cur Chapter 9 ‘Stone letter’

Hello there,
Erm almost didn’t post a poem yesterday and was set to apologise for going out into the real world and interacting with humans sort of. But then I did so…
The poem thing is something I can’t really force, but hopefully it’s something someone might find enlivening, if that’s a word. I know my stuff has dropped off a little because as with the season I’m just being a bit of a miserable cunt haha.
But I got this chapter proofread (but not spellchecked haha) and I’m making strides towards getting the pitch stuff ready for Diana to make her real world debut, fingers crossed. Could be some time yet before it’s all edited but I’m making a concerted effort to make sure it has the strongest foot forward I can give it. Nothing too drastic, I just keep going back with fresh eyes and going over it but I plan on doing an entire new read through just to make sure it flows and just to buff out some of the rough edges. 
Cur certainly needs that, I’m thinking of almost rewriting it entirely before I even hand it over to an editor because I dunno along the way I think I let it wonder off the mark a little bit. And I haven’t too clear headed these last couple of months what with the sleep experiments which are sort of working but also not because I keep fucking them up and on top of that the weighlifting messes with my sleep even more. So a lot of the time it’s like I can’t even think straight or I’m too tired to put it together and make sense of it.

In other news, thinking about the new Diana book has already begun, implying I don’t have a plan/have it half written in my head already. I’ve been thinking about it for awhile waiting for the mood to be right and for lightning to strike.

Gonna have to get back into the Dexter books for inspiration but I’m already deep into the next Parker book which is pretty good so far. It’s sort of trying to redeem the shitty amusement park book and so far it’s delivering quite, it’s definitely better, more open, more mobile, more dynamic with more characters old and new. It’s shaping up to be really good.
Anyway that’s about all I need to go cook for the fam now, making my signature (as of a week ago) spaghetti and meatballs made entirely from scratch. Kind of proud of it because it’s delicious and I do find cooking very fun and relaxing.
See you…
 
Birds in the forest tittered and fluttered through the trees. The sound of which made Tuan’s head feel like an hourglass turned on it’s side.
 
The campfire from the night before was dying. Cur put it out of it’s misery stamping down on it with his heavy boots, the warm embers crashing around it.
 
One of which flew close to Birog’s face as she lay sleeping. She opened her eyes cautiously to look at it as it smouldered on the ground in front of her. She turned her eyes up to look at him. Her expression that of a fawn looking up at a great mountain that might fall on her head at any moment.
 
“We ride out” Cur grunted almost as if he was talking to himself.
 
“We?” The girl said coyly.
 
Cur grimaced slightly, hearing her slight.
 
Tuan groaned and held his head and hissed. “He doesn’t like repeating himself” He paused. “Where are we going again?” The shapeshifter said squinting.
 
They set off to Sí an Bhrú, the druidess on her horse, the shape shifter accompanied her in the form of a bird flying over top surveying the roads and fields. The barbarian preferred to walk than to ride.
 
Within a few hours of travelling they were in eye shot of the temple mound known as Sí an Bhrú. The mound and cairns of inish vale were so old that not even the Firbolg knew their true origin or original purpose.
 
The mound was located on the north side of the river Boyne. It lay in an open field surrounded only by hedgerows and a series of standing stone circles moving out. The mound itself was an enormous structure, round and grassy like a manmade hillock. A retaining wall at the front, made of white quartz cobblestones at its entrance. Forty foot high at its tallest point and two hundred and fifty wide and there was no telling how deep it went into the earth if it stopped at all.
 
The Tuatha de, recognizing it as a holy site of some power made use of it as a temple to Danu. Honoring it by placing the stone of destiny on the nearby hill of Tara where Bres himself was crowned king of Inish veil.
 
They approached the enormous retaining wall and as they got closer they could now see all the engravings in the stone. Deeply set swirls and circular patterns swirling outward around the entrance. The entrance itself was a very small rectangular slot walled in by large megalithic stones with similar carvings. The temple had no door and there was no activity or guards posted anywhere around the outside.
 
Standing at the entrance looking in they could see it was lit. What little sunlight got in from the outside was accompanied by braziers on the ground every ten or twenty feet. as well as hundreds of candles affixed directly to the stone. Years of wax drippings coating them making them slick and appear almost like the inside of a throat. The flames of the candles lapped at the irregular stone that made up the inner construction. It resembled that of a manmade cave formed from rocks no tuatha de could hope to move.
 
The stones inside and the clay roof gave off a strange resonance the druidess could feel in her torque. Cur too could feel it buzzing at his scars like a mosquito.
 
Cur swept past her squeezing into the cramped entrance and listening for footsteps or any sign of occupance. He traversed a very narrow hallway with entrances onto a pair of small altar rooms on each side, little more than caves and holes in the ground. Some of which could have been a very meager sleeping quarters or an anti-room.
 
He heard then the sound of whispering carried on a draft and he followed it to another identical room. The entrance made of two bowing stones making a triangular shape.
 
Inside it seemed much larger with a high ceiling that echoed with his heavy footfalls. The whispering carried by the strange acoustics of the structure. Something about it bothered him, as if every breath gave him away. It felt as if someone at the heart was listening or even watching him indifferently, waiting.
 
The room was a hollow and the floor sloped into the centre where a basin lay. The basin formed of descending slates of stone circling each other making a shallow pit which appeared to have water in it.
 
Kneeling at the pit was a skinny welp wearing a moth eaten grey cloak.
 
Without saying anything Cur crossed the room and picked the old man up by the collar of his cloak and stood him up on his two feet.
 
“Dian Cecht?” He growled low.
 
“Wwwhat?” The man said, his breath stinking of mouldy bread and cheese. His balding head and shining flat face angered Cur with it’s oblivious sincerity. Cur spat on the floor.
 
“Firbolg?” The druidess said behind him “What are you doing?”
 
Read the rest of the chapter on inkitt Stone letter.

Another day

The days are darker,

All that time slipping away,

I need so much.

I want your heart but

I’m too lazy to love you,

Push those feelings down.

Anger and sadness,

Always so much easier,

Then I feel nothing.

GS2 Second Sunday Chapter 25 ‘Marilyn Monroe’

Hey there,

(Shit so I wrote this blog and forgot to post it so haha so like none of this makes sense, I blame too much weight lifting and creatine powder for turning my brain into mush. And I got new pictures of green haired chicks and everything fuck me right hahahahaha)

Been a pretty interesting week, got unbanned and rebanned on facebook in like the space of a day so that’s another 30 days in Zuccerberg’s gulag for me haha. And it was for such a lame reason. It was for a mildly edgy joke, I mean it was obviously a joke comment on a picture of someone I’m friends with. And it was one of a series of memes and jokes, we were all making harmless slightly edgy jokes just trying to make eachother laugh. None of it serious, no hate speech or anything, not targeting anyone or bullying anyone or threatening anyone, all in good fun, bam banned for thirty days for hate speech.

And this was a post on a fairly edgy friend of mine on facebook and I doubt he would be friends with people who would report on people for mildly offensive jokes. So that means either someone on my friends list is stalking me and has a grudge against me and is just flagging anything I say in an attempt to get me banned or it’s someone who actually works for facebook trying to get me expunged from the platform.

And it could even be both because I’m actually ‘friends’ with this really ‘progressive’ douche who actually works as a mod for facebook. This is someone I use as an ideological punching bag regularly haha. He’s a far left guy but not really smart enough to come up with his own ideas. He’s left wing because he likes letting others think for him, he likes having a script whereas I have my own ideas, I’m not just reciting an ideological framework, which is why it’s hard for me to say I’m one ideology or another because my opinions are evolving constantly. I think about all my positions before I engage in debate. So when I argue with someone like this about politics it’s boring because I already know everything they’re going to say. It’s like playing chess when you know every move the other person is going to make and it’s easy to destroy someone working from an established play book. 

So I could see this guy using this tiny modicum of power he has to come at me in this most balless of ways haha. Not being able to best me physically or ideologically/mentally. This guy is soy personified, I saw an unironic post where he was proud of like doing ten pull ups on like a jungle gym, bruh. So needless to say, he has years of stored up beta orbiter rage haha.

But I went and got myself a paid Vpn and I’m using a secure email and a secure browser and I have burner numbers to use for phone verification so I’m trying to russian hack my way back on to the book of faces haha. Because every attempt at making a new sock has been thwarted and I can only assume it’s because they’re tracking my ip. Just gonna try and transition to this new account and if I can’t use my same face and name I’ll just make a sock to manage my like pages when I’m banned, maybe spam new work.

My post schedule was unusual this week because I just had to get out that spiderman review, it was burning me up inside, that game was such trash I actually returned it. Because you pay fifty quid (well I didn’t, my brother bought it, I haven’t bought a game in almost a year due to extreme brokeness, been playing free games like a peasant haha) for a game that’s essentially been gutted and stuffed with cotton wool, then they have the gawl to ask for eighty quid to get the ‘deluxe’ edition which is basically just the full game. It’s just disgusting practices lumped onto an already mediocre experience and it just keeps going on because idiots will pay it.

I finished my latest Parker book and it does not end well. I mean it was good, but damn my boi Parker cannot catch a break haha. I’m getting worried how he can survive. Because in my head he has like a money meter that’s ticking down as time goes by and he has had no winners for a couple of books now, he must be getting desperate and nervous. But that really ratchets up the tension for the next book, this next job has to go right or he’s gonna have to rob a liquor store to eat, he must be broke as all hell by now. This was the third job in the book, all the others botched and abandoned and then this one goes completely tits up in every way imaginable and it was glorious to read haha. Because the actually robbery goes down without a hitch, but the problem was with what they stole, it was paintings and everything basically went wrong when they tried to fence them. So hopefully next time Parker will choose something that’s just straight cash.

I hope the next book is just as strong as this one and he actually makes some money this time. Because these books have a great sense of catharsis, balancing between ‘crime doesn’t pay’ and ‘money money money’ haha. I just love them, I will be heartbroken when I finish them all, thankfully there are a shit ton of them and then spin offs with my favourite side character too. Also I found that collection of graphic novels I have to read. Maybe I can even get my brother into it through the comics because for some reason he refuses to read the books. He just prefers sci-fi.

Ok so that’s most of my day gone, trying to sneak back onto facebook and ranting about it haha. Got a bit of a surprise except not really lined up for tomorrow, some fresh spicey content. Not that my spidey review wasn’t fresh spicey content. So gonna get to work on that make sure it’s ready for tomorrow and bid you far thee well.

See you…

Across town the town the donut shop continued to burn. The giant donut on top creaked and moaned as it strained against it’s metal struts. It groaned and heaved against it’s restrained as the bolts loosened with the heat. The sound like a ship about to burst a bulk head. The bolts flying off with the weight of the giant metal donut bearing down upon them.

The thing lumbered forward and broke loose. Popping off almost like the button on a torn blouse and rolling down the hill.

Smoke rose from the barrel of the oversized anti-aircraft cannon. The sound of sizzling and heavy breathing.

“Who the hell is this now?” Rigby yelled from across the mall.

The panting gave way to a swallowing sound, dry lips clicking and licking as the newcomer tried to speak.

“I’m-“ panting “Juanita” panting “Horker”.

Silence.

“Who?” He called out again from across the hall.

“Juanita Horker!” she spat.

The fat green haired girl looked a mess. She was sweaty. Her makeup had shifted across her face like a landslide. It made it look like she was wearing a weird mask or she was looking in a funhouse mirror.

Her tights were torn and she was bleeding from her head. Dizzy maybe from that but probably more from the fact she walked all the way here.

Her oddly cut green hair was stuck up in places and now looked more like a bad costume shop wig.

“I’m here to chew bubblegum and Kill Sunday Morgan” She paused to catch her breath and continued “And I’m all out of gum.”

Silence.

“No one gets that reference, that movie is like thirty years old” Rigby called out again.

“Fuck you!” She screeched as she lifted the cannon firing vaguely at where she thought the voice was coming from. “FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKFUCKYOUFUCKFUCKFUCKYOU!

The shell hit the balcony a couple of feet away from Rigby and Evergreen. Evergreen unmoved said “Now it’s time to go.”

“Couldn’t agree more” Rigby said.

They started across the walkway to the service elevator when a voice came from behind them.

“Where do you think you’re going?” They turned to see Sunday standing behind them. This one was wearing a long t-shirt that had a picture of a smiling banana split on it. Her bat slung over her shoulder.

“Leaving so soon?” Another one said climbing over the balcony wearing a torn up furry head.

“Oh jesus” Rigby said. “Where are they all coming from?” He said looking over the balcony. He saw a human pyramid of Sundays in various stages of dress climbing up to the balcony. “Shit” He said taking out his pistol and shooting the one that came over the balcony in it’s furry head. It crumpled to the floor only to be climbed over by two more.

“Bet you regret making me a freak now huh?” The one with the bat said. As she sauntered over to Evergreen.

Evergreen smiled baring a sharp canine and started to roll up the sleeve of his right hand and said “Not at all”.

“Fughk you!!!” Juanita screamed as she fired wantonly at everything and nothing. Her heaving bosom and gut lurching up and down as she flailed the huge gun incinerating furries and Sunday clones alike. Cutting huge swaths through the crowds. Holding the gun between her thighs and humping it everytime she fired. Sweat beading on her forehead.

She huffed and puffed and paused for a moment to comment “I’m pretty good at this” Quaking.

“I’m literally shaking.” She took hold of the gun tightly, “All I needed was a big hard, gun” She panted.

The donut was still rolling. It picked up some pace coming down the hill. Parting cars and crushing parking meters as it rolled on it’s path of destruction, down the mountain. People watched through their curtains as it rolled past and made a sound like thunder or someone moving a heavy dumpster down a cobbled street.

Rigby was covered in naked Sundays. One had him in an headlock with her legs wrapped around his waist giving him a noogie. Two more grabbed his legs and were biting him through his pants.

He angled his gun up and shot the one that had him in a headlock in the head and it fell off. He kicked away from the others annoyed. The large man wading through the slight under dressed girls.

“Sir, I think we should start getting on don’t you” He said dryly.

“The chopper will wait”. He said not taking his eyes off the Sunday in front of me. “Come at me Sunday-girl, if that is the real you.”

The Sunday with the bat scoffed “You think I give a shit?” She said as sauntered over to him swaying her hips and letting the bat fall by her side, dragging it along the floor.

“You think you’re the real you?” He said smiling with those dead button like shark eyes in that flat featureless face. “The girl that was Sunday is probably in a vat of semiotic fluid somewhere in our vault. Or chopped up for parts.” He paused and smiled and waited for a reaction. He watched as her brow scrunched up and the bat scraped the parquet floor. “You’re a by product, a mistake, a copy of a copy. The real Sunday probably never existed, your ‘persona’ if you’d like, is a concoction of a marketing team.” Her face got red, he smiled wider. “You’re an amalgamation of keywords and hashtags. #Greenhair #hairypits #feminism #girlpower #strongfemalecharacter #gamergirl #nerdgirl #femaleempowerment. All just designed to get more clicks. To stir up constroversy” Her face was hot now and he knew he was getting to her. “You’re human clickbait.” He said with a gleeful clicking with his tongue.

“Fuck you!” She cried out with a wobble in her voice like she’d been stood up for the prom and brought the bat up fast and down hard with a dull thudding crack noise.

Check out the rest of this chapter and my other stuff on inkitt Marilyn Monroe

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