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TOTCB Chapter 14 ‘The Carnival is Over’

Guten Aben, Just gonna phone this one in, not that many updates exept it’s a go with the new editor and she seems raring to go. I realise I forgot all about the mailing list over the holidays, and I actually still haven’t got the full manuscript for the TOTCB off my old editor who is studying to be a priest or something in israel, or something like that.

Anyway, so I can’t do the mailing list really until I get that back, which sucks. But I’ll still be posting free unedited content and reviews of whatever dumb shit I see. I don’t have a clean copy of the last jedi to rag on yet but I did get the misogynist copy which is like a version with all the women scenes cut out I think haha. But it’s a cam so fuck that, I want high quality theft, only the best quality piracy will do.

Also I remembered why I use inkitt, it’s a good respository for my work I guess, makes it easier to thumb through each chapter on any device so I guess it has it’s uses. I’ll start putting Gage up there when it’s finally done, been dragging my feet recently where that’s concerned. Elite Dangerous addiction really getting out of hand haha.

So I’ll be putting links up like before so people can read the chapters in order. Like right here; The Carnival is Over

See you…

~

Nancy was sitting in her makeshift office in the San Antonio field office. She was on edge already then the phonecall she was waiting for came and time slowed. She picked it up and didn’t say anything.

 

“Hello? Is this Jaeger?” A thick spanish accent said confused by the silence.

 

“Yes, sorry, this is Nancy Jaeger”

 

“I’m Legate Dargento. We have analysed the data you’ve sent to us and forwarded that data to Interpol and they have a match. We’re faxing you the information as we speak. I hope this helps you in your investigation.”

 

“Yes, I’m sure it will” Nancy was elated but felt a hint of sadness creeping in from an unknown place, a cold shiver. “Thank you”.

 

“You’re most welcome”.

 

She hung up the phone and just sat there for a minute with her elbows on the desk.

 

“What is it, did the tests come back, was that Interpol?”

 

“They’re faxing it over now.”

 

 

Porter thought the kid looked hungry and he might loosen up if he put some food in him. So he took him across the street to Raising Cane’s chicken fingers, ordered some texas toast and lemonade.

 

It was a standard diner set up in any roadside chain. Booths running down the windows with blue seat cushions. The walls were all red with pictures of dogs and old movie stars on them. There were square tables running along the centre of the room at right angles to eachother. It was busy enough to cover whatever they had to say to eachother without anyone hearing it. Kids having birthday parties, old people, teens, college kids, the works.

 

He picked it because it was close and on a busy road out in the open. He picked a booth facing out so he could see any cars coming. The kid was facing away with his cap and dark glasses on, plasters on his face. It was awkward the kid didn’t want to talk but by this time Porter knew he remembered him.

 

“Do you remember me?”

 

Johnny nodded.

 

“I heard you scared your mother pretty good, that stunt you pulled”

 

The kid, shrunk back into his seat, the hairs on the back of his neck brushed backwards. His lip quivered, but with what it wasn’t clear. After a moment in a harsh whisper he said “That woman is not my mother”.

 

Porter’s heart gallopped and hurdled his stomach. His blood started rushing in from all over and he could almost hear it. His breath getting hot in his lungs as he tried to calm himself, tried to keep his face poker.

 

The kid looked at him and he was scared, really scared this time. He took the glasses off and threw them across the table and rubbed his eyes. He slumped in his seat and suddenly looked older and he looked Porter in the eyes, with those deep brown eyes.

 

“Who are you?” The words shook in Porter’s throat. They seemed to make the ground shake, like he was talking to devil himself. The angel Gabriel from high revealing himself in human form. His bones quaking at the revelation of truths to come. Come flowing out in a torrent that wouldn’t stop until they washed everything away.

 

The waitress came with their food. They sat across from eachother waiting for her to put it down and go back to the counter. She put it down and Johnny smiled at her and she walked away. His eyes hung down and he turned back to Porter. He breathed in deep his hand on the counter scratching at his thumb with his forefinger.

 

“My name is Cisco Nulidad and I’m wanted by Interpol”.

 

 

Nancy fought the urge to bob on her heels, she speed walked down the hall to the fax machine. She could feel the eyes on her but this was her moment, she couldn’t let the excitement get to her. She could hear the fax machine going as she walked. She sped up, Con was behind her.

 

It spitting out page after page after page, some in English some in Spanish. There was so much of it she could hardly believe it, she felt like a kid on Christmas. She could barely look at the pile afraid one part of it would be revealed too quickly and spoil the whole surprise.

 

When the fax machine stopped she scooped up the hot pieces of paper and bundled them into a folder she had ready. Then speed walked them back to her office pushing past Con, she hardly even noticed him at this point. She needed to get back to her office. There was something about it that told her she needed the privacy of a closed door to see. She didn’t need anyone to share in this moment.

 

She slapped the folder down on the desk and started from the start.

 

Con opened the door, coffee cup in hand. It was hot so his jacket was draped over his chair. He was just wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a tie tossed over his shoulder.

 

“What is it? Who is he?” He asked not stopping for air between questions.

 

She speed read through first page. Her mind reeling to keep up, She passed it to Con and started on the next as he looked at it and tried to process the scope of it.

 

It was a black and white sheet, a fingerprint card with a picture of man with dark hair on it. “Cisco Nulidad, it says he’s French, wanted by Interpol, twenty three years old, Christ!”

 

She burned through the next page and passed it over to him.

 

“Wanted for impersonating minors to gain access to children’s shelters. known Alias; Frederic Beard, Benjamin dianason, Jimmy Peter Manfred, Hurny Wright.” He flipped the page over in disbelief. “The list just goes on and on, these are all missing kids he’s impersonated. This is all over Europe. Luxembourg, spain, france, Germany, Belgium, Milan, Glasgow, Bosnia, paris, bourdeaux, this is crazy”.

 

She finished another page and passed it to him.

 

“Known nationalities, Australian, Uruguayan, Canadian, Mexican. A history of lying about abduction and sexual abuse. Suicidal tendencies, designated an extreme flight risk”. He looked at Nancy and back at the page in sheer disbelief.

 

“He’s a fake”. He said.

 

 

Porter steadied himself, his food growing cold in front of him. “How?”

 

“From the start?” Nulidad said.

 

“From the start”

 

Ciscoe cleared his throat and started to look around. He took his cap off and Porter noticed he had somewhat of a receding hairline and his roots were even darker now.

 

“Well I make a phone call and I pretended to be a couple who found a missing boy. I said he was scared and lost and they picked me up and I pretend to be very scared. I put into their minds they have a child, I don’t even need to tell them I was abused, they say that.”

 

He took a sip of his lemonade and he almost looked pleased with himself. There was something fun about it for him, like a magician revealing his secrets to the world, the world of one.

 

“They take me to the shelter and they tried to find out who I was but they couldn’t. I didn’t let them print me take photos, but they threaten to. I just wanted to stay in the shelter. So I say to them leave me alone in the office at night. Because I tell them I’m an American and because of the time zone difference I need to call at night”.

 

He breathed in. “So I search, I know on the phone in that office, no one can hear me, I can convince anyone on the phone. I called police stations in the U.S. I tell them I am police and we have a missing American child. I try to find a child that matched my description. After a while I found a woman in San Antonio who told me about a missing child, Johnny Bartlett”.

 

He looked around at the children at the birthday party, the cake came out candles and sparklers lit. He swallowed and went on. “She sent me a fax with his picture and I looked at it and I saw the date. Been missing for a few year, it was old picture, I know there would be a change and I tell them they had a match. I call Peggy on the phone pretending to be err police and I tell her we found Johnny. ” He paused and a little something wormed into his smile, regret maybe. “I washed her brain.” He went on fresh. “The next day I proved to the people at the home who I was and they called the embassy and the fbi.”

 

“I didn’t stop because I didn’t know what I was doing, I couldn’t stop”. He started to eat, taking bites of the toast, chewing while he continued speaking. “But fuck, when the embassy they sent colour pictures of Johnny, I see he has blue eyes and blonde hair, fuck me, I burn them. I wish I could burn every word I say up to that point. So I had no choice, I dye my hair, I get the dark glasses and cover my face and I get a girl in the home to do the tattoos. I thought if I could get the hair and tattoos and she couldn’t see my face she wouldn’t know I wasn’t her brother, I’d have a chance.”

 

“I didn’t even know if he was left or right handed. I couldn’t be him because I didn’t know him, I couldn’t think anymore. I just think of what prison will be like when I go.” He said taking a slurp from his lemonade.

 

“I thought about running away, I thought about it but it was too late, Peggy was on a plane and coming to get me, I was trapped. She show up and I hide, I didn’t think she’d accept me. I thought as soon as she see me she say ‘Who the fuck is that? That’s not my brother!’. I knew I was about to lose everything I had no choice, I knew I couldn’t wait no more, it was too late to run, I couldn’t disappear. So I open the door and I went down to meet her and she didn’t wait two seconds. She jump on me. She starts kissing and cuddling me and telling me she recognise me. She accept me right away, to her I was her brother, no question.”

 

“She tell me everything would be fine, only god knows why she would do that. Then she started showing me pictures, dozens of pictures. ‘You remember this is when you were playing with scotty.’ ‘Jason looks older’, just over and over, drilling it into my head.

 

He swallowed “I wasn’t pretending to have another identity, I stole one.” He sighed and went on as if it was a play or a game.

 

Porter stayed still like he was listening to a radio play.

 

“All I had to do was get on a train and go anywhere, but something tell me to stay. I can’t describe, I wanted to feel loved, because I never have that before. My mother have me very young and didn’t want me so I thought I could steal one who did”.

 

He looked off out of the window at the busy intersection and all that nothing. “I think America, I think big city, skyscraper you know? But when I get here it’s all this nothing, all this country, so much space.”

 

He was talking louder and more confident than he had since he got here and he smiled and shook his head. “And then I met you, I already leak to the media about me. Because I thought if the media, the whole world see me and hear my story, it would make Johnny more real, even to me”. He looked down at the table “I wanted people to feel sympathy, to love me”.

 

“How many French adult live the American dream?” He laughed a little as he said it.

 

“How did you get away with it? The embassy doesn’t just throw out U.S passports to anyone.” Porter voice came out of nowhere. He’d just been sitting there listening dumbstruck for what seemed like hours he’d forgotten how to talk.

 

Nullidad didn’t seem to notice and he looked off past him. “I had help.” He clenched his jaw and said. “I thought I’d fooled them but I fool myself, I see now they were the fakes from the start”.

 

“What do you mean? Who?”

 

He looked into Porter’s eyes. “She help me, I see now she coach me. The embassy they give me a test they show me pictures from Johnny family and they test me to see if I remember. ” He licked his lips and leaned forward with his hands on the table. “Peggy she tell them that I haven’t seen them but she’s telling me over and over showing me pictures. ‘Do you remember this, do you remember this person, you remember this, you remember that? That’s your uncle this, your aunt this, your cousin, your mother, your grandmother’. She did it over and over and she make me remember, she coach me and I passed”.

 

“Who your sis- Peggy?”

 

“Yes” He paused. “It was just so much I couldn’t think at the time that she knew they would test me. She helped me to cheat, it was such a normal conversation. I couldn’t see what she was doing, I just thought she really wanted me to be him, she wanted it so bad for me to remember”.

 

Nullidad swallowed and said “I thought she just really wanted me to be her brother. She made me her brother, she didn’t believe it for a second. She knew I wasn’t her brother, she wanted me to be him, nomatter what.” He looked down and breathed in. “I was convince, it was luck, I realise now there was no way they couldn’t see through me, who wouldn’t know there own child? They pretended.”

 

He swallowed and kept rambling. “I thought I was the fake, the imposter. I’m just a stupid person who wanted to be someone else, they were the real fakes. They knew Johnny was never coming back and they used me to hide that. I was the fool all along.”

 

He poked at his food and said “My lie was small, I lied about being someone I was not. Their lie is everywhere, it touches everything, it’s all around, it encircles me and I can’t escape.”

 

Porter banged his fist on the table, a sudden surge of nervous rage shooting through him. “What about Johnny?” Cisco looked up his eyes narrow and frightened. “I’m sick of listening to you feel sorry for yourself, what happened to Johnny?”

 

“They killed him”.

 

Porter shrunk back in his seat, all the hairs on his arms felt electrified, standing on their ends. He got that cold feeling in his stomach like he knew it all along. He knew it.

 

Nullidad looked down at his feet. “Some of them knew about it, some of them kept quiet about it, some of them did it”.

 

Nullidad licked his lips and filled the silence that was growing. “For a long time I worried that the real Johnny would come back. But one night, Angela, she drink, she was drunk and she tell me. I heard her say, Johnny is dead, it was an accident, but Johnny is dead. I knew it was true and I never worry about him coming back after that.”

 

“Why did you do that to your face?”

 

“I knew no one believe me, I could’t be Johnny anymore.”

 

“What about Jack, why did you run?”

 

“I don’t know, I have bad feeling and I wait for him to go pay for the gas and I run”.

 

Porter’s eyes glassed over and his face was flat and expressionless. “Why should I believe any of this? How can I believe you?”

 

Nullidad paused and rolled his head back and forth looking for an answer and when it didn’t come he said “You can’t.”

TOTCB Chapter 4 ‘Brother my Cup is Empty’

Sup people,

Ok so news news news, the cover is almost done as you can see in the last post. Been really busy just spamming the free ebook which is cool, the subs to my mailing list are growing slowly but surely. Got a few podcast appearances lined up so hopefully that’ll help get me more subs/clicks/happythoughts.

I was thinking of giving away some early review copies of Green Sunday so I can have some reviews on release day, not sure how I’ll go about that.

I’m gonna be wrapping up what I was writing recently and I think it’s time to barrel ahead with book two of GS. Seeing some advice online, it seems best to get cracking on the series, strike while the iron is hot and keeping going til I run out of steam and then hopscotch to another series. Which is great news for me, because I kept giving myself excuses why it wasn’t right to start all the while chomping at the bit to do exactly that.

The free ebook is ready and it’ll be virtually shipping at the end of the month, what else?
No I think that’s it, oh no yeah, still going ahead with The one that came back as a standalone. Series’ apparently make more money but I still want to get traditionally published for a standalone title. I’m not ready as of yet to religate myself to permanent indie author status.

In the words of the immutable Kanye West; “You reach for the stars, if you fall you land on a cloud”. Or something like that.

Anyway here’s the next chapter , you can find it on inkitt of course with this link. Probably having this edited soon too before I start pitching it.

Brother my cup is empty

~

It was early, downtown Austin was quiet and heating up slow.

A red dodge pick up pulled up outside an irish pub on 204 east sixth street. The sign on the side was a picture of two merry Irishmen leaning on eachother and it read ‘The Gingerman’.

It was a grand old building. Three stories tall with a couple of red birch trees sticking out of the sidewalk out front. White stone in long columns that looked like it came straight off of mount Olympus. Tall brown doors. The floors above were apartments with tall thin windows that made for high ceilings but not a lot else. It was penned in by an Italian restaurant called ‘Gino’s’ on the right and some kind of science centre for kids on the left. A weird place to put it since almost the entire strip was just littered with dives and billiard halls.

Porter parked deliberately too close to a red striped mini cooper that was parked outside. He got out and went inside.

He passed over the tiled entrance. Passing framed adverts for Paddy’s irish whiskey and Cork Distilleries. Harkening back to some grand irish renaissance in the fifties, or something like that. It was kitch and it made him sick. He stopped to put his keys back in his pocket. He lifted his eyes to the Notre Dame sign with the fighting irish leprechaun. It was facing out hanging from an antique cabinet Patrick had decided to put right in the entrance for some reason. He shook his head and went into the pub proper.

The smell of dried cork and wood soaked in whiskey hit him as soon as he got inside. Real wood, real old wood. It was a classic irish pub with all that comes with that. Small round wooden tables with small round wooden stools that were as uncomfortable as they looked dotted very little floor space.

There were some square tables in the corner which had chairs with backs and cushions for when this place pretended to be a restaurant. Which usually involved Patrick grilling something that was once alive.

The walls were a warm orange and of course were covered with classic Guinness adverts and memorabilia of all sorts. Anything vaguely irish, leprachauns and whiskey were a key theme. There was space for one Texas flag that just had a silhouette of a steers head on it and the word ‘Texas’.

There were old black and white portraits of irish writers and musicians. There were shelves decorated with little kitch porcelain figures and old clocks. Dusty books, violins, ships anchors and mini ship wheels.

The bar was long and mahogany and was so shiney it almost glowed in the texas morning cast off. It curved around and went down almost the entire length of the bar but was sectioned off into little mini bars catering to different drinks. It was all tiled around the first foot out from the bar, the rest of the floor was wood, the same colour as the bar. Porter took a seat on the end at the elbow of the bar and grazed the bar with his eyes. Passing over more Guinness signs. A four leaf clover drawn on a chalk board with their specials until he reached the flat screen tv that hung at a jaunty angle on the corner of the bar.

It was a snooker game.

“Top’o the mornin’ to yah, what can I do’ya fer? A man with strawberry blond hair entered the corner of his eye as he tried to follow the snooker.

“Any calls?”

~

The One Who Came Back – Chapter 3 ‘A Little Trip to Heaven’

Herro der.

Ok so getting off my ass, really making good use of my time recently my personal life falling apart aside.
Keeping pretty tight to my new 2k word goal, spitting reviews out of my ass like confetti and getting lots of proof reading done and I got a few more people on my mailing list by offering them free shit that’s not out yet haha.
It’s coming out soon, calm your tits. Just getting it edited, we’ve already been through the quote and I have the cash. I even have an artist lined up to do the cover, which isn’t cheap considering this is a novella I’m giving away for free. I just want to make sure the product I’m giving out is the best possibly quality, but that takes time.
I will probably be selling it on amazon in hard copy as well just because why not when I’ve put so much time and effort and money into it. So you can pick that up if you feel like it just to support me but you don’t have to do obviously, you’re getting your free digital copy as soon as possible.
Been working on my latest novella just to prepare for when I wade into my next big novel project. It’s just a kind of wet silly horror novela, should be fun. I’ll be posting it on inkitt when I start proofreading it and I’ll probably be giving away ebook copies of that too when it’s edited.
But enough of my rambling updates. I just want to welcome the new people who joined my mailing and following my blog, thanks a lot for the support if you’re reading this, if you’re not I fucked your mother haha.

Ok so here’s the next proofread chapter of my nano novel which I’m really impressed with, I think this is the most professional thing I’ve done.

Here’s an excerpt from chapter 3 ‘A little trip to heaven’

If you want to read the full chapter head on over to inkitt by clicking on the hyperlink so you can get it in a mobile format and all that good stuff.

Anyway thanks again for reading this garbage haha.
Cheers!


“Some more pictures-“The tv was on, a home movie was playing. On the screen was a young girl’s room. White walls covered in pictures and cabinets lined with stuffed animals. “This is Peggy’s room, her bed, she even gots tv in her, aint she lucky?” A little boy’s voice said as the camera panned clumsily around the room.

“What if he doesn’t remember me?” Peggy said as she sat on their maroon couch next to her husband Brandon in their darkened living room.

“Well you’ll never know if you don’t go there and your mother sure as hell can’t make that trip, it has to be you.” He sighed and put his arm around “I wanna go with you but I’ve got work, you know that.”

“The birthday girl.” The boy on the tape said. The camera swayed into a canted angle on a young woman smiling, sitting at a table with her family. “Aint she beautiful?” Sounds of indistinct conversation could be heard as the the camera swept through the room looking around the kitchen and dining room. “And here is her brother, Johnny.” The camera jerked around as the boy aimed the lens at his own face. Giving the camera a semi-toothless grin and a direct view into his nostrils.

Peggy fidgeted in her seat on the plane. Taking long breathes and playing with saint christopher hanging around her neck.

She got the earliest flight she could, terrified but also eager. She’d never left texas before nevermind the country. Her heart raced and as soon as she sat down in her seat she swallowed and seemed to forget. All the hurrying and packing and walking on strained tight calves as she rushed to her flight. The hairs on the back of her neck. She felt like she was carried along by a sense of immediacy she couldn’t explain. She had to see him and touch him and kiss him and know he was ok or…

She couldn’t sleep, not on the flight and not the two days before it. Her heart wouldn’t let her, it beat and beat and it wouldn’t stop until she knew it was real and it wasn’t a dream.

The plane was crowded. She didn’t remember picking her seat, it was an aisle seat in coach. She couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t keep her eyes on one thing or another. No faces were clear, she felt like she was in a doctor’s waiting room. Something about not moving but still moving set her teeth on edge and it made her want to walk the whole way to spain. She took a mirror out of her purse and poked at one of her eyes.

Peggy was a fairly pretty texas flower with shoulder length dirty blonde hair. Maybe just a little too much eye make up to cover up the lack of sleep. Hey eyebrows were so thin they looked drawn on. She had a strong Nordic looking face and jawline she softened with flowing bangs and a dimple in her chin. She looked tired though and she knew it. She was just past thirty and the lack of sleep did nothing for the sagging under her eyes. Her mouth was slightly downturned with a touch of natural lipstick

She couldn’t see out the windows. Everyone around her was either asleep, eating or watching a movie. Three things that didn’t cross her mind. She couldn’t shake the feeling she was in a box. She barely noticed the plane taxiing for take off. Only the tight feeling as her heart sunk into her seat as the plane took off.

It was a night flight so as soon as they got going they turned off most of the lights.

She laid her head back and closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

It didn’t work.

Constantine Season 1 Review

This is sort of a long time coming and probably one of a million reviews of this since it’s been out for maybe more than a year now. I don’t know, but I’m not the kind of person to see some new thing and just band wagon jump. I sort of just watch and wait and stew and then eventually when no one is looking I’ll skulk in and watch it. Surprisingly I actually overall thought this was ok, it was watchable. It wasn’t as terrible as I surmised it to be. I think it had some potential, so it’s sort of a shame it was cancelled but admittedly it deserved it.

The casting was ok for the most part, the guy they got to play Constanstine was ok, he looked the part but his accent was all over the place. I mean what the fuck was that? I think he was sort of a bad actor too, I mean it’s usually good when you can tell an actor is enjoying the role he’s playing. It usually adds something like with the awesome portrayal of Negan by Jeffrey Dean Morgan, adding another layer to an actually pretty bland character in the comic. In the comic, I actually prefer the governor, Negan is a little silly in my opinion. But here the actor playing Constantine seems to have a boner for Constantine and it just comes off as an annoying smugness, he’s enjoying this too much, he’s having more fun than the audience.

The rest of the casting is lame, making Chaz an american was lazy and as usual the female character is only really there to drive the plot for reasons and has no real personality that isn’t just super daddy issues. The guy from lost playing the angel was genric.

Richie was good but considering he’s in like one comic that’s not an amazing addition. There wasn’t much I recognised from the comics except one episode about a hunger demon which was actually ok. But the rest of the plot is just generic Supernatural rip off freak of the week bullshit. Just some intern googling ‘Supernatural shit’ and trying to spin it into an hour long episode by mashing in storyline from murder she wrote. Just lazy writing 101. Something I forgave supernatural for because I liked the characters and there was overarching plot sprinkled in which is not the case for Constantine.

I mean I love Constantine, the one from the comics, which is not this twat. Don’t get me wrong my problem was Constantine in the show is not nearly cunty enough. This Constantine actually looks for cases to solve and stuff to do and help people, the one from the comic just stumbles into shit on happenstance and solves the problems usually out of his own curiosity or to save his own ass. It just feels like they’re trying to square-peg a round hole, turning an anti-hero into a hero because of ‘plot’.

Oh and did I mention over-arching plot, quick tip to the writers of Constantine; mentioning you have an over-arching plot every episode does not mean you have an over-arching plot. In the same way pointing at yourself and screaming you’re a pelican doesn’t make it so.

To have an overarching plot you actually need to have events that link to eachother and become a story, a mystery slowly unravelling, not just a bunch of unconnected shit you artificially connect with the code phrase ‘Coming darkness’ or ‘Rising darkness’ or whatever the fuck it was. It’s lazy and just bad and you should feel bad.

Essentially the problem here might not be the acting or the writing but the structure of the story telling. They’re trying to fit this huge collection of stories into this cookie cutter format that’s been done to death and a lot better. It’s the same thing in my Lucifer review, it uses a cookie cutter ‘Oh look a random event has occured now lets use my gimmick to solve it’ like how the mentalist is a fake psychic or how Monk has asbergers or whatever, the difference is those shows have likeable characters you give a shit about and an over-arching plot that actually exists and is worth munching obvious filler bullshit to see.

So overall, it needed to be cancelled as I think most comic book tv shows do because it’s just hacky pandering crap most of the time with lashings of useless filler. But it’s sad because it wasn’t all that bad, it was watchable and didn’t butcher the source material (unlike Preacher) and maybe it could have done better given another season. But I guess the character and the comic was a bit too niche for modern audiences drunk on walking dead and super hero bullshit who were already tired of ten plus fucking seasons of supernatural to watch another one without Sam and Dean.

I think it had the spark of something but it failed to make it off the ground, stick to writing COD games Goyer.

The One That Came Back Chapter 2 ‘Small Change’.

Well here he is, my first and maybe my only detective character haha. Porter Caraway, I hope you like him, or maybe I don’t, I worked hard on him or maybe I didn’t haha.

What have I been up to besides day job, not much, doing what I hate, waiting and watching. I hate that shit, I’m only happy when I’m moving forward, can’t stand standing still. I’m waiting on my editor to get back to me on editing LCYE so I can give it away for free, waiting on artists to get back to me on covers for LCYE and GS, waiting waiting waiting, driving me crazy. I want to be selling this shit, I want my fame and millions now please haha. Yeah right.

I need to keep moving forward, I said I’d wait til january to write something new and I kept my promise, did I need the rest, probably not. It’s just another novella to keep my mind occupied until I settle on another novel. I’m battling in my minds between doing the fantasy novel or the serial killer dexter fanfic. They’re both fighting for supremacy in my subconscious.

Or I could fall back on a longer comic synopsis, I have some crazy shit stored away but my instincts are telling me if this novel, this one as in ‘The one that came back’ isn’t a mainstream hit, if it doesn’t get me an agent or get above an amazon publish then I need to focus on more mainstream hot spots, so the dexter fanfic and the crazy shit I have in my back catalogue is pushed to the side by the fantasy series I’m not as crazy about. And I know just writing more and more shit won’t help me sell books unless I can market them but I’m not as interested in selling as I am in publishing them for real and not going into this sea of indie nonsense. But I’m trying to stradle both streams, why not?

So right now, just losing my mind, swimming in a sea of unease, unsure what stone to step on next, if I’m even moving forward. I dunno, anyway here’s a segment of it here.

Let me know what you think and as always you can check out the full chapter and the last chapter on inkitt.

Small Change

See you…

~

It was late, a guy in a pair of sweatpants and vest beat on a Blonde in a tan overcoat in the glare of a giant super eight sign.

The parking lot of the super eight was like a cheery holiday graveyard, all lit up and nowhere to go.

“You done?” The blonde spat blood on the floor and looked up at the man in the vest.

“You fucking son-of-!“ The man in the vest sunk a shoeless foot into the blonde’s ribs and he wheezed a sickly a laugh through a bust lip.

“The pictures are in the mail.” The blonde looked up at him, cocking his head, his sunken eyes half open. He licked his lips and propped himself up on his hands as he sat on the parking lot floor to watch the man in the vest go back into his motel room. The room closest the entrance looking out onto the interstate. Guess he thought he could see anyone coming and he did. Not that it mattered.

The blonde was still sitting on the happy concrete as he watched the man in the vest through his open curtains. He entered his brightly lit room, greeted by his brightly lit woman. The blonde on the ground smiled and waved as he pushed a cigarette passed his split lip.

She held the man in the vest back as his blood boiled up again. Instead he just marched over shot a few daggers at the blonde and shut the blinds.

Porter pulled himself up off the ground, all the outside bits hurt. The skin and the bone, but the inside, no one could touch that. He ruffled his short blond hair, running a finger across his jawline. Making sure his rudy good looks were still all in the right order. Dusting himself off he felt a little melancholy slip in as it usually does. The image of the woman he’d been sent to spy on greeting the man she sent out to beat his ass, warmed the cockles of his heart. A part of him knew he’d never have that for some reason. Nah it was just his job to watch, like someone paid to poke an antfarm every ten minutes or so, see what fell out.

What fell out this time; a husband paid him a couple hundred bucks up front to get him pictures. His woman was stepping out with some small time country music singer. Apparently the honkey tonk man’s daughter made it big up north and left him down here to rot. Squeezing her two dollar ass into five dollar spandex and shaking it for teenagers. Fine work, if you can get it. Now he was carving himself off a piece of someone else’s wife.

He’d already been hanging on the last couple of nights and he had enough pictures. This was just a follow up, obviously he’d out stayed his welcome.

~

Small Change

Preacher Season 1 review

Long story short; It fucking sucked.

I’m a big fan of the comic, in fact I think it’s one of the first Garth Ennis comics I’ve ever read and it inspired me to read The Boys and his Punisher Max run as well as his Hellblazer run which was great. As well as of course influencing my own writing greatly. The man is a comic legend, he goes a little too far sometimes or not far enough and he’s copied by wankers the world over but no one can do it quite like him.

That being said Preacher is probably his magnum opus, a perfect distillation of his wit and particular brand of filth and blasphemy, creating a story that is so ridiculous but well-formed and coherent it begs belief that it isn’t being burned at this minute by some left-wing feminist with pink hair. Purely because she hasn’t read it because she can’t read anything that isn’t written in period blood or is specifically about vaginas.

Preacher is probably one of my favourite comics of all time, I won’t say it’s my favourite because it’s kind of pretentious but it’s up there. The story is great, it constantly keeps you guessing, it’s funny and action packed and the characters are fantastic each with their own well developed back stories and personalities. It’s hard to express how great this comic is, I mean some of the plotlines are fucking daffy but it feels so well put together and well told that it really felt real, the characters were silly but their struggles felt real and that’s what good story telling is supposed to do. Make you forget despite the ridiculousness of the situation that you’re in a story.

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But the tv show is a fucking mess. My first gripe is with the casting, Dominic whatever his face is a pathetic baby faced Jessie Custer, I don’t buy him for a second as a badass chain smoking preacher, not for a second, his head is the size of an Oreo and is just too squishy and round looking. Tulip, who cares about Tulip, she’s got to be the most throwaway character in that comic, I don’t care that they made her black but they somehow managed to make her more annoying in the show than the comic, but needless to say she’s the worst character in the series. She just never had any depth for me other than being his girlfriend, she never really has any struggle that isn’t shared, any story or character of her own. Just a generic badass female cardboard cut-out that does nothing but whine about everything and was never believable even in the comic and is now even more cartoony in the show.

My favourite character Herr Starr, the strap-on loving bald German weirdo isn’t even in it, I guess they’re saving him for I dunno maybe season four when the actual story starts.

Ok so the Cassidy casting is ok, he’s a good actor, he’s been in some stuff before, he’s fun and funny and likeable but he shows up and what is he doing? Fuck all. The entire first season is filler, unabashed, unashamed filler. Nothing happens, nothing from the main plot of the comic happens in the first season. And yes, I’m not counting the story of the Saint of killers that they took ten episodes to tell, because that was a one shot spin off about his backstory, it wasn’t part of the whole series.

So, the only part of the first season that actually happens in the comics is from a one shot that isn’t in the actual comic.

You have this massive sixty issue comic to borrow any of the number of plotlines but decide to just finger your asshole for ten episodes while Jessie tries to save some shithole Texas town for what purpose? It’s just the plot and the rationale for each character is just so fucking thin. Why is Cassidy there? What he just shows up and they become mates instantly, boom he’s there in the church for good.

Tulip shows up because she found someone from her past that fucked them both over and wants him to come help her get him and then later decides just to go get him without him anyway so it was pointless.

The whole first season is just wasting time, like one big trailer, nothing happens, the whole first season is a bunch of idiots flailing around pretending they’re following a plot when really nothing is happening.

Did the writers even read the comics or did they make up the whole story looking at covers and reading the blurbs on the back?

“Err angels, god powers, vampires, got it.”

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(Just found this online, fuck he would have been perfect to play Jessie, if he wasn’t, you know, starring in a show that didn’t suck haha).

Also AMC is probably the worst network for it to be on, what you can have a vampire dismantle a person with a chainsaw but he can’t so ‘fuck’ or actually fuck anyone or see any tits… in Preacher, in a Garth Ennis comic. GARTH FUCKING EXPLODING DILDO ENNIS!
It’s a joke, this is probably the rudest and crudest comic ever created, there were actually characters called ‘sexual investigators’ who’s whole job was just buggering random people, I’m not even kidding. The main villain is obsessed with getting hookers to peg him with his head in the toilet. How can this ever work on AMC?

It’s a fucking insult to the fans in my opinion and I’m amazed this pile of mediocre shit is doing so well when shows like Constantine, which were flawed sure but still had a lot of the comics in it while creating an original plot line (Maybe it was from a plotline further on, I haven’t read the more recent Hellblazer comics) got the axe. I mean Constantine was a little cheesy but the casting was on point and I think given a second season it could have done better or bombed itself into extinction, but it deserved a second chance, this pile of shit is wagging it’s dick in your face and laughing and people who aren’t fans of the show have no idea they’re being fucked.

I really have nothing much to say about it, ten episodes and nothing really happens, nothing progresses the plot, it’s just a bunch of stuff happening with interlaced snippets of the saint of killers one shot storyline, which was the only good parts. The rest is just adlibbed nonsense non-story plucked out of some Hollywood execs ass.

I mean he must use his god powers like once an episode if that and he never really does anything cool with them like telling Arseface’s dad to go fuck himself quite literally. I mean I’m sitting here with this whole comic in my laps and this show doesn’t have the balls to even have him leave his crappy church until the end of the season. So, in the timeline of the comic the first season is basically the first issue of the comic with the saint of killers one shot stretched over ten hours. That’s what a fucking joke this show is. I mean this is worse than the walking dead making a whole season about the farm they spend like ten minutes at in the comic. I mean that was boring but it was consistent and there was some action/romance/struggle/bullshit.

Preacher as a tv show in my opinion has literally nothing going for it, it’s a lot of style over substance and compared to the comic it’s an unfunny joke.

I’m pissed, I wasted ten hours waiting for this to get good and it wasn’t even so bad it was good, it was just lame. On a brighter note, I watched Lucifer season one and I really enjoyed it so I might do a review on that. Or maybe not since I appear to prefer bitching than talking about stuff I like ha-ha.
Long story short, this isn’t Preacher, I don’t know what it is, but stop it.

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Well anyway, rant over.

Peace out.

Have a good Christmas!

Ham on Rye

First I must apologise for my absence to my readers (all three of you), I’ve been deathly ill with some unknown pathogen and haven’t been capable of doing much more than playing payday 2 endlessly and coughing up chunks of lung.

With my return I decided to share one of my older Dahmer and Greg sketches, this was a guest piece by the guy who does the art for 3 Ring, the one and only Mike (Now Ike, there was already a Mike Golden in comics) Golden. And use it to address a current trend I’ve noticed or maybe it’s just me.

It’s become quite ‘trendy’ so as to say mainstream or socially acceptable to mock Christianity and creationism and Catholicism and all that jazz. This is not to say I have anything against them being mocked, quite the opposite as you can see from the strip, I did it myself.
I feel any and all beliefs should be rife for scrutiny and parody at all time without exception.
I personally consider myself an atheistic Satanist but that’s a long story in regards to why I don’t call myself an atheist anymore, which is tangentially linked with this but a bit too much of a digression, don’t want to hurt that flow.

I think its fine and necessary to mock all beliefs and anything that isn’t nailed down including and especially atheism, which is why Trey Parker and Matt Stone of South Park will always be heroes of mine for leaving no stone unturned for parody and having the balls to carry it through.

I think I may have touched on this before when I talked about the Isis cake thing, but I do think there’s a reticence in the left or at least the social justice left to criticise Islam when they’ll happily mock Christianity and get a million retweets on twitter.

But if you criticise Islam you’re instantly a bigot and a racist and you deserved to be hounded off twitter. If you criticise feminism you’re a misogynist, if you criticise blacklivesmatter you’re a racist again. All these labels are just there to squash discussions and to not have to debate their points logically.

But that’s not really what I’m trying to get at, the overall point I’m trying to make is that mocking Christianity has as a result of it becoming socially acceptable it’s become boring and meaningless, oversaturated. It would be like making a pedo priest joke, everyone’s heard them all. There’s not bite anymore, I guess with this new wave of social justice warriors I’ve garnered a new found respect for Christians. I don’t in any way believe in objective morality but after seeing the depravity and solipsism of moral relativism, I can appreciate the goal of seeking moral objectivity despite it obviously being impossible.

I think to myself if I had kids who would I prefer them to be brainwashed by a feminist or a Christian? I come up with Christian every time. I mean there’s not a lot of difference really, both will tell them they’re broken pieces of shit that need this overbearing force in their lives to get right with. Both will tell them only through them can they be saved and both will say anyone that disagrees with them is an idiot or a bigot. But the Christian will at least instil them with some sense of morality even if it’s for a completely ridiculous reason when the feminist will just ask mindless obedience to whatever scattered ideal they have at the moment.
Maybe if you gave social justice and feminism a couple thousand years more it would be a better or a more solid religion than it is but right now it’s all over the place.

I think that’s way with all culture to be honest, once it becomes mainstream and socially acceptable is the point it stops being edgy and it stops making the point it made before. Christian beliefs if you truly believe them literally are silly, let’s face it but allegorically they’re not that bad, a lot of the book is pretty inconsistent and is relative of the time for most of the bullshit about justifying slavery, I’m by no means being an apologist for Christianity but moreover the most radical of Christians are just fucking annoying, they don’t blow (usually) blow your shit up or cut your head off on camera or try and get you fired from your job and destroy your life for disagreeing with them on the internet.

So to me hating them seems like a waste of energy, I don’t agree with them, I don’t support them; I just think it’s better than tumblr. The bible is better than tumblr there I said it ha-ha (I’m full of shit, I’ve never read either). I just can’t summon the energy to hate them when there are forces amassing in power that are far more insidious than some 2000 year old Jew zombie cult. It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth, like someone smacking an old donkey. It’s like how it’s sort of socially acceptable to be racist and sexist towards white guys, even among white guys, these people, these sjws think they’re counter culture. They think they’re not mainstream, they’re edgy and hip, they couldn’t be more wrong, they couldn’t be more mainstream, they are the establishment and the sooner people realise that the sooner they’ll fall apart.

Forgive this dazed sickness induced rant, just been rambling incessantly from one abstract point to the other incoherently and I must put it to a stop right now and get back to trying not to die.
Peace out!

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