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GS 2 Chapter 5 ‘Graveyard Chamber’

Hey der, girls and boys.

Err not much to speak of this week, been really busy as you can expect for someone who is a professional waistrel. Mainly been out of commission due to life getting in the way or this fucking chipper whether. If only I lived in a damp drafty castle I wouldn’t have to worry about getting dehydration headaches, maybe just gout or scurvy or something.

Been hard at work with the old serial killer book, lots of fun. Doing some savage ass reviews. My fucks have well and truly given out when it comes to inkitt stories. I’m just so fucking sick of reading romance and erotica novels, jesus christ!

Anyway, the new book is going great, having a lot of fun with, like a kid in a freaking candy store, still zucced so no facebook but hey they just buffed my favourite deck in Gwent so now I’m unstoppable haha. Which is good cos I still suck at friday the 13th despite paying full price for a game with only one mode that’s full of noisey twelve year olds who are ten times better than you.

So, you know, the usual, I’d complain but who would listen haha?

Also I went on another really cool zombie podcast called Zombie Anonymous and honestly, not shitting on the other podcasts I went on but this was the most laid back and fun I thought. Don’t get me wrong, those other podcasts were great but I really got to verbally shit post in this one and had some fun talking about the second book and it seemed to go down well. Eh maybe it was just me.

Anywho, without further waffling here is the next chapter for your eyeballing pleasure.

Hyperlink below to the full thing as per.

Graveyard Chamber 

“I think we should be heading back to the convention centre now Mr Fuzzles, it’s getting dark, the streets aren’t safe.” Sparkles said in her sweet high pitch Saturday morning cartoon character voice.

 

“Ok sparkles, let’s walk back together, it’s not too far and it’s a shaping up to be a beautiful night.” He smiled with his voice and cocked his arm for her to loop her hoof in the crook of it.

 

The sun was on it’s last legs now. Only a tinge of orange left in the dark blue sky drawn over the winter wonderland. Bovarian style houses and storefronts dusted with pure white snow. The cars passing petering out as everyone sought shelter in their homes or strip clubs. The wind was picking up and it was bone bitingly cold.

 

“Freaks!” “Stay in the circus!” A guy in a trucker cap said as he sped past in a red pickup.

 

“Do you think they were talking to us?” Sparkles said coyly.

 

“No, I don’t think so” Mr Fuzzles said as he shrugged cartoonishly. “Let’s head back to the convention centre before it gets too dark.” He said tugging at her white hoof. Out of nowhere a big gulp cup tossed from a passing car hit him in the stomach spreading an almost luminous blue slush over the white part of his costume.

 

Mr Fuzzles padded the growing blue stain on his purple costume and looked up at the car speeding away and said “Eh hey sorry, you spilt your drink, I guess”.

 

“Come on Mr Fuzzles we’ll get you cleaned up back at the centre” Sparkle said tugging at his fuzzy purple arm.

 

“Ok” He said.

 

They started walking back. A little bounce in their step as they retraced their route which was pretty much a straight line from the centre along the main road out of town. The main high street was lined with touristy shops and diners. They hadn’t strayed too far so before they knew it they were in front of the familiar centre again. Oddly though it seemed a lot quieter and there didn’t seem to be that many lights on.

 

Mr Fuzzles tried the front entrance of the convention hall tugging at it, it rattled but wouldn’t open. “That’s weird” He said.

 

“Is it locked?”

 

“I guess”.

 

“What’s that smell?” Sparkles said swiping the air theatrically.

 

Mr Fuzzles cupped his hands and tried to look through the glass doors but couldn’t see much, it was dark inside.

 

“What can you see?” Sparkles brushing up against him.

 

“Erm, everyone’s lying down I think?” He said blushing.

 

“They all went to sleep on the floor?” She rose up in a cartoony shocked gesture.

 

“I dunno”. He shrugged.

 

“Well wake them up, I’m not sleeping out here, it’s too cold for a unicorn.” She said shaking Fuzzles shoulders.

 

“Hey let us in! Wake up!” The giant purple cat said as he batted the glass door with his soft paw. He pressed up against the door and started to shake it to see if he could force it open, straining. It started to give way with some effort and he breathed a sigh of relief wiping his furry brow. He hadn’t budged the door much, it was still really dark inside and there was no movement. The space in the door was maybe a couple of inches wide and that smell was even stronger leaking out.

 

He looked over at Sparkles and she seemed to be upset, her hooves up on her hips.

 

“Well?” She said.

 

He went back to the door, and started to push it more “It’s stuck on something” He strained. With great effort, huffing and puffing and probably a gallon of sweat soaking into his costume. He opened up a gap large enough for them to squeeze through

 

He took a step back to pant and put his paws on his hips waiting for a round of applause or a kiss or something. Turning triumphantly to Sparkles who was looking inside cautiously.

 

“Well?” She said standing over him.

 

“Uhh?” He said catching his breathe bent over with his hands on his knees.

 

“Are you going in?” She said in her little voice.

 

“I dunno Sparkles, it’s kind of dark, what if I fall, I don’t know where the light switches are, I might get lost. I think we should just go.” Sparkles was hoofing around in her little sparkly purse as Fuzzles rambled to himself.

 

“Here” She said as she hoofed him a small pen torch. “I’m not sleeping in my car in this weather.”

 

“Err thanks.” Fuzzles said.

 

“Always be prepared” She said as she posed cockily.

 

“Errr” He said stalling.

 

“So, go on, I’ll be right behind you, you’ll be my shining kitty in furry armor” She said getting a little excited. “If we stay out here we’ll freeze to death for sure.”

 

“O-k” He said confidently, his chest swelling with bravado.

 

He clicked the torch on and started probing the dank heavy dark of the convention centre.

 

The small torch poked at the darkness, showing them little more than a peepshow of nothing much but an empty room with eggshell white walls.

 

“Lets go, I’m cold” Sparkles whined and bounced up and down behind the back of her Kitty in shining armour.

 

“Ok” He swallowed loudly as he started to push through the small gap in the door of the convention centre.

 

He forced his way through, popping out on the other side a slight ripping noise cutting the silence of the musty room.

 

“Oh crap” Mr Fuzzles said.

 

“What is it?” Sparkles said as she followed gracefully behind popping through the door with a practiced wiggle.

 

“I ripped my costume” Fuzzles said as he looked down the torch clutched in his fuzzy mitt. He probed the cut with the light and tutted. “I need to get to the sewing kit in my room” He said dejected.

 

“Err Mr Fuzzles?”

 

“Yeah, what is it?”

 

“Are you touching me right now?”

 

“No”

 

“Oh ok, erm…”

 

 

GS2 Chapter 4 ‘Any given Sunday’

Holy shit, I don’t know what to say really. I’ve spent the last four days writing the first book in my new series and I’m sort of ‘shook’. I got in front of it and I sort of felt dread at first. Like it’s easy to just shit this silly zombie stuff, it’s so tongue in cheek and loose and clearly just for fun and monies. But this was different, this was the real deal, real blood sweat and tears and soul pouring and all that stuff. Real effortposting. It was serious and life affirming, this could be my greatest work to date. Perfectly bringing together the humour I’m sort of known for now but with this dark and bitter bite to it that keeps people coming back for more.

Needless to say I really enjoyed writing it, I felt a little overwhelmed but I think it sounds almost perfect, like Dexter reborn anew. I’m not going to say it’s the same or as good but I feel small in comparison, like I know the basic plot points but I’m the most anxious of all to see where it takes me. It’s unknown territory and I think it’s going really well, I would die for some feedback but it’s a bit too soon for that. I’ve been taking my time with it but I’ve sort of conditioned myself to keep up the 2k word limit, it’s just about giving yourself ample time and breaks to let it come out as naturally as possible in any given amount of time.

I’ll put up the first chapter next week probably and fuck it, I’ll probably put it on inkitt just to beta the first chapter because I’m so excited about it. It’s the dawn of a new era.

Oh yeah back to GS2 and does Sunday make an appearance? Find out for yourself why don’t you in chapter 4. 

Any Given Sunday

You know the drill, excerpt below, full chapter over on inkitt for free, for now haha.

See you.

~

TJ stumbled back through the cluttered store, taking in heady gulps of musty leather smell and dusty blued metals from the old helmets and gear. He delicately probed the bump on the back of his neck, a confused babe in the woods look on his face as he got closer to the counter.

The old man hadn’t moved and he looked like a waxwork in a some morbid museum of people not doing much. His feet up on his desk taking wheezing laboured breathes as he stared at a dog eared issue of guns and bullets.

TJ felt a little light headed, out of breath, he felt in a lot of ways like he just woke up. Which is closer to the truth than he’d like. So much ‘stuff’ had been going on he just got swept a long and didn’t think about food or sleep or any basic processes like that. Where had he been, how long had he been asleep? The mugginess was catching up to him, a ringing in his head, a dry pain behind the eyes, the coming nausea of a pressure headache.

He reached the counter and through a series of short pained breathes he said “Hey old man.” He squeezed his eyes shut and put his palm flat over one eye and breathed out.

The old man responded with a rustling of laminated paper and TJ took that as a sign to go on.

“You seen any girls around erm?” He said trailing off, not sure how that sounded.

The old man peeled down a corner of his of magazine and stared glassy eyed at TJ with an eyebrow raised. He put the corner back and went back to pretending TJ was an elaborate effort of taxidermy.

TJ cleared his throat and leaned in a little closer. “I’m looking for a girl with green hair, has she come through here?”

“Green hair?” The old man said without moving, a rye rise of an octave in his voice. “Hmm.” He russled his magazine again and said “She came in just after you, she’s over by the archery surplies and hunting gear, can’t miss her.” He laughed and went back to being a waxwork,

TJ instantly felt hot, she was here the whole time, he swallowed and felt it burn going down. He was cold and he could feel it on his arms inside his coat and on the back of his neck. He froze and then like a mechanical toy started to turn his head. Failing to look subtle he turned his whole torso over towards the right side of the store. Rebel and American flags lined the walls. Racked up were various bows and cheap looking crossbows. Life size deer targets hanging from the ceiling like polystyrene trophies looking at nothing.

Standing there was a person in a large puffy pink winter coat, a bob of short green hair poked over the top of a high collar. She looked like she was shouldering a crossbow, trying to feel the weight. The store was pretty much empty. TJ couldn’t see Jimmy anymore and it seemed like there were a few stragglers milling around browsing memorabilia.

His legs shook as they probed the floor. The felt and moved like they were connected by puppet strings, floating shakily above the ground. Pulling TJ along like he was magnetized.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her back and as he got closer it was if his eyes got tunnel vision, shrinking back into his skull. The closer he got the further his eyes reeled back in his skull. Until finally like they were on elastic they snapped back and he was a too close, depth perception completely out the window he almost fell on her. He shifted a little too much weight and bumped into her gently. He could smell a sickly sweet smell and then and he got a mouth full of goose down elbow hitting him in the mouth as she turned around suddenly. The winter fabric scraping against his teeth. Hitting him with a dull thud flat in the centre of his face knocking him off balance and filling his eyes with tears.

She didn’t react right away, until he said “Oh, err, sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Didn’t mean to what?” A nasaly voice said. The girl in the large coat turned around and TJ caught his breath, readying his mind and heart to see a ghost in the flesh.

…There was a lot of flesh, a lot more flesh than he remembered, in fact.

“Are you, Sunday?”

~

Ok fuck it, GS2 Chapter 3 ‘Heroes of the Wild’

Ok enough with that sappy, life falling apart bullshit, we’re getting that out of the way, I’m getting out of my own way (I don’t know what that means, it just sounds good) and getting down to some real work here.

So here we go, another unedited, untested, raw chapter of Green Sunday part 2, for your viewing pleasure.

Also shit yeah, lots of updates, already I have cover sketches and shit, and they look awesome and yes they’re going to be at the bottom of this blog, actually no, I changed my mind, I’ll post them tomorrow. 

I was just thinking this would be too packed, with the chapter and the cover stuff and I could stretch it to two blogs instead haha.

Just the chapter now, we’ll do the art tomorrow, sound good? I thought so.

So here it is, chapter 3, (it says 4, there was a prologue, they don’t count.)

Link to the full chapter as always below.

Heroes of the wild

 

“Hi, I’m err, Mr Fuzzles.” Fuzzles the purple cat swallowed hard. His throat was dry, palms sweaty, mom’s spaghetti, riding low in his lower intestine, making him feel a little bloated. “Err what’s your name?”

The unicorn girl turned around and said in a sweet voice “My name is Sparkles, nice to meet you.”

“Hi, err, I was wondering if you’d like to, go for a walk with me?” Fuzzles said scratching the back of his big purple head as he trailed off at the end.

“I dunno, I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave the convention centre, it might not be safe.” The unicorn said bouncing slightly and pressing her hooves together.

“Oh well I would protect you, this cat has claws rarrrr” Mr Fuzzles said play slashing the air with his claws.

Sparkles giggled holding up her hooves to her snout and said “Well if you put it like that. I have no choice but to walk with you.”

“R-really?” The man dressed as a purple cat said. “Great” He said as he put his paw out to receive her hoove.

The girl dressed as a sparkly white unicorn put her hoof in his paw and they walked towards the main entrance of the whitefish convention centre.

“Get the fuck out of my way, furry freaks!” Zomnision shouted as he pushed them apart barrelling into the main convention hall. The convention floor was decked out with banners for the annual furry convention. Men and women dressed as various animals real and imagined, some in giant diapers for some reason, having the time of their lives. In a space they felt safe and secure surrounded by people just like them.

“What’s his problem?” Mr Fuzzles said as he got up and helped Sparkles to her feet.

“I dunno but he looked kind of sick to me.” She cooed softly.

Zomnision staggered, sweating, barely keeping on his feet, “Fucking fuck, what the fuck? I can’t, I can’t keep it in anymore!” He could feel it building, pressure. He let it slip a little bit pushing past a pack of silver wolves. They were standing in a queue for one of the booths selling oversized furry sunglasses. Little squeaky farts and burps he couldn’t keep in. Something was growing and multiplying inside him at a rate he couldn’t control. His vision was a blurr of sweat and fur. “Someone call me an ambulance!”

“You’re an ambulance!” Some anonymous idiot shouted.

“Is that guy on drugs?” A golden marmacet man said.

“What’s with the weird swammy get up?” A mauve giraffe asked.

“Is that cultural appropriation?” A rhinestone pequin in a giant foam cowboy hat said.

“That outfit is kind of racist” Someone said in a valley girl accent.

He fell slamming right into a black wolf with red highlights and bondage gear on. He was holding up a sign that said ‘FREE HUGS’ on it next to a stall with a rainbow flag selling t-shirts. The wolf angrily got to his feet and said “You got a problem you Jeanie looking faggot motherfucker?”

“Please help me!” Zomnision whimpered as the wolf man picked him up by his frilly collar. He was burping and coughing and leaking a strange clear liquid out of his mouth and nose and eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you man?” The wolf said as he pushed him away, wiping his furry paws on himself, looking at the strange liquid. “What is this? It stinks!”

Zomnision tumbled into a pile of furries who were writhing around in a big inflatable ball pool.

“Hey man you’re not a furry” A blue fox with straps across his chest said in the pile.

“Yeah get lost buddy, furries only” A green otter person wearing a pirate hat and eyepatch said.

“Yiff your own kind!” A grey wolf wearing a neckerchief said.

“Get a furself or get out pal” A brown bear in a bikini said in a threatening man’s voice.

“Please, I need help!” Zomnision gurgled, the noises in his stomach were audible to all now and there was movement under his clothes. He seemed to be puffing up, getting larger, his skin bubbling. “It’s in me, I can’t keep it in anymore, it’s growing!”

They furries couldn’t not see it now, Zomnision’s flesh was unnaturally distended. It was stretching as some build up of pressure was pushing his gut and neck and cheeks out. He was filling up like a balloon all the veins raising under his skin like he decompressing.

“What the hell is wrong with this guy, is this some kind of joke?” A man dressed as a Gerbil painted in the colours of the swedish flag.

“What do we do?” A goffer dressed as willy wonka asked.

“Pop him with a pin” A ferret cosplaying as Jack Sparrow asked.

“I can use my claws” A badger wearing an army helmet said.

“You’re not a real badger gary!” The gofferman said.

“I am too, that’s ignorant!” Gary responded.

“I can’t hold it anymore!” Zomnision screamed, his eyes popping out of their sockets, his skin tight and taught and white. There was so much force on his body they could hear his blood vessels popping, his bones creaking as they bent.

“He’s gonna blow!” An owl dressed as Hulk Hogan squawked.

A thundercrack of an unhuman fart ripped through the convention. Within a matter of seconds a thick green gaseous mist spread through the stalls. Saturating the entirity of the convention centre touching everything, filling the room like a vacuum. A green poodle in a top hat and monocle noticed it first breathing it in and passing out, but not before dropping the monocle in it’s drink. Next a parrot in a sombrero inhaled and keeled over. Panic spread as fast as the mist and a stampede for the door was inevitable but it was too late. They were bottle necked, trapped like crabs in a bucket as the mist engulfed them and put them down on the ground unlikely to get up.

Waves of multi-coloured wolves with mutlitcoloured hair and foxes and horse people fell to the ground. Within a matter of moments the convention centre fell silent.

~

GS2 Chapter 2 ‘LionKiler’

Here we are again, you must be masochists. Another, yes another chapter of unedited goodness of Green Sunday’s second outing and my hasn’t she been busy, actually no wait, she isn’t even in this chapter, scratch that. Got some shiny characters for y’all to love and hate.

(Also got some more pictures of green haired chicks haha)

Ok, so, GS2 is done, the ending turned out pretty decent. I know it’s a dumb book, but I feel good about it, like it’ll surprise some people, because for all it’s silliness, there is a semblance of a story building, of relationships forming of characters growing and it does my heart good. And of course soon I’ll be delving into more serious works so I can’t wait for that.

Just proofreading as we speak, talking to Mike from Pagdon illustration about the next cover, this one is gonna be fucking nuts, I can’t wait. I should have it up and selling fairly soon, just editing and hacking away at the usual spammistry. I do love to grind and facebook as always makes it so much fun, adding that extra spice of internet shekel grabbing cancer. I must have been post blocked more than ‘literally hitler’.

As always, link below to the full unedited chapter and if you’re new and want to buy the first book head on over to amazon with this lovely little linkle; Green Sunday 1

And yeah I know it says it’s chapter 3 on inkitt, well who you gonna believe me or them?

LionKiller

“Rigby.” Evergreen turned to his right keeping his eyes on this strange little man. A mercenary not wearing a mask, came up beside him carrying a carbon fibre case in one hand. The Merc was tall and broad with fair hair and the face of a rugby player. Looked less like a face and more like two fists trying to fuck as he scrunched it up trying to size up the strange Frenchman.

Rigby eyed the strange man up and down, like he was looking at leprechaun that just jumped out of his cereal. Continuing to stare at the odd spectacle of a man, he craned his neck back as Evergreen opened the case in his arms.

Evergreen pulled out what looked like an oxygen tank. A truck on the highway behind the tall trees shielding them from the road rushed by honking at the sun going down.

Evergreen let the heavy tank fall by his side as he turned to the strange Frenchman.

He held up a nozzle as he spoke which was connected to the pressurized gas canister and said “A pressurized gas gun. Used by lock smiths to push locks out of their frames. Something similar used by slaughterhouses to kill cattle. Shoots a jet of highly condensed air when a seal is made and it can prove quite destructive.” He said as he handed it to the Frenchman who eyed it with fascination for a moment.

“Mai qui, how you say? ‘What a piece of crap’. I would maybe be better with my dick in my hand.” The Frenchman laughed as he messed with the nozzle shooting out little jets of air messing up the curly hair under his beanie riding high on his head. He squinted and smiled before tossing it back towards Evergreen, landing at his feet.

Rigby picked up the canister still eyeing the Frenchman with an odd distasteful expression and put it back in the case and sealed it shut.

“I find something in town maybe.” He shrugged scrunching up his multiple stubbly chins. He smiled and said ”see you, aurevoir!” As he pushed passed the mercs and started walking towards the main road. “TAXI!” He called out as he climbed an embankment pushing through the trees to get to the road

Rigby watched him go and said in a broad Yorkshire accent “What a total twat”.

Evergreen let out a sigh in agreement.

Oh Golley-gee Green Sunday has a release date!

Great googly moogly, the day has come and that day is the 2nd of may, and that kind of rhymed, how special.

Everything is set, got the final cover as the head image, the edits are done, I don’t know about audiobooks yet but it’s all a go and I’m set to go on another podcast the day before it launches, which works out great. Got my advanced reviews hopefully coming in, gotta shake some people down for those. Prices are gonna come out at 99c for the ecopies for a limited time, then they’re gonna shoot up the exorbitant price of $2.99 bwaahaha!

Updates updates, almost finished GS2 and I’m proofreading as I go in between spamming GS1 and I did a short story for an anthology which was fun, I’ll probably post that at some point. I’m actually really looking forward to finish this book because this next series I know is gonna be the shit. But I’ve had so much fun writing GS2, it’s criminal, and this one is so much better than the first. The action, the comedy, the satire, the drama, all wratcheted up. I’m slowly building an actual story here too, so it’s not just a bunch of zombie ‘stuff’ happening haha. I’m very satisfied with it.

I also have some awesome ideas for the new cover, so I can’t wait to get that going. I just love creating and spending my money on cool shit more than I actually like making money haha. I will die poor, in short. Poor but with a satisfied grin on my face.

Gonna have some full cover mock ups below with the blurb and everything.

I think that’s pretty much everything, still giving out those advanced review copies and those free ebooks of course for the mailing list sign up.

So pretty time all round.

See you…

Green Sunday 2 Chapter 0 ‘The big Boss’

I done did it, I just kinda thought ‘fuck it’.

I’ve been really busy lately, why I haven’t been blogging in like two weeks. I took the final edit of GS1 a little too seriously and it took two weeks of me going over it with a fine tooth comb to get it ready for publication. I took some breaks to keep up writing the sequel of course. I’m not a total retard, it doesn’t take me two weeks to read my own book haha.

So now that’s out of the way I thought, ‘Hey why not?’ So here it is GS2; ‘Second Sunday’. I’m playing with the title, either that or ‘Another Sunday’

Keeping it short and sweet today, gotta leave more bullshit for tomorrow haha. So peace out folks and of course, check out the rest of the chapter on inkitt or just ya know wait fucking months for it to come out in a hard copy haha.

And we’re back to the icecream thing again because… it’s rough unedited shit man, straight from the insanity oven haha

See you…

GS2; Second Sunday Chapter 0

“Eh yello! Mr Peshwari-san how are you this fine Thursday?” A daper man said into a bluetooth headset. “Uh huh, yeah, oh yeah he’s dead, nothing left. We were picking up pieces of him with tampons and little packing peanuts soaked in bleach.” He let out a little unintentional laugh. “Oh yeah then we burnt the whole town to the ground, it was fun we roasted marshmellows and told racist jokes.” An Asian man in a golden suit was sitting at a large ostentatious onyx desk in the shape of two black women pressing their asses together. His feet resting crossed legged atop a curvaceous butt cheek.

He was listening on the phone smiling as the man on the end nattered Charlie brown style into his ear as he nodded smiling. “Well what can I say, don’t let your kids compete in zombie deep web gameshows I guess, I mean that’s a given right? Uh huh” He looked around his office getting a little bored now. Yawning with the affectation of one missing out on some interesting thing passing by the window while on the phone. He had the air of someone who would break his neck turning his head to see something. Anything to keep boredom from creeping in, but that was fine because he could afford to get it fixed.

His office aside from the desk was what you might except from some yuppy half-asian weeb. Zen gardens, samurai swords hanging on the wall, Japanese versions of old western movie posters and old ukiyo ed paintings. A mix of American and Japanese styles tastefully seething around the new looking tacky sex desk. A giant picture of himself behind his desk pulling a trollish grin giving the ‘ok’ sign. The plaque read “’Dirty’ Dan Pudgiwara – Ceo Pudgiwara industries.”

“Uh huh, huh, ok, well but- yeah, well I’m sorry, he signed a waiver. We’re not liable for his unfortunate demise competing in an illegal underground zombie hunting contest, ok, I don’t know where you’re going with this.” He nodded his head a little more, shaking it smiling like he was about to laugh. “You’re just saying words now, ok yeah, what do you want me to do about it? There isn’t enough of him to fill one of those little girl jimmy hats.”

He crinkled his nose listening, swivelling in his chair like a bored toddler. “He was a big boy and sometimes big boys get mulched by their own claymores, he wasn’t playing golf for the love of fuck. You’re just whining like a little bitch, what do you want me to do? You’re like a muslim or something right you’ve got to have more than one son, you fucking people breed like bunnies. Sikh, whatever.” A pause as he listened and his face grew some lines in an otherwise baby visage. “He was your only son, well sucks to be you I guess. Ironically I can’t bring him back to life unless you want a living dead puddle. Maybe you could put whats left of him in a paddling pool and soak your feet in the faggot.” He continued to listen only to wait for breaks to say more offensive shit. “Uh huh, yeah, well fuck me if you want to throw more money at it be my guest. Don’t you have more important things to do like fucking goats, plaiting your fucking beard hair?”

Mr Evergreen, a tall man, pitch black in skin colour but with the smooth symmetrical features of a clothes mannequin sidled into the room. He was wearing a pressed charcoal suit over a rigid atheletic frame a binder under his arm. He entered the room without making a sound. “Well good day to you too Peshwari-san.” Dan said smiling a shit eating grin as he put the phone down. Turning his best Nicholas Cage surprised smile on Evergreen as he propped his elbows onto the ass cheeks of his desk and cradled his head.

“Who was that?”

Green Sunday Chapter 17 ‘Fatal Hesitation’

Hey there,

Back again for some of that theatrical writterly shit haha.

Ok right off the bat if anyone complains that I’m not crediting the cosplayer for my header image, you can just blow me because you can’t copyright ass and titties ok haha. Cosplay is cancer anyway and I fucking forgot where I got this picture from. Fuck cosplay ok haha.

So what’s new? Barreling ahead with the sequel for GS for a start, I’m almost amazed by how insane it is. Like I’m almost afraid to edit it, because it’s just like the ravings of a lunatic and I love it. I’m afraid to change it.

But in other news, signed that contract so now I’m working on the cover in tandom with Muddy Boots and we’ll have a launch date soon enough, which is cool.

I do this horrible thing where I look back on my work to try and see what it is I’ve done and right now all I have to my name is this dumb fun zombie book haha. Like all the standalone stuff is kinda ethereal at this point, it’s not there yet, it’s kinda scattered so this is really the only thing I can sink my teeth into and that sort of makes me miserable haha. But what’s good about it is it forces me to move forward in my head with the other planned series’ I have namely the Dexter homage and the weird ass fantasy series I was planning both nameless at this minute in time haha.

I think I’m ready for that, it’s weird, it’s not that I think I’m not good enough to write them, it’s like I don’t want to binge on them. I don’t want to have too much fun all at once and have nothing left at the end. I like pacing myself, writing some slock in between, like eating your vegetables before you get to desert. But I just couldn’t contain myself when it came to the sequel for GS. I was either going to rush the slock filler novella I was writing or I just had to drop it like I did and move onto a project that was more fun and just inherently immediately necessary.

This is not a job, its all passion but sometimes passions have to be measured. It’s easy to abstain, easier to binge, its hard to be balanced and think about every move you make because each step is another step closer to the grave.

Cheery motherfucker I am haha.

Anyway, wanna thank all the people signing up to my mailing list and all the people who have taken review copies and are letting me know what you think on the daily, its fantastic to hear. Mailing list will be in triple digits soon, its looking good. Love life is still in the toilet haha, but you can’t have everything all I can do is complain, its not like I’ve been looking or would even know what to do with a woman right now if I caught one haha.

Enough of that jive, got a chapter for reasons, why not? This is one of the last times this is gonna be free haha. So heres fatal hesitation, enjoy and peace out.

Fatal Hesitation

~

Pete’s fingers fidgeted, fumbling for the large knife in the decorative sheath on his hip as Dave lumbered towards him, scratching and mumbling unintelligibly.

“Itchy-scratchy…itchy.”

“This isn’t right.” Pete drew the twelve-inch blade, it seemed to take longer than he remembered “That caant said it wasn’t contagious; we’re s’posed to be immune!”

Dave stumbled forward, as if pulled at the hip by a lasso. His joints locked and released seemingly beyond his control.

“You’re alright, lad. We’ll get you looked at. Just sit down,” Pete said calmly as he slowly raised the kukri to chest height.

Dave stumbled again, then his whole body curled as if his spine were made of a Slinky. Without warning he lunged at Pete.

Pete swung, missing one beat and sinking the large knife into Dave’s shoulder. It went about six inches into meat and bone and got stuck. “FACK!” Pete screeched as he tried to push and pull the big knife out of Dave’s shoulder. Dave was unaffected; the wound didn’t even bleed, just oozed a strange, black ichor. Dave scrabbled all over Pete like an insect on its back. His fingers were all over his face and in Pete’s mouth as he pushed him to the lip of the gun store roof.

Pete reeled backwards, forcing Dave’s hand out of his face. Dave fell over him like a wave: no self-awareness, no thought, just a tidal wave of primal hunger, washing over Pete as he was swept closer to the edge of the roof.

Pete let go of the knife. He took a split second to look at the drop from the roof to the street below. It wasn’t that high. The building was just one storey; he could survive a drop. He scanned left and right, looking for something to use as a weapon. Time slowed and it took him forever just to turn his head. He looked to his left: nothing but a pile of MRE wrappers and a bed roll. To his right, his air bow. He snatched it up and locked it into his shoulder, pulling the trigger to an exasperated hissing sound.

The bolt rebounded in a dull ricochet off Dave’s jaw, leaving a ragged rip across his face. His lower jaw lost tension and fell open like a snake’s. “FACK!” Pete scrabbled for his quiver of bolts, knocking it over. Shiny black bolts spilt out all over the roof. “FAAAACCK!”

 

GREEN SUNDAY Chapter 16 ‘Kill Too Hard’

Hello again my dedicated stalkers, all the handful of you haha.

Back again with more of that good literary shit.
Had a few people take me up on the review copy shenanigans since yesterday, gonna keep rolling out that train today with some shameless spamming.

Oh yeah almost forgot, got an update on the cover, realising now as I’m writing this and remembering it in real time I’m going to make it the header image to this very blog haha. So now that you’ve looked up at the image you undoubtedly clicked to get you on this page, pray tell what do you think. That’s real art folks, not some copy pasted clip art shit done on photoshop, that’s real paint with real brush strokes from a genuine artist. Original artwork paid for by yours truly haha.
I think it’s turned out really great, sort of cartoony but it captures the grindhouse feel I wanted, getting hyped about launch now and not so much feeling the crushing doubt that’s been gripping me for the past couple of weeks in which I’ve sworn never to do nano again haha.
Why you ask? Because it, yes not me, ruined what could have been a career affirming life changing book for me. After getting completely shit on for The one that came back in the reviews the consensus seems to be it’s kind of boring and I blame myself for rushing it to fit into the nano time frame. Or in other words I blame nano haha.
But joking aside, I’m just gonna have to shell out of the nose to have it properly content edited, I’m sure its salveagable, it’s just gonna take a lot of time/money/effort, things I seem to have in great abundance these days for whatever reason (pact with cthulhu).

Ok moving on, still giving away free e-copies of my novella which wasn’t rushed and is really fucking good btw haha. And I’m still giving out review copies of Green Sunday, so get some of those and if you join my mailing list and let me know you want a review copy you will be getting two free ebooks for only the price of your soul and maybe a toe. A small toe.

If you want a review copy just message me on twitter  or facebook or minds through my contact page.

Ok here’s chapter 16 ‘Kill Too Hard‘ for your reviewing pleasure haha.

See you space gender non-conforming squid people.

~

On a ratty-looking desk, an old-fashioned touch-tone phone rang.

The small, messy office filled with the tinny analogue ringing sound.

Mojang clung to the grenade launcher, the wooden sawn-off stock poking his ribs. He ducked behind the desk, taking the small phone with him.

He took the receiver out of the cradle with a plastic clicking sound. He pressed it to his greasy-looking ear.

“Hey, boss!” A cheery voice chirped.

“Bernie, you double crossing pinche puto!”

“Come on, it’s not just me.”

“What are you talking about, you fat, lousy fuck?” Mojang spat into the receiver.

“It’s the fans, man.”

“The fans?”

“They’re bored, Mo. We’re winning too much. We make it look easy. There’s no drama, no suspense. Long story short, they’re replacing you.”

“What the fuck? With who?”

“Ahem.”

“You? Your fat ass is replacing me? No way! Put me through to the top guy. There’s no way they can do this. This is our last game. We’re out. We’re clean. They promised- “

“Sorry, Mo, this comes from the top. Our approval ratings are tanking. They thought they needed to shake things up.”

“No, you motherfucker, you put him on no- “

Click.

The phone went dead. Mojang bit down on the receiver. Snapping it in half over the desk, he threw the rest of the phone to the floor.

He cracked open the grenade launcher and saw there was a hot grenade still in the chamber. He clapped it closed and stiffened his lip. “Fffuck!” He threw the heavy grenade launcher across the desk and hurried over to the window. Barred, it was covered in a heavy mesh, impossible to remove. There was no way he was getting out. He clanged the cage mesh, looking like a kid in a playpen. His face welled up with sweat and nervous tears. “FUCK ME! FUCK ME!”

A clatter outside hushed him. He ducked behind his desk again. He scrabbled for the grenade launcher on the desk.

“No, please, no. I’ll suck dick. I’ll suck your dick,” a muffled woman’s voice said from behind his door. An angry banging. “FUCK, MOJANG! LET ME IN, YOU LIMP DICK MOTHERFUCKER!”

The noise quickly stopped after a brief gurgling sound. An ominous silence fell on the garage, not a croak or a death rattle to be heard. All the blood was already on the floor.

Then a dull banging noise started against the thin door, accompanied by stifled whimpering noises. The noises got quieter as the dull banging got wetter. Each bang was accompanied by sloppy slapping noises.

The pathetic bolt lock popped off. The screws popped out and rolled on the concrete floor. The door swung open on just one hinge.

Mojang peeked over the desk and saw the doorway was empty. The flimsy door itself was plastered in blood and brain matter and there was a big crack down the centre. Strands of long hair stuck out of it.

Mojang recoiled as a mass was slung hard across the desk, like a deer hitting the hood of an SUV. His face was splattered with blood and brains. The girl’s limp limbs twisted in every direction. Her head had caved in. Using it to open a door would do that.

Mojang winced. He used the barrel of the grenade launcher to turn her face around, and his other hand to move her hair aside. Her eyes were half open; they rolled loosely around in her head like dolls’ eyes. He swallowed and closed them, feeling bad for a minute before he remembered he had locked her out.

The lancer stepped inside. His feet made a metal stiletto sound. They were covered in skin -tight metal sandals. On the concrete floor, they sounded like tap shoes or a dog with long nails on a hardwood floor.

“We can talk about this. I’ve brought in a lot of business. We’re the best. We win. We can do better. Fuck, man, we can do whatever you want. I’ll learn to fucking juggle if that’s what you wa- “

“Sorry, you’re cancelled,” the lancer said, a cold chill riding his words all the way down Mojang’s spine.

Mojang fingered the grenade launcher, with its wood inlays, as he looked at the girl sprawled across his desk like a tiger skin rug.

He took a deep breath and scrunched up his face, ringing out vicious tears from his one good eye.

“Fffuck you, silver surfing faggot!” He lifted the grenade launcher and turned his body so he was pointing it at the lancer, with one arm outstretched. His face twisted into his death mask: what would be left of it.

The lancer let out a breathy laugh and gave a wicked smile with those strange eyes. He dropped into a pounce and closed the gap between them with murderous intention.

Mojang fell back, his heart leaping to meet the challenge. He stumbled over a broken phone cord. His finger squeezed the trigger and he proceeded to make an even stupider face.

The building popped open like a giant soda can. The sheet metal peeled back and curled up, licked by flames. The explosion was viewed by an indifferent drone flying overhead, the flames reflected in its ambivalent lens.

GS Chapter 12 edited ‘Live through Death’

Hola people of ‘teh’ world, me again here to spout a mini blog type thing that I do over the chapters of my insane meandering in the world of fiction.

Gonna keep it mercifully short today because reasons, just usual shit. I’m gearing up for nano, wrapping up Ladies Close Your Eyes, I’m pretty happy with it, and the reception on that nepotisitic fart box known as ‘inkitt’ is fairly good. But who gives a shit? I’m enjoying writing it, it was a nice change to do focus on something smaller and different. I’ll try and find a place for it some magazine or contest when it’s done, maybe I’ll get it edited, but judging by the amount of time it’s taking for GS to come back I’d be lucky to get it out before the next ice age. Oh also currently in talks with an artist acquantance of mine for the cover, which should be fun, his art is really… arty. I look forward to spend too much money on that haha.

I’m excited about nano (Almost said about the next ice age), my personal life is in ruins, got no career to speak of but hey I can write some decent shit and that’s a reason not to off myself which is wearing thin haha.

This chapter is the more feelsy one, grab those tissues lads and laddettes, its about to get real up in here.

As usual head on over to those good smarmy twats over at inkitt to get your peepers all over it for free by following this here link. And if anyone wants to send me more pictures of green haired chicks, feel free haha.

Live through Death

~

Candlelight flickered on the counter top in TJ’s kitchen, a weary flame tossed back and forth by a careless breath or a sigh. TJ, his mother and Sunday huddled around the small kitchen table and ate in silence.  A restrained rattling of cutlery hid polite coughs and awkward glances across the table. No one dared utter a word.

TJ’s mom smiled at whomever cast an eye her way, but her smile was a little cracked on one side.

They finished a humble meal of frozen pork chops and a garden salad from a re-sealable pack, which TJ’s mother put back in the crisper at the bottom of the fridge. She cleared their plates.

“Mom, let me help you.”

“It’s fine. You two wash up and get to bed. I set you two up on the couch until we can get your room tidied up.” She sighed. “It’s such a mess; you said an animal got in?”

“Yeah,” TJ said as his hands slipped from the plates. He turned his head away and felt a cold steel ringing in the emptiness that was growing inside him.

His mom smiled as she took the plates to the dishwasher and loaded them in.

“It’s OK. I didn’t like any of those posters anyway; we can get it cleaned up in no time.” A weak laugh tried to escape her diaphragm, but it didn’t quite make it and instead came out as a pained hiccup.

TJ sat back down and looked at Sunday anxiously. She sat with her feet up on her seat, poking at a very dry piece of lettuce, trying not to be noticed.

“I’m done,” she said as she pushed the table away and hopped off the seat. She swam through the tension in the little kitchen and escaped to the cosy solitude of the living room.

TJ bit his bottom lip and swallowed a dry lump, his chest feeling tight and hot.

“Good night,” he said as he got up from the table and walked away. His footsteps, light, barely made contact with the floor. The image of his mother at the kitchen sink got smaller and smaller as he left the room. That image of her burned into his memory.

~

“It’s almost time,” Evergreen sighed. He felt a strange elation washing over him. He kept it to himself. “What do we have in stock?” he said through gritted teeth. A closeted eagerness leaked out in his voice as he leant against a high back chair in the operations van.

“Err, a couple of chimeras, one of those big bastards and that new one,” the tech said as he handed Evergreen a small tablet computer over his shoulder.

The tech seemed to be getting high off of Evergreen’s steely excitement. He sat in his chair, craning his neck to watch. Evergreen smiled, flipping through the pictures on the tablet as it lit up his dark, shark-like face. The mobile command centre was dark, lit only by a series of monitors. They covered the inside of something that looked like a large tanker truck from the outside.

Noticing the attention he was getting from this eager little whelp, Evergreen cast a disparaging eye towards the tech. He was a young guy, maybe late twenties, early thirties, with shaggy blond hair. A set of boxy glasses perched on his sharp nose. His name tag said his name was ‘Murray’. Tossing the tablet into his lap, he said, “Fuck it, ‘Murray’, use ’em all.”

Murray, feeling a little exposed, tilted his eyes down, cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and got back to work. “Yes, sir. T minus two hours to full release of specimens.”

~

In the dimly lit living room, Sunday had commandeered the roomy sofa and had spread herself across it like Cleopatra. She wore another one of TJ’s zombie-themed shirts with no bottoms. ‘Evil Dead’, this time, with a picture of Ash lifting his chainsaw, ready for root canal work.

“Got a big day tomorrow,” she said as she rolled onto her side, away from TJ, revealing a set of pink panties with a picture of a little cartoon, a smiling green ice cream cone, on the back.

He turned away, trying not to look and burst a blood vessel; a sudden rush of sadness hit him. “Tell me…” He pulled a blanket off the coffee table. His mother had set out a bunch of folded bedding for them both. He began to lay it down flat on the wooden floor. “…Are we gonna make it?”

“What are you doing?” She turned to watch him laying the blanket on the floor. “There’s enough room for both of us on here.” She rolled back over onto her side.

“Err.” A cold sweat began plummeting down to TJ’s ass crack, like cold corpse fingers running down his back “What?” His breath came out in short bursts now.

“You need to get your rest for tomorrow.” She paused and took a deep breath. “You can’t sleep on the floor; I won’t let you.”

TJ swallowed hard, harder than he’d ever swallowed, and began to shake his head up and down like a dog.

“O-K.”

TJ edged his way closer to the couch. Each step felt like jumping on a slippery rock in a fast flowing stream. The image of Sunday’s warm back jostled in his field of vision as he tried to get closer. He reached the edge of the couch. He stopped dead, trying not to make a sound.

She rolled sleepily onto her back.

Without opening her eyes, she yawned and said, “TJ, get on the fucking couch.” She then rolled back onto her side, showing him her lovely back again, with that signature green quaff of hair sticking up from where she had just lain on it.

“Yeah, I’m just…”

He turned away and edged his roomy behind onto the tip of the couch, praying to himself in his head, Please don’t fart. Please don’t fart. Please don’t fart. When all his weight was equally distributed, he let out a little sigh, followed by a small yet squeaky fart that he hoped only dogs could hear. He froze, swallowing hard as he waited for her to say something. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! he said to himself. She stirred. His heart pounded in his chest. His throat became drier than a cough sweet sitting at the bottom of an old lady’s purse.

After a moment of nervous pause, he deduced that she was asleep and hadn’t heard, so he began to gradually lower himself into position on the couch. Pulling the cover up over himself and Sunday, he ever so delicately slid his large body in next to hers. His belly pressed against her warm back and, as he put his head down to rest next to hers, he could smell her hair. It smelled a little musty but not bad musty. Like the stump of a tree with fresh moss growing on it, fresh and rich and intoxicating. Her smell made his hair stand up on his pudgy arms. He tried to position his arms behind her back without touching her butt or making too much noise.

Don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner, he said to himself, under his breath, as he slithered his arm around her waist, angling for a more comfortable position while holding his breath. It was not unlike someone trying to defuse a bomb in an eighties action movie.

Sighing and releasing the tension in his arm, he grinned like a monkey and took a large inhalation of her hair as he settled into his dream position: the big spoon of a girl he couldn’t have imagined would say more than three words to him if the world wasn’t ending.

His heart leapt in his chest as if it wanted to climb out of his throat and give him a high five. For a minute he forgot what he was even doing on the couch. Oh, yeah, sleep.

He settled and forced his eyes closed. And he glided off to sleep on rainbows and bullshit.

~

Live through Death

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