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Day of the dead

GS2 Chaper 21 ‘Some girls are bigger than others’

Hey there,

Not much to say today, mostly been working and being boring haha. Not much writing or wackiness happening right and I haven’t really had time to be bored by the witcher. I watched avengers infinity war yesterday and it was ok I guess. I have no strong feelings about it.

Getting to the end of this Parker book, it’s pretty short but I’m taking my time haha. I dunno I’m not rushing to finish it, as I said before it’s just sort of smaller with less in depth characters than the other books so I’m not like dying to read the next chapters like I usually am. 
It’s pathetic, I look forward to bus journeys and waiting for stuff just so I can read but this one is just a little meh. It’s just not as big in scope, it’s all set in one place and although its an interesting place it just sort of kills the pacing. I kinda thought this one would be like home alone but really bloody but it sort of let me down. His traps were kind of short lived and didn’t do much.

I was hoping the story would actually follow the main villain who I thought Stark had built up quite well and then you’d get to experience the fear of running into Parker’s traps from his perspective a little like the fourth book and how terrified the villain in that book is of Parker *spoilers* so much so he chews a cyanide capsule just seeing his face again.

But they killed off that cool villain character like in the first encounter and then bring in this sort of generic mob boss character who hasn’t been built up at all really and he’s not really doing anything except riding around in a golf cart barking orders at people. I mean yeah it’s realistic that he got killed just by fate but it’s just so anti-climactic because I’d actually grown to like that guy and I wanted to see him and Parker go at in the ring of intelligence and to have him go down at the first hurdle made all that time spent with him seem pointless.

I mean it’s sort of that divide you get between subverted expectations and actually being good. I don’t care if a story is predictable as long as it’s good. I don’t care if my expectations are subverted if I’m disappointed. It’s like last jedi all over again, they spent too much time trying to subvert expectations and do something unexpected than they did actually crafting a decent narrative that made sense and good characters people could identify with.

It’s not a bad book, it’s just not great. Parker, you’re getting soft my old pal, you need to get back in shape, oh yeah also one of my favourite characters gets arrested right at the start so that sucked. Probably never see him again now.

Anyway enough bitching about that, time is getting away from me and it’s too damn hot today, need to attempt some real work today and maybe some spamming since I’m back on facebook, but for how long who knows? I seem to have report snowflakes on my friends list who like to flag me and get me banned for saying only the least edgy things haha.

So we’ll see how that goes.

See you… 

–

TJ froze making a stupid face. Trying to flip through ten seconds of footage of his pathetic life flashing before his eyes. Lots of him just sitting in his underpants watching anime and jacking it to anime porn. His mom’s smile, and a man he thought he recognised but couldn’t place. A skinny guy with short dark hair in a buttoned shirt with a pocket protector. ‘Who is that guy?’ He said to himself as he stood dumbstruck. Staring into the those glowing spider eyes rolling towards him through the threshing blades.

“TJ!” A faraway voice called out to him and he turned in a dreamy haze before getting knocked hard on his ass. The eyes following him in slow motion as the buzzing of blades moved like a cloud of wasps shredding up the top ice as they passed.

Sunday knocked TJ out of the way. She pushed her bat out in front of her. The force of the movement of this thing wrenching it twisting out of her hands and sending it into the air. It landed with a thudding clink. Lodging a heavy circular saw blade into the ice like it was put there by the lady in the lake herself.

The rolled to a stop and started to come together. A picture was forming as the rounded gauging blades slowed, white hot. Cooling and steaming on the ice. The frame of the thing heaving with unnatural laboured breathing. Which moved mechanically like bellows making a harsh wheezing noise.

It was big, atleast seven foot tall but hunched like it was on all fours. Twelve foot long with a whipping barbed metallic tail. No backlegs, just the tail and the front pronged metallic claws like a birds. It’s head was a squat thing with no neck, some kind of helmet covered in sharp barbed spikes. The entire length of it’s body was covered in these holes with gauged rounded blades like a “Fucking cheesegrater cyborg?” TJ said as he peeled himself over his fat gut to get a good look at that thing. “Seriously?!” He spat as he got to his knee.

–

For the rest of the chapter head on over to inkitt.

Some girls are bigger than others

0

GS2 Chapter 14 ‘What Isn’t Nature’

Not much today, I mean hey all, high energy, yeah!

Err mainly just trying to make sense of Gab and Minds and also trying to get a decent vpn so I can sneak back onto facebook because they must have me ip blocked or something because whenever I make a new account it gets shut down within a day. It’s really fucking annoying, doubly so since minds and gab seem to be giant piles of steaming wank and twitter is just a mess honestly.
Why can’t something be really good and user friendly but also not greedy and crazy and authoritarian? Why does it being really good and useful necessitate it becoming it’s own enemy, this is to the side of it selling our fucking data and all that bullshit. That’s not even surprising it’s to a point now where people don’t even care. I mean people put all their public stuff out their for the world to see anyway.

Anyway that aside, been kind of a crazy week for me, nothing so spectactular as getting going out and getting drunk or binging on game of thrones and chill on netflix. I’ve been doing a polyphasic sleep experiment mainly for my own amusement on the road to becoming the ubermensch I think I am.
It’s basically where you train your body to require less sleep, because apparently if you get like eight hours of sleep only about sixty percent is necessary rem sleep and the rest is just light sleep. It’s like if you leave your phone on charge and it’s fully charged just as it is instead of actively charging. 

So I thought it would be cool to have more hours in the day but like a moron I went for a really hard one first, not the hardest one just the one where you have like three hours of solid sleep and then three naps throughout the day. I thought it would be ok but it’s really messing me up but not too bad. I can function but I feel muggy and when I get up after three hours of sleep I’m too tired to do anything but game until I actually eat and do some work.

Not to mention I just can’t fucking do it, I think it’s because I’m still lifting so I tend to sleep straight through my alarms because my body is so fatigued from excercise so I feel like my body is cheating me a little haha. I’m doing my best but that motherfucker won’t hear the alarm haha.

I think I’ll give the every man schedule one more night and then go on the less crazy biphasic model, so from three hours and three twenty minute naps to a solid five hour sleep with one nap. That sounds a lot like what I usually do anyway except without the nap. So that shouldn’t be too hard.

I kind of just wanted to do it for fun as an experiment but now as a viable thing I think five hours is a reasonable way to regiment my sleep and I really don’t need to have that much free time where I’m zonked out gaming. 

This is a big thing for me because I’ve been meaning to have a set bed time for myself for a while because I think that’s essential to sleeping well and keeping to a schedule. So this is really helping me with that and it feels like a cool experiment, I dunno why I’m so psyched about not sleeping, fuck my life is boring haha.

~

The Frenchman smiled, his chubby stubbly face lined with blood and light powder burns, his beanie at a weird angle. He bent down sighing to pick up the head as if to dust it off and put it on a shelf.

“Beautiful girl” He smiled again and took up a pose citing Shakespeare “I hardly knew you Horatio”. He grinned at TJ who seethed silently.

“Who are you?” TJ asked

The Frenchman smiled tossing the head over his shoulder “No one.”

Jimmy lunged out of the corner of the room with his big knife gleaming under a halogen bulb. The Frenchman was too fast. Before he could close the gap, the Frenchman drew the nine from his belt and shot without looking. Blowing out the back of Jimmy’s head.

Jean looked back as Jimmy fell against the concrete garage wall. Sliding down as his motor functions slowly ground away to nothing and he became a soggy husk. “I hate being interrupted”.

BJ’s fight or flight instinct kicked in and for some strange reason the coinflip turned up ‘fight’ this time. Must have been the cramped environment. Could have been the fact the only way out was through the tubby Frenchman shooting people like he was checking ticket stubs.

He leapt from his chosen corner he’d ducked into when he heard the door open. He came out swinging the batlike giant black dildo at the side of the Frenchman’s head. It made a most disconcerting slippery wrinkling creasing noise. The tip of the phallus was wrenched through the air towards it’s chosen target.

The Frenchman caught the meaty black dick in midair. The large black member making a sound like a catcher’s mitt getting fucked by a rhino.

The Frenchman’s face got lined with annoyance as that one obviously hurt more than he was letting on. He snaked his arm around his rounded fupa firing centre mass into the fat blonde neckbeard’s gut.

BJ doubled over in pain and fell flat like a sack of potatoes.

The Frenchman sighed again, holstering the nine and then glancing over to his hand. His eyes narrowed and he dropped the giant floppy black dick like it was covered in aids ridden fire ants. The big floppy cock almost bounced with the sheer weight of the thing. The Frenchman quickly looked at his hand and wiped it disdainfully on his jacket.

“Now where were we?” He turned back to TJ but he was gone.

–

“I didn’t even know she had an on switch.” Jaclyn chirped.

“Oh yeah, of course, just reconnect your laptop and reboot ‘her’, just connect a usb and I’ll run another diagnostic.”

Jaclyn did as she was told and shouted “Ready”.

Mac typed away on his keyboard and said “Ergh, yah, power levels are good, she’s not a hundred percent.” He paused making that sucking popping sound with his mouth. “but she should be good, she took a massive hit to her cpu and it needed a hard reset, most of her systems should be online. I’m gonna reboot now, don’t stand too close to her, she might twist your head off like a toothpaste cap.” He giggled. He started tapping away again and said “And here we go.”

It’s body shook and started to animate like it was a horribly misshapen bouncy castle inflating for some terrified tots birthday party.

“It worked.” Jaclyn said.

The thing lumbered into existence once again sitting up like an erected car seat. Breathing heavily and somewhat laboured it’s breath hot and smelling of battery acid.

It got off the counter with giant gollomphing uneasy steps. It straightened and then slumped into some monstrous relaxed clockwork toy wound down position.

The thing looked around, it’s targeting systems scanning every person in the room. The reboot had caused it re-evaluate it’s situation in the femrierarchy. It’s head swivelled from girl to girl. Jaclyn stood in front of her looking through the curtain of the matted blonde wig they’d glued to her head. The targeting system marked her as ‘minimal threat – disregard’.

It’s one good eye swivelled like a camera’s lens pinpointing and scanning Roch who was leering at it in some weary slight disgust. It began scanning, reading her brain waves and blood pressure, dilation of her eyes and marked her as a ‘Possible threat’. It’s eye moved on to Kat at the window, nervously poking through the venetian blinds between pacing up and down. It scanned the way she was pacing, noted ‘paranoid behavior’, ‘quick to anger’ marking her as a ‘likely threat’.

Then moving on, the red of the scanner probed the walls, picking up on the presence of Juanita in the kitchen. The heat signature and the directional mic built into the unit picked her up in the back pacing back and forth. Muttering to herself in between stuffing her mouth with frozen half cooked baked goods.

It picked up and added captions to her ramblings.

She was looking at herself in front of a mirror in the kitchen stuffing her face. Saying over and over “I’m the real Sunday, she’s an imposter, I’ll get that bitch, I’ll get that skinny cunt.”

The scanner marked her as a ‘mentally unstable’ and a ‘high threat level’.

“Systems look good, she should be ready to move out, any problems, don’t hesitate to call”.

–

The garage wasn’t that big, not too many places he could hide. Just the big atv and a few other piles of car parts and garbage that could serve as cover. “Oh time for hide and go seek nes pa?”

The Frenchman walked around the atv, giving it a wide birth, calling out. “I didn’t want to kill your friends, they left me no choice.” He had the nine ready, rounding the atv fast he popped out and fired at the garage door and thin air. “Ah so you weren’t hiding behind the big car.” Jean was about to go inspect the other corners of the garage, the piles of car parts. There was a large tool cupboard off on the far wall but out of the corner of his eye he saw a glint of something. Then a sharp sensation sent all the hairs on the back of his neck into the upright position.

An eye watching him, a murderous intent building, shapeless, formless. Emptiness ready to swallow anyone that stumbled into it. A liquid metal sword grew from under the atv and tried to touch the Frenchman’s foot. He glided upwards lifting his foot out of reach of the hungry blade.

His foot hopped and came down again and the blade turned like it had eyes and a will of it’s own. It flipped and swooped like a bird swiping back on itself. The Frenchman had no choice but to hop his foot up again to avoid the blade and keep his appendage. But the blade came back in the other direction, swooping like it did before with even more power and speed. A tensile strength only a chronic masturbator could summon from his wrists and forearms in such a tight space.

“Merde!” The Frenchman cursed as he dodged the blade again. This time he was ready and he timed the sweep of the blade and stomped a boot on the metal blade of living grass. It wriggled fruitlessly like a dying snake under his tight boot and then died. “ha”.

He ducked under the atv and fired at the dusty dark hitting nothing but concrete. Bullets plinking up and hitting under the car and against the back wall.

An urgent scrambling noise, the suspension on the atv tested to it’s limit. The Frenchman looked up to see three hundred pounds of neckbeard dropping down on him like a homicidal flying squirrel. He fired a few shots at thin air trying to align on the black mass falling on him but there was no time. TJ pounced on him dropping his entire bulk on the Frenchman, knocking him down on the concrete floor.

The Frenchman was dazed for all of a half second before he put the gun to TJ’s head and pulled the trigger.

And then again and again and again. Each time resulting in a hollowing clicking sound with no bang. The Frenchman groaned and reeled back his hand to swat at TJ’s head with the butt of the nine. Hitting him in the side of the head and kicking his weight to the side.

The frenchman got to his feet groaning, prodding his ribs. Thinking to himself which hurt more, the shotgun blast or a fat neckbeard landing on him. He slipped another clip into the nine and pointed it at TJ as he rose to a knee. His eyes a hollow mess of rage and sorrow not looking at anything, just breathing steadily like a caged animal.

“Hmm” The frenchman said as he looked down at the sword. “I’m feeling sporting.” He said as kicked the sword over to TJ. “Pick it up.”

TJ looked up at him, his eyes burning with something far away and altogether garbled. He picked up the sword and stabbed the blade into the concrete ground using it as a crutch to rise to his feet. There was blood trickling down from the side of his head matting with his dark hair.

“I see you’ve accepted my challenged” Jean smiled as he holstered the nine. “I’ll have some fun with you, I think.” He said as he unsheathed a large tactical tanto, ten inches of cold steel drawn from a kydex sheathe under his jacket. “En Garde”.

–

It was raining now, the sound a bitter metronome drowning out the sound of fires. A distant noise approaching, a feeling of loss and forboding, the sun was rising.

A rain drop landed on Carpenter’s face, his head moved a little.

“Wake up Mr Badman” Laura said, hovering over him. “Wake up or they’ll get you.”

He sighed, inhaled and exhaled like a corpse coming back from the dead. “But… I’m comfortable.”

“Get up!” The little girl said.

He opened his eyes to a grey misty early morning. Bitterly cold and damp, he turned his head and felt fur on him. He got up and putting his hand on something soft and wet, his head felt like it was a plastic bag full of broken drillbits and crushed stained glass. He scanned the area and it seemed like a regular empty town. People would be waking up soon to discover this nightmare unfolding right before their eyes. He looked down at the fluffy soft bed he was lying on. It was the furry rabbit that cushioned his fall, it didn’t turn out so good. It’s head bashed open on a pointy but decorative rock in the police stations stylish rock garden. It’s brains splayed out like some modern art pink dogfood painting. They still looked warm, that was good, he hadn’t been lying like this too long, if the cold got in his joints he was done.

There was that noise again coming in hard over the building flames and the rain, the heavy droning whupping sound.

“They’re early.” He said to himself.

–

TJ glared through the Frenchman through his dark emo hair, clutching the sword in his hands. He breathed in, his eyes closed. He tried to find that cool calm place inside himself but could feel his hands tightening on the wrapping of the sword. His grip just got tighter and tighter until he could almost hear it. It hurt, like his hands would bleed from the rough sharkskin underneath the wrapping. The noise of the squeezing was deafening now and he couldn’t take it, couldn’t find it. He just kept seeing her head flying off and the blood and his mother and everything crashing down around him, did it even matter?

His feet weren’t so ponderous. He lurched forward the tacky running shoes he was wearing gave him a great amount of traction on the concrete floor. He barrled his weight forward bringing the blade down with a terrible speed and power.

The Frenchman smiled and dodged the blade effortlessly. TJ truck at him at again, a side ways upward slash and the Frenchman dodged again. Laughing as he cut TJ with his tanto, a manic sick wet laughter like he was enjoying it. The cut was intentionally shallow, like a scratch from a cat. TJ slashed sideways aiming for his neck but Jean dodged it again. Laughing as if he was in a different room or watching the fight on tv between a clown and a fatboy. The clown throwing custard pies as the fatboy tried to catch his nose.

The way he moved was unnatural, he moved like a blimp, slow enough to see but light, like he had no weight. It wasn’t so much like he dodged the blade, as much as he rode the current of air the blade created like a feather. The blade was had no purchase, he couldn’t be cut.

TJ thrust the blade forwards and it rolled off the strange Frenchman as he turned like a bullfighter. He tripped TJ who crumpled in a piled slamming into the door of the atv his sword bounding off under the car and to the other end of the room.

“Well that was fun while it lasted” Jean said as he kicked TJ in the stomach to turn him over. He squatted down next to him. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to torture you”.

TJ coughed in response.

“I’m not one for psychological torture and I’ve no time for games. You must have seen the man I’m looking for, a homeless man, calling himself ‘Carpenter’ I believe. You’ll tell me where he is or satisfy to me that you do not know, agreed?”

TJ said nothing.

Jean crushed down on TJ’s hand against the concrete floor, slowly applying pressure. But TJ grimaced without sound.

“Oh did you think the torture had started, oh no.” He said as he bent down with his knife and cut TJ’s pinky finger right off and picked it up.

TJ screamed but Jean kept his boot on his hand and his face stayed stolid. His double chins amassing to smile at TJ who squirmed under the boot of this madman.

“What do you say now?” he said waving TJ’s little finger. “If you say ‘I don’t know’, I will believe you, but I will have to take another finger. So, what do you say?” He pointed TJ’s own finger at him and smiled.

TJ’s eyes were ragged with fear, a rabbit in a trap. Tired, old and aging more by the minute. His breathe burning in his chest, heart punching at his ribs, banging on the bars of his rib cage. His hand felt numb, the pain burned at first but now he felt nothing. A weird ringing noise in his ears, the room started spinning. A sudden shot of euphoria came over him. He felt dizzy like he wanted to throw up, double vision and he looked past the Frenchman and said…

“Sunday?”

0

GS2 Chapter 8 ‘Five Fingers of Death’

Yo,

Gonna keep this short and sweet because I’ve been sending out querys to literary agents all day and I have some leftover fajitas I made calling my name. So quick updates, moving forward a little bit prematurely with The One Who Came Back. I don’t really know what I hope to achieve because I’m really that sure of it and I only have three chapters edited so far and trying to rush my editor seems to be in vein, I’m considering hiring someone else but I’m sort of broke and I can’t find anyone cheaper and she’s a really nice person, I don’t feel like an asshole giving money to.

This is sort of a dry tun I guess for Diana, just scoping out the thriller lit agents, seeding the ground before I unleash that insanity on them. Got all my women centric ones bookmarked because they might get a kick out of a female Dexter, I know I did ha.

Not that it really matters but honestly, have you ever googled literary agents? Like literally 90% of them are women, maybe even more so, it’s ridiculous and the amount that are looking for ‘women centric stories’ or just ‘women’s fiction’ is astonishing and you wonder why so many of the big authors this decade are women *Hmm emoji* haha.

Ranting aside, I’m edging my way out of the completionist funk, just by doing something and hopefully tomorrow I can throw myself into a new project just to get the gears spinning again.

That’s enough for now.

See you…

Five Fingers of Death

–

Bobby rummaged around in a large key bang as he entered the station’s jail muttering to himself in the near darkness. Only the orange emergency lights giving off an anaemic glow that lit nothing except the hands in front of his face.

“This is the last straw, he’s lost his fucking mind, fuck. First he’s making me bury bodies in the back lot, now he’s shooting people right in the office, he’s losing it, this is it, this is it!” He panted and took in disjointed slakes of breathes like he was having a panic attack. “Gotta, gotta let you guys out, gotta get out, gotta let you and we can leave this fucking mess!” He screeched.

The back of the cells were in complete darkness. He got closer, the hot nervousness in the back of his throat made his fingers and thumbs thick square blocks of dull round weiner meat. Which made finding the right key near impossible. The jangling of the key bang summoning fits of excited hackles from something akin to a dog.

A shadowed figure uncoiled, a dank smell and a quick fluttering of what seemed like wings and the voice. A hot stinking breath that smelled like raw potatoes and meat said right by his ear “Maybe I wanna be in here.” The voice said. Breath was hot and wet and burning like raw onions on the deputies face. He jumped back, tripping over his own feet and tumbling, the back of his head trying to make out with the corner of a metal desk not ending well.

He lay on the floor twitching, blood and brains spreading like hot homemade jam.

“Oops” Carpenter said as he slipped back away from the bars with a slithering sqeaking noise as his arms retracted into the dark cell.

–

0

Green Sunday Audiobook out now!

Das riiitte! Your favourite tongue in cheek ultra-violent rom/zom/com is now an audiobook, caloo calay and I even have free promo codes and sheiiiittt to give out. First come first serve, don’t all shout out at once.

I really do like the voice talent they got, it’s pretty funny, hope you all enjoy it.

See you…

US link

UK link

Below are the codes and instructions on how to redeem them redeem away!

1. Go to my book’s page on Audible.co.uk:[www.audible.co.uk/pd/B074F2NGF7]
2. Add the audiobook to your cart.
3. Log in, or create a new Audible.com account.
4. Enter the promo code (  ) and click “Redeem” on the cart page.
5. To change the price from full price to $0.00, click the box next to “1 Credit” and click the “update” button to apply the credit to your purchase.
6. Complete checkout, and start listening to the free copy of the book.

Audible UK codes:

P8YQJX227S7PC
5JNTXZTNHBCTS
7L3WK83GMEESL
7AHUL5JNBW8CD
LARM5N5EW5W5K
R7T2AS4N9H6UG
LXKCF9FBQ9EYJ
EBZTGRS4EEAAA
4KSX7NAWQFN2L
Z6UYBBZC88HZS
CLLN64CGYSD7J
WFRGZ9B8BLGUA
RZUEJDL8SBFDW
KBYW2T98E68KK
BW8ZQBTRZAQ2C

Audible.com.

1. Go to my book’s page on Audible.com: [www.audible.com/pd/B074F3SH97]
2. Add the audiobook to your cart.
3. Log in, or create a new Audible.com account.
4. Enter the promo code (  ) and click “Redeem” on the cart page.
5. To change the price from full price to $0.00, click the box next to “1 Credit” and click the “update” button to apply the credit to your purchase.
6. Complete checkout, and start listening to the free copy of the book.

Audible.com codes:

C6KP6WFW4NAHY
ZE6KB59PLXKTJ
FHW7LZAD9U3EY
J83DXW7PPZ8U9
KB2W9JPBLJ9GA
0

GS2 Chapter 6 Master of the Flying Guillotine

Hello there,

Just doing that usual zombie mayhem shit, you know.

Not many updates really, just been writing my serial killer book, going a little crazy myself. Little stir-crazy, day job and love life situations still suck but I find not talking about it helps haha.

Just trying to get more sales on my damn book which is a pain in the ass since all social media is fucking retarded and facebook is the only place you can really advertise books properly and even they are shiftless greedy assholes trying to charge you to be seen by even people that follow and like your stuff. So you literally can’t win.

More whining, blah blah blah. Just fucking frustrating, feel like I’m fighting upstream or screaming over a choir of voices all trying to be heard at the same time, it’s fucking maddening.

But hey you know fuck it, I chose this bullshit. I could be working in some office somewhere getting fucked in the ass that way.
So….

See you…

Oh yeah this chapter is sort of cool, named after a dope martial art flick, this is where it starts getting real. Also sneak peek of the cover for part 2 featured. Thought I’d just drop that in there haha.

Master of the flying guillotine

~

“Here’s fine” The nasally voice said.

The grip on his arms loosened and he slipped the grip like a runny egg. Snow crunching under his knees, the cold rushing all around his neck. The wind was picking up and his body heat was creeping away to warmer climbs.

“Do you know who I am?” The nasal voice said,

TJ felt a little dizzy, suffering some advance head rush. He hung his head and breathed in and out slow, his greasy black hair draped across his face. They’d taken him around the side alley of the army navy store, in the relative privacy, sandwiched between two frozen stucco walls. It was too dark and there were no security lights or cars passing who could see a thing.

“Garylynn” The girl with green hair said.

A giant hand with delicately painted and manicured fingernails wrapped around TJ’s neck. Squeezing all his chins into one purple and red mess, lifting him off the ground.

That woke him up, his eyes were wide and frantic now and he kicked away at nothing clawing at the huge and well kept fingers gripping his neck. His vision in and out he looked at the giant that had him. It was some kind of woman, maybe seven, eight foot tall. A long blonde wig, hiding bright round eyes and lots of caked on make up, an adam’s apple sharp enough to poke your eye out.

“I have your attention now?” The nasal voice said. The fat girl with the green hair didn’t get a response and nodded angrily at the behemoth that had a hold of TJ. The monster squeezed. “Yes?”

“Errrgh Y-es” TJ croaked and coughed.

“Why did you approach me?” She asked.

“I- thought- you were- someone else”. He coughed.

“Sunday?” The fat girl laughed and said “So you’re her little fanboy huh?” She got close and looked him up and down with a crick in her smirk “Well now you’ll be mine because I’m here to replace that skank and I’m ten times the woman she was.” She said rolling her head back and forth completely lacking self awareness.

TJ coughed out a hoarse laugh.

“What’s so funny fat boy? Huh?” She screeched getting too close, spitting in his eye. She smelled like cotton candy and sweaty packaged ham. “You know who I am?” She clicked her fingers and the monster loosened it’s grip dropping TJ in the snow again, the cold setting in fast to his knees through the thin sweat pants.

“Juanita, we can’t stay out here, it’s gonna start soon, we need a place to hold up and report in.” The purple haired girl with the nose ring whined stepping forward in the snow in her knee high boots.

“Oh well thanks Jaclyn, you just fucked up my whole introduction” The fat girl barked back at the purpled haired girl, Jaclyn. She turned back to TJ and looked down at him and shrugged. “Guess the cats out of the bag now. I’m ‘the’ Juanita Horker. You might have heard of me. I created an algorithym on twitter that blocks shitlords from seeing any of your posts. Thus saving the internet from people with the wrong opinions.” She said. This is Jaclyn Case” She said pointing at the Purple haired girl “A blogger and tech expert.” She turned to the short haired masculine girl in the tank top under the winter coat and said “Rochelle ‘Roch’ Edwards, feminist and mma fighter”. She turned again and the black girl with orange dreadlocks. She stepped forward with her arms folded at a slanted angle like a 90’s breakfast cereal supervillain. “Blaque Kat, proud woman of colour, queer ‘af’ author and blogger.” She came forward after all the introductions were done and put her hand on the huge misshapen arm of the monster seething in front of TJ. “And you’ve already met Garylynn Smalls. Trans-activist and spokesperson for our group; Women against zombie profliferation WAZP for short.”

“Jaclyn’s right, we don’t have time for this, we’ve got a job to do.” Roch said, the veins on her neck popping up like the strings in a piano, accompanied by overly verbose hand gestures.

“Well I’m the boss of this group and I say, this fat retard has information we need on the skinny green haired bitch, ok” Juanita whined.”

“Who died and made you boss?” Kat said turning her head incredulous. “And I hate that fucking name.”

“Also ‘retard’ is really ableist Nita” Jaclyn said verbally frying all over the show gripping her laptop case to her chest.

Garlyn towered over TJ saying nothing, could it even speak? it breathed in and out seething, laboured breathes like that of a bulldog interbred to fight but not to breath correctly. It’s eyes burning like white hot coals behind the veil of blonde hair hanging mask like. The creature was wearing a custom pink jacket and a long fleural dress that did nothing to extenuate it’s boxy almost full size wardrobe shape. Two hard mounds that could have been breasts or medicine balls.

TJ couldn’t take his eyes off it. He didn’t want to move fearing he might trigger a boss fight and it might throw it’s clothes off and grow tentacles. His mind then trailing off to hentai and then a large round blimp filled up his vision and a shrill voice. A fat hand slapped him across the face and his eyes rolled in his head.

“Where is she?” Juanita croaked.

“Who?” TJ said as an instant reaction.

“Sunday, you know her, she’s here isn’t she?” She screeched.

TJ shook his head, his greasy hair shaking solid almost strawlike. “She’s dead, I saw it.” He said.

“That’s not possible” Juanita said.

“Nita, we can’t stay out here, shit is about to get too real, we stay out here, monster or not we’re gonna be in trouble.” Roch said.

“Did you just call Garylynn a monster?” Juanita bounced up her belly lagging as she moved. “I’ll have you know she’s a stunning and brave woman and you better respect her. She’s programmed to follow my orders and if I say so I’ll have her pull your arms off and fuck you with them.”

“Guys, guys, we need to work together, we can’t fall apart.” Jaclyn said.

“Fuck this Sunday bitch, she’s not why we’re here” Kat said.

Roch stepped up to TJ and squatted next to him. Her face was drawn and plain without make up, cigarrete scarred at the corner of her mouth. “He’s seen our faces and he knows our names, shit you might as well monologue our whole plan.” Roch said as she looked back at them jockeying to tear eachother apart. She turned back to TJ to look into his eyes. “We gotta kill him”.

“She’s right” Kat said looking at Juanita who scowled at her but couldn’t disagree.

“Fine fine fine! I’ll find her on my own and then we’ll settle things.” Juanita said as she walked towards TJ, smiling. “Garylynn, would you kindly tear off this fat boys head and kicked it down the street like a soccer ball?”

“YES, RIP, TEAR, KILL.” The thing responded, moving robotically, rising to it’s full height of around nine feet tall. It’s shadow engulfing TJ and Roch. Roch smiled at the monster coming and then at TJ.

“Well it’s been fun kid” Roch said as she hopped out of the way.

TJ swallowed dry, his throat felt scarred and lined with razor blades after just a minute of having his larynx massaged by the lovely Garylynn. Maybe it would be quick, quicker than someone in an isis video at least, maybe having your head ripped off by a giant monster tranny wasn’t that bad.

The monster got close enough for him to smell it’s breath, like raw meat and babyfood. It was hot almost like steam, swirling all around his head, almost pleasant. He squeezed his eyes shut and made a stupid face and at the very last moment he could hear a strange whirring whupping sound like a helicopter blade.

–

0

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…”
–

 

 

0

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?”

~

0

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.

~

0

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.

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