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GS2 Second Sunday Last Chapter ‘Un chien andelou’

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

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

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

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

Anyway fannying about here isn’t helping

See you…

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

“What?”

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

“What do you want?”

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

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

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

“Can we move this along?”

“Sorry what?”

TJ grit his teeth and said “Nothing”.

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

“let’s hear it”

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

“And then?”

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

“Ok”.

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

“Out” Evergreen said cupping the phone.

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

“Loose ends” Evergreen said.

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

“Sir?”

“It seems our towel headed friend made a move”

“You got under his skin it seems.”

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

“I hope you’re right” Evergreen said.

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

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

“Sunday?! Sunday?!” He called.

“Yeah” A little voice said to left.

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

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

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

“Er yeah.” TJ stammered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GS2 Second Sunday Chapter 25 ‘Marilyn Monroe’

Hey there,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See you…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

“Juanita Horker!” she spat.

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

“Couldn’t agree more” Rigby said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GS2 Chapter 15 ‘Fist of the White Lotus’

Another day, another morning where I feel like someone dropped a tanker truck on me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m actually following my polyphasic sleep schedule a little tighter to make more time for reading and cooking or if it’s because of my encroaching gains or both haha.

I had a protein shake this morning so I should perk up around about the time I need to do it all again haha. But results are really good, feeling good looking good. I still miss martial arts, I’d love to get back into them but I have this weird dichotomy in my head where I feel like diverting time and energy away from writing in any capacity even for a day would be a hinderance. But moreover it’s the social aspect. I find solace in the solitude of lifting weights at home. 

I just have my videos I use, I have my own weight and I just work and that’s how I like it. I miss the the catharsis of beating the shit out of people but I feel like I need the solitude and I need the space in my head. I dunno maybe it’s because the only martial arts club around is the one I grew up going to and I feel sort of like a failure, I’m almost thirty and I’m still trying to make a career out of pulling dumb stories out of my ass and working a dumb entry level job populated by teenagers and my hair is thinning haha. 

Does this qualify as a mid life crisis? I dunno, but I hope not because I sure as shit can’t afford a sports car haha.

Down to business, erm so I got another 10k out of Chrissy, my new editor and that’s what I’m doing today haha. Just gonna be proofreading and building my agent pitch with Diana. I was looking at the definition of ‘women’s fiction’ and funny enough it qualifies so that should be funny using that shitlib identity politics bullshit to try and make it appeal to cat ladies in new york haha. I mean what the fuck is ‘women’s fiction’? I mean how is that a thing?

This is where I put on my fedora and say “Why isn’t there a ‘men’s fiction”.

Then I put on my womyn respecter pink pussy hat and say “Because all fiction is male fiction bigot!”

But in all seriousness I wrote Diana without any politics in mind at all and she’s basically just me meets Dexter in pink panties haha. I just wanted to make an interesting fun story because that’s what I keep coming back to. 

Don’t get me wrong I love these deep meaningful stories like fight club but I never find myself coming back to them. I enjoy them in the moment but I would never reread something like that for fun. But every time I read Dexter I enjoy it. So that’s what I want to write, it’s what I like to write and I can still attempt those fight club style stories with my own spin, which is relevent because a podcast I was listening to recently did a bit on the deeper meaning of fight club and that’s sort of what encouraged me to start 3 ring samurai. So that stupid shit about samurai clowns is my answer to fight club haha.

I am really enjoying writing it though. 

Still hammering away at the first witcher book, I like it but it takes a concentrated effort to read it, mainly because it’s not really about anything, it’s just a bunch of unconnected stuff happening, a fantasy clip show with the only real connection being they’re stories about Geralt. So I find it hard to follow because there is no plot thread pushing me along. But it’s well written and I was reading it this morning thing “I say ‘said’ way too much” do they not have a word for ‘said’ in polish?

I can barely understand who’s talking most of the time and Geralt loves to fucking talk, he’s going for this brooding badass emo (spacing on the name of the character he’s a direct copy of) but he never shuts his fucking mouth haha. Like he has these long monologues sometimes, in fact there’s even a bit where he has this one sided conversation with a mute.

But I’m like is this what cool writers do, never use the word ‘said’ then the mini freakout bullet sweats starts, maybe I should start deleting all the ‘saids’ haha ^_^’. Just gonna ctlr+f search all ‘said’s and erase them and hope for the best haha.

Nah I’m not doing that, just gonna keep going over it and that’s what I should be doing now instead of just talking nonsense.

See you…

Fist of the White Lotus

~

“Mr Fuzzles, I can’t run anymore” Sparkles exclaimed in her cartoonish girly voice.

Fuzzles was breathing heavy, feeling like he’d been dragging her the whole time. His costume was drenched in sweat, heavy and getting heavier by the minute. The cold setting in everytime they had to stop. He looked up and down the street and saw that they looked invariably empty, they were a good block and a half away from the police station.

“Are you ok, did they get you?” He said looking back at her.

She looked at herself up and down patting herself with her hoofs and said shaking her head “I don’t think so”

“I thought I lost you, they were everywhere, they got so close, I was sure-“

“We’re ok, thanks to you, my cat in shining armor” She said giggling.

“Really?”

She nodded emphatically. Leaning over and planting a kiss on his whiskered cheek making a loud smooch kissing noise.

He clutched his paws to his chest and then his face as if he was blushing.

“What are we gonna do now, the police station was no good, where else can we go that’s safe?” She asked.

“What’s that?” Fuzzles said pointing at Sparkles foot.

“Huh?” She said as she started to twist and turn to look around herself.

“There, on your foo-hoof” He caught himself.

“Oh” She said as she peeled a brightly coloured wet pamphlet off her hoof. She opened it and started to read it like a child. “Whitefish mall, stores galore. A giant pirate themed Christmas show every hour, and the largest indoor icerink in the pacific northwest.” She opened more panels on the pamphlet.

Fuzzles sidled up next to her and started to look it over. He enthusiastically took the pamphlet off of her and said “This place is huge, it looks like a fortress.”

“It’ll be a great place to hide.” She said.

“No one would find us there and there’d be food and who knows what else.” He added.

“How do we get there?” She said.

He flipped over the pamphlet and said “There’s a map on the back.”

“Yay, let’s go.” Sparkles said as she hooked her hoof around Fuzzles arm. They started to skip in the snow in the general direction of the mall. As she turned it made visible a small tear in her costume. The tear revealed a pair of boxer shorts with hearts on them and a small bite mark below the leg opening on a hairy leg.

“You think I am born yesterday?” The Frenchman said as he tapped TJ on the head with his own severed pinky finger laughing.

TJ’s eyes fluttered and he passed out from the pain.

The Frenchman stood and scoffed looking down at TJ lying flat on the concrete floor.

He sniffed the air and then had a strange sensation at the back of his neck. The sensation spreading all the way around his head until he could feel it on his face. Cold fingers, little dainty fingers were crawling around his head like a spider’s legs. For some reason this didn’t alarm him, straight away. He didn’t feel any inherent intent and the feeling was so strange it felt almost like a dream. A wave of euphoria and disbelief swishing around in his head. The fingers were slimy and thin. When they got in his nose and mouth he sputtered and spat and turned around. Waking from his daydream to see.

A girl.

She was naked, green hair, soft pale skin. So pale it looked see through, like a permeable membrane. Bright blue veins running under the surface, small pert breasts, long sleek legs. She almost glowed like some sort of sprite or faerie. Delicate, yet boyish facial features completed the woodland nymph aesthetic. His turning abruptly off balanced her. Her legs moving like that of a newborn horse. She crumpled into a dainty pile on the floor looking like a renaissance painting. The girl was looking around the room as if she’d never seen lights before. She cowered and covered her shame with her small hands.

The Frenchman was dismayed. He coughed as if he forgot how to swallow. He still had TJ’s finger in his hand. He looked at it and laughed a little and then tossed it away wiping his hand. He jumped to her aid taking off his battered leather jacket to wrap around the young helpless girl. Stuttering red of cheek as he said “Mademoisselle, forgive me, sil vous plait”.

He draped his coat across her shoulders and patted them. He grunted as he got up to a knee. He moved around her like a squat plumber trying to get better angle on a ubend but she shyed from his glance. He took her chin in his hand and smiling said “What’s your name?”

She looked up and furrowed her brow.

He felt a strange sensation in his gut, de ja vu. Someone was walking over his grave. Her face, he looked off by the atv and saw the headless body of the woman he saw decapitated as he entered. “Impossible’” He muttered under his breathe.

The girl whispered her name “Sunday” her throat dry and raspy.

A sound came from the other side of the room. A mneumatic hiss and gears turning. The large garage doors were starting to open and light from the garage was leaking out. The door opened slow. The gap started growing bigger between it and the floor. A stage curtain lifting, revealing furry feet growing taller and taller. They were out there silently waiting, rows and rows of them thick.

BJ sat with his back to a column next to the garage door bleeding out. The control box connected to the garage door with a long thick cable in his lap. He was holding it down to open the garage doors, lying in a puddle of his own blood coughing and sputtering as it came up. Only one arm seemed usable the other was dead and drenched in blood, his lower body was caked in it but he was still alive.

“I’ll get you, you french faggot!” He cursed between bouts of bloody coughing.

“Merde” He called as he started to look for more ammo in his pockets closing the gap between BJ and himself. He saw Sunday’s bat on the floor. The garage doors were getting wider like the jaws of a giant crocodile, but slow, painfully slow.

The Frenchman stomped towards the bat catching his breathe.

BJ laughed, sputtering more and more blood as the heavy door rose. Before he could take in this small kamikaze victory he was dragged through the small gap. A furry monkey wearing a ‘I heart bananas’ t-shirt wrenched him by the head and shoulders. The garage door closing down on him. The force of the monkey and the door keeping him in place ripping him two disjointed pieces.

The Frenchman stopped in his tracks as the door slowly closed again on the twitching remains of BJ. Which was his legs and most of his lower body. He made a face like he wished he hadn’t seen that. “I must go” He said to himself.

He heard the patting of fast bare feet and he turned to see his jacket lying on the floor but no girl. He turned again and she was right there an inch from his face, her face pale and lined with veins

“BOO!” She shouted in his face, the wind of her breath knocking him back. He stumbled backwards tripping over Sunday’s bat. Slashing out of clumsy fear with his tanto knife. Cutting at her outstretched hand slicing off her fingers. She screamed and he landed at the feet of Bj’s leftovers. It was a hard fall for a man of advancing years, his large frame and weight hitting the ground like a sack of faberge eggs.

He rose to his forearms shakily, he’d landed face first in BJ’s blood and guts and it was all over him. He looked at his hands touched his face and grimaced at the smell. The disgust of being covered in the vile sticky cooling substance growing. He saw the steam rising off what could have been a portion of lower intestine and started to heave.

He rummaged around in his pants and found what he was looking for. He slipped the extra clip into his nine with a mechanical sliding clicking sound. He arose from the muck, hunched like a troll, the nine at waist height. He looked frantic, his eyes darted from corner to corner. Listening for those bare feet on the concrete floor.

He heard them and laughter and he fired into the dark garage. The sound of bullets hitting concrete with a cold slap, the jangling of car parts but no blood or cries of pain.

A building sound, whispering, talking.

“Over here” The voices said.

He fired in the direction of the sound and rounded the atv quickly to find nothing. Not even the fatboy was still there.

“Merde”.

“Over here” The voices whispered again.

He turned and marched around the car holding his gun like a detective chasing down the pink panther. The panther, just out of reach.

“I’m right here a louder voice said.” Accompanied by the sound of bare feet on metal, a bouncing balking sound of suspension.

He turned to see her, she was standing on the car, completely naked. Her hands on her hips like Peter Pan smiling cockily. She looked strange, translucent, so much so it seemed like you could see her skeleton through her skin. She looked down at him and laughed at his confused frightened eyes.

The Frenchman hesitated for a split second but his composure came back in droves. He took aim and fired hitting her right between the eyes.

The bullet landed but she remained standing on the car smiling for a another few seconds with the hole in her head. Before her expression slipped off her face and she fell lifeless onto the hood. Like a hunting trophy making a light thud.

He was confused even more now, he approached the body of the girl he shot lying lifelessly on the hood of the atv. There was no doubt it was the girl he saw before, same face, same hair, the skin was different. He turned her head and the back of it was missing, that was different. He hadn’t missed, this wasn’t a trick, he shot her in the head. She was dead, again.

But the noise of feet could be heard again. That slapping of warm feet on cold concrete, was ghostly now. His heartbeat slackened as the room was silent but for the calm shuffling of furries outside. Cushioned banging noises of padded paws clutching at nothing.

He probed the darkness with his gun like he was parting a curtain or a bed of seaweed on a coral reef. A bone white hand grabbed at his wrist in answer. It wasn’t a strong grip but it was fixed like it had sealed around his arm and he couldn’t shake it off. It stuck onto his wrist like a shark bite and it wouldn’t let go. He was taken aback, left with no choice. His mind fluttering like the pictures in a slideshow. Reaching for the tanto knife and slicing and sawing. It didn’t take more than a few seconds to cut through the supple thin skin and soft muscle tissue. The bone parted easily like it was made of still drying cement.

He pulled his arm back dropping the gore caked knife on the concrete floor. His breathing slackened off and he said “Putain!” walking around the edge of the atv. He opened the drivers side door and climbed in and shut it behind him locking the door. He checked the ignition, the keys weren’t there. He flipped down the sun-visor and there was no joy, he opened the glove box and a little light came on but no hope.

“Merde.” He sat for a second in contemplation, the silence encroaching slowly. He flicked open a folding knife and started prying the panels under the dash. Only then noticing the white hand and forearm were still firmly connected to his wrist.

He held back a scream and in a frenzy pried the hand away from his wrist. Letting it drop into the passenger footwell. There was a strange smell and an odd sucking sapping noise.

He looked into the back rearview mirror. The fatboy was lying across the backseat breathing heavily a sheen of sweat on his face. The Frenchman sat forward again and swallowed. He wiped the sweat from his brow going back to work on the exposed wires.

Then another sound, a low hissing right next to his head. The arm shot out again, latching onto his wrist but there was more. Attached was an elbow and an upperarm. Both covered in a wet slimy looking see through membranous skin.

He was frozen in the grip of a terrible unknown. The arm leveraged at his wrist for purchase. Lumbering into sight an inhuman spectacle. Attached to the arm was an unnameable thing, person shaped. A skeleton sprouting like roots right before his eyes, soft and warm and with a strange sweet smell. A blob of translucent goo taking a vaguely person-shaped form. A skull forming like decay in reverse, soft and clay like. Forming underneath the translucent bubble of plasma. Teeth and eyes and tufts of green hair.

He tried to shout, say something but the Frenchman had no air in his lungs to scream. No words that would explain this travesty of nature unfurling in front of him, right at his feet. It rose like a ghostly snot bubble between his legs, climbing his thighs, latching to his clothes.

A phrenetic fumbling for his gun ensued. His eyes not moving off the shifting, shapeless form building in his crotch region.

His hands felt weak and disjointed. The adrenaline rushing around his body rendering his muscles limp and slow like he was moving underwater. He aimed the gun in the region where he could see the brain forming in real time under the translucent skin sack.

“Psss” A hushed voice said from the backseat.

He caught his breathe and looked into the rearview mirror. A shock of green and white and a wirey arm snaked around his neck locking in place. One hand locked on the other white bicep. Her other hand behind his head pushing it down squeezing his carotid. Her head was next to his, he could hear her breathing in his ear. Smell her hair and skin, her warm cheek pressed against his stubbly greasy one.

His vision started to get spotty, his gun came up slow using the mirror for guidance. He could see her teeth, the top of her head cut off by the angle of the mirror. The gun creeping through the air as if on strings getting closer to both their heads locked together. He started to lose feeling, the thing at his legs held him still. He could only feel the weight of the gun and it coming closer, his finger twitching on the trigger. His eyelids taking him in and out, in and out, his breathe wheezing as he started to feel ethereal.

A brief flash lit up the garage, a tight popping and it went quiet again.

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?”

GS2 Chapter 9 Dreams Come True Girl

Bonjour, short and sweet is the name of the game, in and out and all that.

Been wage cucked for the last week so no content of meat was possible. I just got the wordpress app on my phone so I could only lie awake in bed writing haikus as I dreamed about … something.

But they seemed to go down quite well.

Dreams Come True Girl

“We have to keep moving Sparkles” Mr fuzzles said panting like a dog.

They were on the cold streets, it was dark and quiet, snowing calmly. The lack of noise made them feel like they were in a snowglobe, the sky an open vacuum of stars staring down with bleak ambivalence. A building cacophony of silence following them, whispers, whispers, moans, bones creaking. Squelching noises, hungry breath and padded feet crunching up the snow.

“They’re coming Mr Fuzzles, we can’t outrun them forever, we need to go somewhere, find a place we can hide.” Sparkles said, fighting for breath as Fuzzles pulled her along.

“Hmm” He said putting his paw to his purple chin.

It was dark, pitch, the streetlights waned, the moon was the only one on their side and it was known to play both sides when it was full. Figures moving slow but resolute under the glow of the orb floating in the sky, the glow from it’s teeth touching only their outlines. So many outlines and the sparkly one stood out the most, all those sequins. Leading his army of beasts, beasts of the new world. All those mascots climbing out of the murk like ghosts from a Saturday morning cartoon coming to claim the town.

Muffled screams, glass breaking, the slow roll of furry death unfurling on the sleepy town.

“I think we should go to the police Mr Fuzzles”. Sparkles whispered.

“Cut it”

The sound of bolt cutters biting on the hanging lock on the back of the building. The shaded figures pushed passed her into the building through the back.

“Put her down on the counter”

“I don’t think we can lift her”

“And what do we do with her head?”

A fat but well manicured hand flipped on the lights, they popped and croaked into life. First the kitchen, stainless steel everywhere, deep fat friars, fly buzzers buzzing in the corners. The smell of cinnamon and cold chiros.

“Why did you pick a donut shop of all places?” Roch said.

Juanita turned her head and looked her up and down and said “I don’t need to answer that.” She marched through to the front of the store. The lights were all on but blinds were tightly shut and there was a steel rolltop door protecting the glass storefront.

The donut shop was standard in a small diner feel, but tighter and more like a dispensary for a bake shop than an actual restaurant. A few stools up against outcroppings from the wall functioning as small tables. The floor space had a handful of small circular tables with tall backless chairs dotted around them. Very modern. Pictures of happy donuts on the walls.

Juanita could have found it by the smell alone but she couldn’t mistake, even in the dark, the giant metal donut sitting on the roof of the shop, beckoning her.

“Fuck this bitch is heavy” Kat said.

“Don’t body shame her, she’s a stunning and brave larger woman” Jaclyn said as she cleared a place for her on the counter. “Can you get her up here?”

Roch and Kat strained as they pressed the lifeless body of Garylynn against the counter and struggled to leverage her up onto the wide counter top. “Why are we even doing this? Her fucking head is off!” Roch screeched as she lifted one side of the giant woman, straining, her neck getting as veiny as a weighlifters stool.

Jaclyn passed them and put her laptop down on a circular table in the middle of the restaurant floor and took a seat in front of it and started taping away.

Roch and Kat got Garylynn’s body hoisted onto the counter, Kat reached down and dropped her misshapen soggy head on her chest. Roch was hot and bothered, her frustration apparent physically and mentally. Panting, she said “Jace are you hearing me, I’m talking to you.”

Jace spoke without looking up continuing to tap away at her laptop “I’m working on it, I just need to tap into the satellite and we can get some help.”

“I thought the phones were down?” Kat said leaning on the giant’s corpse.

“Phones are but we’ve got our satellite to play with.” Jaclyn smiled looking up briefly, the light of her laptop illuminating a set of adult braces.

“But he’s not here, what can he possibly do?” Roch said.

“I wont know until we get him on the line and we can do a full diagnostic”. She turned and looked at the body and squinted. “Err, can you, erm, pass me the head please?”

Roch looked at Kat and shrugged, lifting up the head with a straining noise, it was like a big medicine ball, deceptively heavy and bulky. She dropped it heavy on the small round table, looking at her hand and grimacing wiping a thick goop onto her tank top. “Gross”.

“O-k” Jace said as she pulled a cable out of her laptop and thumbed the misshapen ball of a head, moving the hair looking for something particular. “Aha” She said as she pulled back what must have been a horribly deformed ear. She plugged in the cable and sat back down in front of her laptop and started typing. The screen was blue and blank, a bar climbing that said ‘Establishing connection’ a picture of a floating satellite with a smiley face on it.

“Oh no no no, this isn’t right.” A nasally effiminite voice came out of the speakers, a feed of some dark room. A close up on a man’s head moving and then the camera being fixed in place, a close up on a man’s face. “What have you done to it?” Macintosh Lysander said as he looked down at his feed of the diagnostics report.

“Erm well” Jace said.

“Is she alright” Juanita came around the counter.

“Where were you just now?” Kat said as she pushed past her into the restaurant.

Juanita dusted icing sugar off her face and shirt and said “I was just checking we were secure”. Quickly changing subject she said “You contacted Lysander without me?”

“Well, I needed to send him th-“

“I’m the leader of this fucking team, you got it???” She said as she bounced her fat ass at Jaclyn knocking her off the high stool and taking her place in front of the laptop. “Hey Maccy darling, its me, she just had a little accident.” Her voice was sweet but then switched on a dime “It was that transphobic bigot Sunday. She cut off her head, but its no biggy right you can fix her, can’t you?”

“Nita that is a one of a kind prototype, do you have any idea the strings I had to pull to get that out of dad’s lab without him knowing?” He breathed in making that cloying sucking noise that he does. “If he finds out its missing, he’ll kill all of us. I’m not kidding.” His voice dipped in and out of the effeminate voice. He realised this paused and did that annoying clicking tutting noise reseting his voice to max effeminate swagger. “I can reboot the system from here but you need to reattach the head yourselves. I can walk you through it, but first I need an update on the mission, did you get the samples I asked for?”

“Maccy it doesn’t start til tomorrow, we’re early. We’ll get them, don’t you worry. These animist assholes wont continue their sick oppression any longer than they have to. We can put a stop to the whole fucked up Animarchy.” She said raising a fist doing a cringeworthy rosie the riveter pose.

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 darknessOnly 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.

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

GS2 Chapter 7 Happiest Girl in the World

Hey there,

Back again with more shitty news, got kicked off facebook again for a fucking filthy frank meme this time, I’ll post which one it was below. The thing is I didn’t actually direct it at anyone it was just a cover photo so what that means is that someone got so assblasted at something I said on fb about some such liberal sacred cow that nevertheless contained no objectionable speech for which they could silence me over so they instead scoured my facebook profile for any little thing they could report me on and all they could find was this one shitty filthy frank meme which is just edgy, it’s not ‘hate speech’ or whatever it’s just filthy frank, papa franku.

That or facebook actually has it in for me and is just picking through my photos trying to get rid of me and they’re making it harder and harder to create socks, it’s really fucking annoying. I just wish that some fucking body would come up with an alternative that wasn’t charging you to post content and wasn’t on this massive censorship binge. It really makes me sick that’s there’s really no way to stop this bullshit. There is nowhere as big and as user friendly as facebook where you can share your work and ideas and have freedom to say whatever you want, the place just doesn’t exist.

So that fucking sucks and they already destroyed the first two sock accounts I made and they just restricted the one I just made from posting. So they’re either tigthening up their posting regulations to stop spammers and force them to buy their reach which used to be free, now you have to pay to reach your own fucking audiences or they’re just tracking me IP amazon does.

Such fucking bullshit, anyway back to business, enough ranting.

I’ve been kind of in a funk recently, felt like I was treading water with Diana Darkly, thinking of changing the name to just ‘Darkness in Diana’. Something like that, I’ve gotta change the name. I just felt like I was in a dream and nothing really registered to me, a slog, I wanted to get to the good bit and had to wade through some of it to get to it. Which isn’t even true because there really are no slow parts of the book. It’s pretty much solid action and intrigue from the word go.

I dunno, I just felt like I was having too much fun with it and I can’t step outside myself.

Eh enough from me haha.

See you…

Happiest Girl in the world

Silence all around, and then as if out of nowhere a crunching of snow and a passing wind. A figure draped in darkness wearing a little bow peep poncho with a hood stepped onto the stage, out of the streetlamps ambivalent glare. Passing back into the darkness of the alley, blued by the moon now high in the sky beaming down. Visceral cold but white hot light like the gleaming teeth of a giant singing fee fi fo fum hungering for the blood of Englishmen.

His vision blurred and she split, she was everywhere all at once like a reflection in a funhouse mirror. His blood ran cold like the rest of him, he could feel little fingers working at the back of his neck, spiders hairy legs creeping up his spine. But then he could hear a voice he recognised and a wry smile danced on the tips of each syllable.

“Can I get that back?” The voice said.

“Huh?” Said no one in particular.

“The bat, I guess I should have said ‘mind your head’ or something” She giggled mirthlessly barely able to finish the sentence.

“Are you?-“ Juanita stuttered raising a fat digit in the direction of the hooded figure.

The hooded figure, lacking all credulity, pulled the hood down, shaking a thick shag of bright green hair in the brittle moonlight. A pixie smile and small razor sharp canines and said “Expecting a pizza?”

“It’s you! Bbb-ut you’re supposed to be dead!” Juanita stuttered.

“Yeah well, you’re supposed to be running” Sunday’s smile got wider and toothier and she tilted her head like a twilight villain.

“Nita, I think we should take her advice” Jaclyn squeaked trying to sound together.

“The fuck are we doing debating this, lets get the fuck outta here.” Kat exasperated.

“Bbbut, she’s right there.” Juanita tittered, lock jawed, her eyes fixed on her pale reflection, soaking up waves of naked of ambivalence flowing from Sunday.

“We need to regroup” Roch agreed grabbing Juanita’s flabby arm and pulling her out into the street. “We can’t fight that thing like this.”

Sunday watched them go and then turned her eye on TJ standing dumbstruck like he’d seen a ghost. She walked around him stepping over the corpse of Garylynn. “Hey aren’t you forgetting something?” She called out to the fleeing possee of angry women.

“You’re, err, whatever the fuck this thing is.” She said as she reeled back her leg like the pendelum on a grandfather clock. Applying a black army boot to the head of the felled giant like she was kicking a field goal. Lobbing it in an arched path into the street. It rolled and bounced in a macabre fashion due to it’s lumpy unorthodox dimensions, the wig getting wet and matted as it tossed up snow and black ice. It’s face frozen in a painless grimace of wordless peace.

The fleeing women watched the head of their champion roll into the gutter and then looked back frozen stuck in a miasma between fight and flight.

“Well come on, you gonna pick this shit up or aren’t you?” Sunday waggled her head mockingly, putting her hands on her hips under her poncho.

They looked at eachother without words, only animalistic nods and grunts. They slowly approached the downed giant dipping their heads. Each grabbing an oversized limb and dragging it out into the street, and around the corner out of sight. Only Jaclyn popping around the corner to pick the head up out of the gutter. First trying with her finger and thumb by the hair but the head was enormous and as heavy as it looked so when that didn’t work. Feeling the urgency of Sunday watching her she balled the head up hiking it up onto her hips hugging the dirty head close to her and waddling out of sight.

Sunday tutted and laughed, turning back to TJ who stared mouth gaped. She cocked her jaw to the side and tipped her head back. “You mind?”

“Huh?” TJ gawped.

She tossed her eyes up and blew a quaff of toxic green hair out of her face.

He turned to look where she indicated seeing the bat still lodged deep in the wall.

“Oh yeah, you want me to-?” He said pointing awkawdly at the stucco wall.

“Uh huh” She said.

“It’s kinda high up there, I mean” He stuttered.

“Just gimme a leg up there stud” She sighed.

“Oh sure”. He said as flattened against the wall, then leaning forward and cupping his hand. She stepped into his hands steadying herself. She straightened putting her weight on the bat handle and jerking it loose with a sword in the stone satisfying chipping crumbling noise.

She got down and TJ stood up dusting himself off “I crown you the new king of England” He said nervously.

“What?” She squinted.

“Err nothing” He said.

“Well” She said and shrugged “See ya” She turned to walk away.

TJ ran after her “Wait, how did you-? When did you-?”

Sunday turned looking at him, her eyebrows brought together. “Sorry, do I know you?”

TJ’s heart sank, his mind reeled, he felt like he could taste sick of some strange food he didn’t remember eating in his mouth. Did he know this girl? Was this the same Sunday? Did his Sunday ever exist?

Just as his mind was regressing, losing all grip on reality, attributing everything to a sad dream he had. She layed her hand on his shoulder and shook her head smiling “TJ, I was fucking with you”

“What?” He swallowed.

“I remember everything, it’s me, Sunday.” She smiled, some of the ice chipping off, melting becoming warm but still guarded.

“But I saw, I saw you die” he said, his voice rising at the end like it was a question.

“Yeah and it hurt like hell but look for yourself.” She lifted her poncho and her white cotton shirt underneath to show him her milky white belly. There wasn’t a mark. “See not even a scar, the doctors they have in that facility are straight out of star trek or some shit” She laughed and dropped her shirt.

TJ felt his blood pressure rising. “I think I peed myself” He said almost to himself.

“Gross dude” She took his hand and scrunching up her nose looking at his wet sweatpants. “Come on, we’ll get you someplace warm and get you something to eat and we can talk.”

“Oh there you are, I was wondering where you got to. I tried to go back into the store but the door was locked. They’re closed early I guess, heard some weird noises or something. What did I miss?” Jimmy was standing on the street in front of the alley eating an icecream. “Who the hell is this?” he said motioning to Sunday.

“Jimmy where the hell have you been man?” TJ said airing his wet crotch.

“I was just getting ice cream, you want some?” He said holding out the well licked scoop “Did you pee yourself?” He said reaching out as if to poke the wet patch.

TJ pulled back instinctively and tried desperately to change the subject. “Nevermind about that, I spoke to the guy, he said there’s a diner around the corner he wants us to go to for the next call. ‘Reverse cowgirl coffee’ or something.”

“’Cowgirl coffee’ I passed it on the way back.” Jimmy said licking an icecream cone.

“Why are you eating icecream, it’s like really cold out here” Sunday said watching Jimmy licking at the cold goop.

“I like icecream” He said without a hint of credulity in his voice.

“The guy?” Sunday said.

“You know your backer guy, he’s backing me and Jimmy, he said he could help us, don’t you talk to this guy all the time?” TJ asked.

“No, he’s never spoken to me once, I didn’t even know that was allowed, first for me” She said tossing the bat over her shoulder.

“Woah, who is this chick man? What the fuck is that, thing, where did you get that?”

“Oh this” She said motioning to the bat “I made it in the autoshop across town, cool huh?” She said as she bounced the violent piece of metal on her shoulder playfully. “So what did you guys pick up?”

TJ rooted around in his pockets and took out the crappy pen knife.

“Is that it?” She said.

“Blame that asshole, he spent all our money.” TJ said tossing an accusatory look at Jimmy.

“I didn’t spend all of it” He said licking at the icecream. “Stores closed now anyway, we’ll just come back tomorrow.”

“There won’t be a tomorrow Jimmy, don’t you get it? Didn’t Dp explain any of this to you?”

“Explain what?”He said licking the icecream casually.

“Dp?” Sunday said.

“You know zombies, ring a bell? Stores don’t stay open in the zombie apocalypse dumbass!”

“Don’t you go calling me a dumbass, if there are zombies all over the place we can just come here tomorrow and take whatever we want. That’s how that works.” Jimmy said nibbling at the cone of the icecream.

“Where did you find this guy?” Sunday asked.

TJ sighed and said “Let’s just get to the diner and maybe I can get a change of underwear or something.”

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.

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