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samurai champloo

3 ring samurai part 3 chapter 7 ‘They’re all the same’

Wtf is this content???? Original content holy lord jesus gtfo with this nonsense!!

Took a while and its probably gonna be the last for a long eternity because I’m kinda spent creatively right now, but I have time considering that new job is yet to start and it could be fucking months until it does. Still pissed about that, who the fuck offers someone a job when they aren’t sure it even exists??? I did two interviews for this job and filled in a shit tonn of paper work only for them to come back and be like “Well we had some internal hires so we don’t need that position filled right now”. Well it would’ve been good to know that before applying for the job, or can I even get a different job, no I have to wait for this one to be vacant which could be months.

But I don’t know what I should do, should I wait or just apply somewhere else. It probably would be in my best interest to wait because I have a foothold already in this company because I knew someone that worked there and I’ve already put in so much time and effort trying to get it. And not to mention my old job is about to hit the christmas shitstorm which is really profitable (but miserable) for me.

So I was thinking I might start doing Diana part 2 just because I’ve run out of fucks and I think it might be more fun and grounded to write and it gives me an excuse to get back into rereading Dexter instead of these mediocre shadow pulps. It depends on how I’m feeling next week but I have time, so I might as well. Just can’t take this infernal fucking waiting. It’s like the next stage of my life, the best chapter is right over the hill but I have to wait, but it feels like I’ve been waiting my whole life already. And on the otherside my little girl might be waiting further off in the distance, way off somewhere, but I’ll be with her eventually I know it.

I was actually about to write a review for Outer Worlds and shit all over it just because it’s so hot right now haha. I got gamepass so I could play it cheap and I’m quite far into it and not really feeling it honestly, it’s more borderlands than fallout imo. Not to say it’s bad, it’s ok, it just could’ve been so much better and it feels a little safe or just meh. Don’t wanna spoil my review but I was playing it last night and decided to drop it and play red dead redemption instead haha. That’s the first one not the shitty prequel, the one that’s actually fun and interesting and not a boring 30hr horse simulator. I forgot how good it was, classic rockstar at its best is a force to be reckoned with honestly which is why rdr2 hurt so much. Basically I want to give my Outer Worlds review a little more time, just to give a fair shake, I was gonna write it before I completed it but I might do a Prey 2006 review instead and give Outer Worlds a chance to redeem itself.

Anyway short and sweet, this is the end of the Swammy Karl/Riki kung fu tranny arc but it might not be the end of this part because originally this was supposed to be about the gunsmith character but I sort of got carried away with the mimes and stuff and he got squeezed out haha. This segment was supposed to be an interesting seque into that story but it just took over the whole part with the power of self indulgence haha. So it’s not finished, I’ll come back to it at some point – Ryk 2019

Right now, gonna start something else haha.

See you…
 
“What are you doing?”
 
Pookie looked up as he lay prone covered in mud and probably chicken shit and feathers.
 
“Trying to catch, that beast, I guess” Pookie sputtered.
 
Jersey was perched high on the rafters of the barn out of sight talking up as if to herself. Her slight but confident voice echoing through the large richety structure. “What for?”
 
“Training?”
 
“Training? Training for what?”
 
“…”
 
She sighed and said “I see” She said nothing for a moment as Pookie looked up at her leg dangling from the rafters. “What do you want? An apology.”
 
Pookie snorted “What for?”
 
“For trying to kill you”
 
“You were trying to protect him right?”
 
“Yeah.”
 
“Do you love him?”
 
She said nothing for a moment, seeming to freeze, as if the words sent electricity through her whole body. She sighed, releasing the tension in a long breath and spoke softly as if to no one in particular. “Have you ever met someone that didn’t want anything from?”
 
“Can’t say I have, but I don’t get out much.”
 
“A person that would do anything for anyone and not ask for anything in return?”
 
“No” Pookie said thoughtfully.
 
“He’s an idiot, people like him don’t last long in this world.”
 
“He seems like he can take care of himself.”
 
“You think so?” She laughed. “He’s not like us, not like you” She looked straight ahead as if trying to see a face in the wood grain. “He can’t kill, it’s not in his nature, he’ll always be the frog and we’ll always be scorpions.”
 
“I’m not sure I get that reference.” Pookie snorted.
 
“I’d die to protect him, I’d kill, because there needs to be more people like him in this world, or it won’t survive, can’t survive. It wouldn’t be worth surviving in at all without people like him!”
 
“Trannies?”
 
“No not, what!? Forget it, you wouldn’t understand, you’ll just keep chasing chickens until someone faster than you ends up killing you. There are a million guys like you in this world, you really think you’re that special?”
 
Pookie didn’t say anything, but for a moment his face gave Jersey a window, a glimpse of that lonely orphan boy and she knew she’d said too much, been too flippant.
 
She sighed “Sorry, I can be a real bitch sometimes” Her voice softened. “The trick to catching chickens is… you have to predict their movements, you can’t just reach out and grab them or they’ll flutter away. You have to move with them and follow their path or they’ll just get away from you.”
 
“Thanks”.
 
 
“Here’s your… thing!” Pookie said as he dropped the chicken on the crude wooden kitchen table in front of Riki and Brandon.
 
“What?” Riki asked quizzically.
 
“You told me to chase chickens… as part of my training.”
 
“I don’t remember telling you to do that.”
 
“Huh?”
 
“I asked you to get eggs for breakfast and then you disappeared for an hour.”
 
 
As the sun was setting the fires had died. The gnoxious billowing smoke from the tents had turned into a light aery mist that hung over their crumpled deformed shape.
 
“What happened here?”
 
“You don’t know?” Pookie asked the strangely dressed man.
 
“Not a clue” the swammy said incredulous as he looked over the mounds of smoldering plastic and fabric.
 
“Ha, I guess it was just a coincidence” Pookie chuckled to himself.
 
The swammy turned to face the clown samurai. “How did you know I’d come here?”
 
“You said so.”
 
“I don’t think I did” The swammy said.
 
“Oh, you sure about that?”
 
“Quite sure.”
 
“Well for the sake of plot convenience lets pretend you did.”
 
The swammy gave an odd sidewards glance at the clown and said. “You’re not the one I expected to meet.”
 
“Yeah well, can’t always get what you want.”
 
“Well, I can’t disagree with you there.” The swammy laughed a little sadly. “I wanted to be known for my skill, I travelled all over this godforsaken land to learn and bring them something they’d never seen before. But no one understands, I wanted respect, wonder, not fear. I thought joining the circus would change that but it’s the same, no it’s worse. The circus is run on fear and misery, I wont go back, you wont make me and neither will those damn mimes.”
 
“I’m not here for that” Pookie said as he readjusted his sword.
 
“I see, so you’ve come here to die.”
 
 
“For the boy that can’t smile, for the clown that cannot laugh.” The old man said as he stretched out his open hands, resting in them a strange and colourful sword.
 
The boy took it in both hands without a word. His face rich in the colours of their order, bright and shining. The smile painted over the stolid face of despair.
 
The boy opened it with a stiff jerk, as if breaking a seal, it pulled away like it was stuck. A horrible canned mocking laughter was released like a poisonous gas that sent chills up the boys spine.
 
The old man smiled and said “Cool huh?”
 
The kid studied the sword sceptically looking at the gawdy leds that made up the eyes of the devil face on the pommel but still he said nothing. The look on his face a mix of wonder and complete whatthefuckism.
 
“This sword will smile for you, it’s blade will laugh for you and if you point the devil at your enemy and pull this it might just save you from the brink of death.” The old man said as he flicked the mystery draw string tucked into the handle.
 
The boy instantly reached for the pully. The old man smacked his hand away.
 
“Not now, and not ever” He said sternly. “The other will make the sword laugh, that one you must master, it’s sound will bring joy and strike fear in the hearts of many.”
 
If you like this sort of total nonsense head on over to inkitt.

3 ring samurai part 3 chapter 6 ‘The carnival is over’

Henlo people, long time no… not see, hear? Read?

Regardless, irregardless? Gardless?

Ok whatever, the content drought is still upon me, no movie reviews because my brother is on another of his ridiculous adventures and still have writers block so the writing is slow as fuck but huzzah there is content today, hard fought content.
That’s not to say I haven’t been busy, quite the contrary, I’m lifting ten times heavier haha. Almost finished watch all of farscape which is pretty good, finished my last shadow book and straight into the next one which seems to have a pretty interesting villain and I keep spilling promix on myself haha.
But in other news I got an interview for a new job which I think I either aced or did so badly they want another interview. The first one was just a weird live recorded one, but I have one tomorrow that’s live. But get this, I get a phone call from the person who’s meant to be interviewing me tomorrow and she says there’s no current opening in the job I applied for. 
Colour me surprised since I didn’t actually apply for a job I just sent in my cv and cover letter and they suggested a job for me to apply to which I did. Why the fuck would you offer me a job that didn’t have openings? I mean wtf is that? I feel like I’m taking crazy pills. I got off the phone with her and I almost broke into tears because here’s me thinking I have this perfect job lined up and this person asks me if I still want to interview for a job I can’t have. So I dunno, I’m gonna do the interview and ask them how long I might have to wait because who knows it could just be until after christmas or something. But if it’s longer than that I’m gonna tell them I’ll keep looking for jobs because that’s fucking clownworld shit.
I really wanted this job, in case I didn’t put it on here, I’m applying to work on a cruise ship because I think it’s perfect for me, travel, meet new people, live rent free, bill free, free food, no commutes. I genuinely hate driving, I can drive but I try to avoid it as much as possible because it stresses me out. It sounds silly but it’s how my father died and I don’t so much fear death as much as I fear making a mistake at all. I know some people find driving relaxing, I am not one of them. I find taking the train with a good book relaxing.
I just so upset when I got off the phone, because, I mean the whole reason I’m doing this is so I can make enough money to be with her, to be close to her, even if it’s just the two months on a six months on, two months off contract. And this is just more time I have to wait until I can hold her again.
I lie to myself, my autism flares up and tells me I can’t do it because x,y and z, I need my personal space, I hate people, I wont have time to workout, I’ll get fat etc. So I’ve bribed the autism side of my brain telling it that I’ll buy it a nintendo switch lite to play in the cabin and that seems to shut it up and make it forget about how hard it’ll undoubtedly be working six months seven days a week and sharing a room with a stranger.
But mainly it’s to anaesthetise that voice in my head that reminds me how empty I am without her, how lonely I am, how much I miss her. How nothing else matters. Because every time I think about that I can feel myself breaking down, even now as I type this I feel nails scratching away at the surface. My carefully crafted armor cracking like an eggshell.
It’s why I’ve been reluctant to write poetry recently, instead I’ve just been rehashing pop songs. Because I’m afraid if I dig too deep and use my real emotions it might just start a flood I can’t dam up. And it gets worse day by day and who knows how long I have to wait now. You’d think it’d drive me to even deeper more effective work, but it’s just too much to bare. It’s easier to just shut it off. But I don’t know how long I can do that. All I have is dreaming of a better outcome but at every turn it seems to go wrong somehow. I mean here I find a job that’s perfect for me and it looks like I’m about to get it but no, I’ve stepped on a rake and it the handle hits me in the face.
Fuck me right?
Canard felt the blood pooling in his brain and it felt like his head were an expanding balloon that was about to pop. The wire tightened around his neck, arm and leg. He was yanked in three directions, they meant to pull him apart like soft bread or a really fucked up pinate.
With his free hand and the last of his strength he pulled on the wire around his neck. Yanking the mime with the shaved head forward and off balance. The mime allowed a small smirk to creep across his face as he stumbled and leapt forward.
Canard dragged him forward with all his might and with a last desperate effort with the only blood left in his stump. He flicked his hidden blade in his peg leg open and cut the bald mime’s arm clean off. The smile didn’t move even as his own blood spattered on his still white face.
Canard had just enough time to cut the wire around his arm before he was pulled off his feet by the wire still wrapped tightly around his good leg.
He bumped his head a little and it felt like falling in a dream. He blacked out for a split second and then allowing for the rush of blood back into his brain. The oxygen back into his lungs he was awake again digging his heel in the dirt.
The fucker was dragging him, reeling him in like a fish on a hook. The one with his arm off calmly picked up his other arm up, maybe he wanted to see if he could reattach it with a little glue and tape.
Canard instinctively shot a glance up and behind the one that had hold of his weapon arm was advancing from behind now. He had to act fast or he was fucked.
He dug the pointy end of his spear in the dirt to try and slow him down. Then he got a cute idea and tossed some dry dirt up into the air that looked like an old man farting dust. Hardly the smokescreen or the mud in his eye that he wanted.
“Fuck it!” Canard spat as he angled his spear like a harpoon and lobbed it at the mime dragging him.
The mime dropped the line turning instantly to catch the spear out of the air.
Canard cursed under his breath as he quickly slipped his foot free of the wire “Shit, that worked last time” He could feel the one behind him closing.
Suddenly he felt like a crab on his back and rose up like a spider and did a fancy break dance spin. Trying to do his best impression of a blender and maybe take out the fucker behind him.
The one behind was too fast and nimble and had seen the blade coming from a mile off and summersaulted clear over the bladed spinning top.
The three were together now, the bald one with one arm on the right still smirking holding his other arm like a club. The one with his spear and the other one on the left. They paused for a moment allowing Canard to see how fucked he was.
Canard stood up and dusted himself off, he glanced over at them and sighed a little “Well, what are you waiting for?” He said as he held his arms out welcoming them to kill him. Hobbled slightly to one side as the knife on his peg leg elevated one side like a high heel shoe.
The mime with Canard’s weapon was eager, emboldened by his new toy.
Canard pointed at him and made a stupid face.
Pookie drove his blade up and under the mime’s jaw and pushed it all the way until he heard a scraping cracking sound. The mime’s spiked club fell in a stunted arc and scratched Pookie’s cheek as it fell from the mime’s limp lifeless arm.
“Over here!” He heard a familiar voice calling him.
In a cloud of brown and orange dust Riki’s little buggy skidded into view on what was left of the road. Riki leaned out and signalled Pookie. Pookie hiked Jersey up higher on his shoulder and cast a glance back at Efron and the dog and then over at Canard.
The mime with Canard’s spear lunged at him in a full speed dash with every intention of turning Canard into a one legged duck kebab.
But to Canard that was the most obvious way to attack, the acrobat pirouetted effortlessly to one side. Letting his spear to pass and grabbing it in both hands along the shaft. In one fluid motion he stepped on the mime’s chest and rolled him backwards. Making good and sure the mime’s body weight sunk his peg leg blade deep into his liver rolling back and launching the soon to be dead prick up in the air.
He landed on his back flopping like a fish out of water before some sensory mechanism kicked in. He flipped back to his feet dropping half a quart of black blood on the sand.
“Ya know it’d be really great if you guys could stay down.” Canard spat through the hard slit that had become his mouth.
The mime who had his spear moved mechanically, as if all sense had left him and only a husk bent on primal slaughter remained. He lunged towards Canards back, the acrobat leaned on his spear giving an exasperated sigh as he heard the mime’s feet scraping the sand towards him.
Canard turned his upper body in one fluid motion and drove the spear over his shoulder piercing through the mime’s skull. The shaft moving so fast it shot in and out like a piston. The mime stood swaying the last one to get the message that he was dead.
Canard drove the point home as he drew the blade up in an arching slash across his chest. The strike splitting him from gut to sternum, he fell almost in two pieces into the loose earth.
“Hey are you done fucking around over there?” Pookie shouted.
Canard turned to look over his shoulder at the two remaining mimes who stood like they were carved out of terracotta.
“Yeah I’m done” He said as he edged an imaginary line. Never taking his eyes off the two that remained as he hopped his way over to Pookie’s voice and the rest of the gang in the makeshift mystery machine.
Likewise the two mimes eyeballed him so hard his balls started to hurt a little bit like when you sit on them wrong.
He broke away from them at a loose dash and looked back and saw them standing there, not following. The night sky behind them orange and backlit by the fires and the rising smoke. Looking like some funhouse smoke machine, the lights just leds flashing. The mimes watched them go and then vanished into the smoke.
He got to the car as Pookie was loading the girl into the back. Efron and the dog were already sitting comfortably like they’d been waiting there the whole time.
“Hey get in” A familiar but odd voice said.
“What the hell’s he doing here?” Canard asked as he gawped at the weird fumer kid Brandon sitting in the drivers seat.
“We’ll talk about that later, wait is that, Jersey? What’s with that shit on her face?” Riki asked as Pookie bundled her into the back.
“We’ll talk about it later” Pookie said. “Drive.”
If you want to read the rest of this total garbage head on over to inkitt.

3 ring samurai part 3 chapter 5 ‘Pretty girl’

Yo bonjourno,
In a lot better mood recently because I have plans now, a new job in the works which I haven’t applied for but I got a guy on the inside so I’m sure to get it, although I’m not 100% sure I actually want it haha. It could be hell or it could be great, either way it’s gonna rob me of about six months of my life and if I decide to go back that’s my own decision, I’m obviously hoping I’ll love it and want to do it for a few years, I don’t see it as a lifelong thing because that would doom me to an eternity without any sort of family whatsoever and that would probably sound perfect to a lot of people but not me.
Specifically because I need this job to raise enough money to see the most important person to me on this earth. I’m hoping I can use the money to eventually buy a place where she lives and see where things go from there, but that’s probably a long way off. But it’s something and it’s more than I had yesterday. It’s gonna be hard work but I hope I can find purpose in it and look past it at my goals when it gets tough. 
I know I need to do this or something anything or I’ll lose my mind, the worse thing I can do is what I’ve already been doing which is nothing. It goes without saying it’s probably an end to blogging and writing for some time but this isn’t exactly going well anyway and leaving no audience behind isn’t that hard and shouldn’t be that hard to find again. 
I want to talk to her and tell her my plans but I’m afraid that I might chicken out and just slip back into despair, I’m afraid most of all of myself and my ability to just bottle it. 
I was thinking about when I was working abroad in france and how I totally checked out of that. But that was totally different to this, that was in the gaming industry which if you’ve worked in that industry you’ll know how full of shit it is. Plus I’ll actually be getting paid and everyone will speak english, probably. I basically had to get another job I had no time or the language skills to do or punch out and I chose to punch out because I couldn’t afford to stay and the job was total garbage for no money. 
It was an internship but I was supposed to have funding for it but it didn’t come through so I was working infinity hours at a job that sucked only to be bleeding money everyday just to survive. This going to be different and really exciting. I hope it works out.
As for content, I have it, sorta, yeah I do, pretty much these next few chapters are one elongated fight scene with mime ninjas, I know right, what other slice of the internet would you get epic battles between clown samurais and mime ninjas? Just what everyone in this age of infinite cape shit get excited for next cape shit needed.
Haven’t really been doing much else except writing and trying to like the shadow, I really really want to like the shadow but I read like a page and I can’t keep my eyes open. Doesn’t help that I read at night and I’ve been lifting really heavy recently so sleep falls on me like a tonne of bricks right now. But I .know when I’m reading something good when I can’t wait to read it and I want to stay up all night reading it.
Which is how I felt with the first conan story before I started reading the rest and got really bored with them. Still I wanna start reading the solomon kane stories next, also Elric because that’s apparently what the witcher is ripped off from and it can’t be much worse than that garbage.
Anyway, got shit to do, so see you…
Within a soundless second knives were hurled wildly in all directions. Ghostly white hands throwing them out and sometimes not. Half the hand movements seemed only to be mischievious imitations, feints. Feigning a knife thrown when in fact nothing but air was moved and no sound was made.
Canard stumbled stumbled backward sweeping his staff deftly. Moving knives out of his way like a cars windscreen wiper moving drops of rain. He paused to look down as he heard a mocking twanging sound as he saw one of the blades stuck into his peg leg. “Great” he sighed.
Pookie rolled without drawing his sword. The small thin blades arcing following his trajectory and flowing over his shoulder and head. They pierced the tent wall leaving pin pricks of orange glowing light probing into the dusty murk of the tent.
Before they could catch their breath and counter there was another distinct set of stealth ripping and lashing sounds. In moments there was a new perfectly rectangular door in the side of the tent. A pause later; knives were entering without warning in the same slap dash pattern.
Canard cursed as he span his polearm trying to deflect the flurry of knives aimed directly at him. A few of them slipped passed taking some skin off his arms as they flew by.
“Fucker!” He cried as his swept polearm around like a javelin and in anger launched it through the new gap in the tent. “How you like that?!”
The other assailant still hidden in the falling dust and murk was focusing all their attention on Pookie. From them came an unrelenting torrent of knives and possibly other kitchen implements. Leaving no room for a counter attack at all, there was no pause in the assault. He couldn’t even draw his sword without a knife aimed directly at his thumb. Pookie ducked down pulling his cot onto it’s side as makeshift cover.
He waited there for a second listening to the steady drum beat of knives embedding into the paper thin mattress.
Canard’s staff came walking through the doorway sticking out of the chest of a tall thin man wearing all black with a hood. His face painted ghostly white spattered red with the blood running from his lips. A knife clutched in his hand as he staggered forward his mouth agape with no sounds escaping his petrified face.
He stumbled into the room, his eyes wide and full of a muted hatred. He lurched forward throwing his last knife at Canards head before sagging his shoulders forward.
Canard awkwardly rolled forward on his one leg, his peg clattering on the earthen floor. Springing on his forward hand he swept the leg of the killer forcing him forward onto his staff.
The staff point poking out of his back like the tip of a lollipop someone bit off. The wooden staff bracing him against the ground like a kickstand as he flailed for more knives to throw.
Canard rolled to his feet and kicked his stack flipping the mime onto his back. He gripped the end of his staff ratcheting it as he tried to free it from the half dead mime writhing on the ground. The mime’s eyes still had a dim light in them and finding another sharp shank to poke with he stabbed at Canard’s good leg.
The acrobat shifted his weight quickly onto his peg and pirouetted away from the attack “Would you die already!?” He screamed as he turned about stamping his good foot on the mime’s knife hand. The mime grimacing in a silent scream revealing a stump where his tongue used to be between his blackened teeth.
Pookie sat behind his low cover waiting for the little thuds to stop rattling the cot, gap in the attack so he could act. They had to run out of things to throw eventually, but there was no way of knowing how many knives they actually had.
There, a brief pause in the angry rhythmic thuddings, Pookie waited for another gap, trying to see if there was a pattern. Two knives, then a pause, then three knives, they must be trying to preserve their ammo, which means they’re running low. Then one knife followed by a pause then two more.
Then it stopped ominously.
Pookie had his blade sheathed sitting next to him as he listened to silence. There wasn’t a sound, not even a breath.
Pookie looked over at the stupid grinning face on the butt of his sword and hatched a stupid idea. He didn’t really have enough room to draw his sword cramped up against the wall of the tent and the mattress. Which is fine because if he could he might’ve been tempted to just hop over the cover and charge headlong into the unknown. Which seemed to be working for him up until now. But without knowing the position of his attacker he could be royally fucked with a spork between his shoulder blades.
Holding onto the scabbard he poked the handle with the silly face over the top of the mattress. Predictably followed by a light thunk. He quickly pulled it back and plucked a literal sharpened spork out of the handle of his sword.
“Gotcha now” He smirked to himself.
He positioned himself low and listened “Fuck it.” He cursed under his breath as he gripped the lacquered sheath of his sword in one hand and the ring pull mechanism in the other. Holding it in front of him like he was holding onto the pin of a grenade.
“Gotta do this fast” He said to himself.
In one fluid motion he lifted his sword above his head and over the cover pointing that ridiculous smiling face in the direction the knife came from. He yanked the cord hard like he thought a parachute or a cannonball might shoot out or a thousand lawnmowers might start up with a jolt.
The sword flew through the air like a missile carried on the wings of the tinny laughter coming from the smiling devil face mocking life and death.
Using his staff still poking out of the mime’s chest as leverage Canard thrust his peg leg through the mime’s eye socket. A guttural squelching crunching sound as the leg widened out crushing and piercing the soft eye, cracking the skull. The dull emotionless face of the mime still staring up at him without uttering a sound.
Pookie listened and he heard a hard thud and a clash and clatter like someone tripped and pulled out a whole cutlery draw. Cautiously he poked his head over the mattress and saw the soles of shoes staring back at him. As the dust started to settle a toppled figure lying on the ground like a puddle of spilt milk appeared.
Pookie circled around the mattress and dragged his naked sword off the earthen floor. He looked down at the figure dressed in black, a mat of long hair covering their face.
“Die die die!” Canard cried as he stomped his peg leg repeatedly into the frozen ghostlike face of the mime. Blood and brains and shards of bone bursting up at him with each stomp until little remained except the hood and a few clumps of sodden hair and teeth.
“Would you stop fucking around?” Pookie said.
“What’s up?” Canard replied.
I think we fucked up.”
“You don’t say.” Canard said as he limped over shaking a piece of scalp off his peg leg, some visible teeth embedded into the gnawed and splintered wood.
Pookie stood as he slid the sheath of his sword back into his pants. He pointed his sword at the face of the mime who tried to kill him. Using the pointy end of the sword he turned their face over.
“Well fuck me” Canard said.
“Jersey” Pookie said as he sheathed his sword.
Read the rest of this shit over on inkitt.

3 ring samurai part 3 Chapter 4 ‘Liquid swords’

Omg some actual OC, that’s original content, not original character, this isn’t a sonic forum for you to personify your mental illness into some weird hedgehog or something.
You better appreciate this absolute load of garbage because it took me much longer than it should have to write haha,
Been pretty busy recently but I think I found a new job, not as much of a step up as I wanted from my old job but I was put in a position where my options were to serve in heaven or become middle management in hell and I chose the former. So when I get this new job I’ll actually be out of the country most of the time and probably wont have time to waste on this stupid bullshit so the content apocalypse is coming. 
I may get the odd blog out just to justify the exorbitant fees I pay to have my very own website. But I’m gonna be working pretty solidly, should be making pretty good money, meeting new people, seeing new places, probably do a lot of reading or more likley drinking and playing nintendo switch games.
Think I wanna save to buy myself a house in barbados I probably wont live in most of the year for tax and visa reasons haha. Ya gotta have a dream and that’s the one I’m going with right now and it’s much more doable than all my other dreams haha.
Not 100% that I have the job but I know a guy who I work with now who said he’d put a good word in for me, he used to work at the place I’m applying to now. So we can see if that old adage is worth it’s shit.
Talking about reading I finished that peak Parker book and it was pretty good, not sure if I mentioned this already but it had the classic Parker B plot where it’s the anal set up followed by mopping up the mess of where it goes wrong because no job is perfect and if it was it would be boring to read.
This one in all honesty went a little too perfect, the stakes didn’t really seem high enough and the job basically went perfectly and the after part where it started to fuck up went almost comically perfectly.
Because basically what happens at the end is a comedy of errors akin to the three stooges where all the people trying to fuck over Parker end up killing eachother before he even shows up leaving only one a real threat to end the book on.
It just ended a little too neat, things just fell into place a little too perfectly, one party opposed to Parker killed the other, the reporter giving them trouble was neatly packed away never to be seen again, none of the crew were new so none of them turned on Parker. The guy who set the job up turned out to be nuts but then quickly killed himself then there was just one guy Parker had to kill and it was wrapped up.
With these books it’s the constant balance of realism and entertainment and I think it was a bit wonky here but altogether thoroughly entertaining book, I really like how much effort he puts into even side characters that are only important for small stretches of time but he gives you a good feel of them.
Now I decided to get back into the shadow which is proving to be a mistake so far, I’m reading the one that’s supposed to be one of the best but it’s so fucking slow already and are we supposed to not know exactly when the shadow is pretending to be someone else because it couldn’t be more obvious. The guy with the masklike face who doesn’t say much is obviously the shadow, how hard is this to grasp? It’s annoying now and the action is kinda bleh, its just kinda safe honestly, it’s not edgy enough and I’m gonna be so bummed after I finish the Parker books. I really need a recommendation of some chad crime fiction, I need another Dexter or Parker.
Anyway enough chit chatting got shit to do.
See you…
 
“That sound again”
 
There was only silence and darkness shifting like the curtains of an unlit stage. The sounds were a dull metronome blending into the ultimate silence rising slowly.
 
“Like a fucking trumpet from hell or something”
 
Through the darkness grey shapes gradually undulated in the mist. Huge figures with grey mottled flesh like a corpse, long noses and huge ears.
 
“What are you called? Hephalumps or something? I saw you in a book, I think. I thought you were all gone.”
 
More and more appeared out of the darkness, their eyes empty, only silence as they moved, all looking at Pookie.
 
“Wait didn’t we do this before? I guess the writer forgot this was supposed to be a recurring theme or something. It beats flashbacks I guess.”
 
“Are you having another flashback” The head elephant said.
 
“I said are you having another-“ Riki said, his voice pulling Pookie back into reality.
 
Just a dream” Pookie said with his eyes closed “Completely unrelated.”
 
Riki nodded like that made sense, he paused and breathed out as he perched on the edge of Pookie’s cot. “That technique he used, it’s ancient, from the old old world, called the ‘spirit blade’.”
 
Pookie looked down at himself as he lay, doing an inventory. “That’s a cool name, how did you hear about it?”
 
Riki grinned “I’m just fucking with you, I just thought it sounded cool” He turned with a shit eating grin.
 
Pookie grimaced as he rose off his back into a sitting position. He felt stiff all over, he was lying in a bed in a tent he’d never seen before. his shirt off, he looked down at his hands, they were bandaged delicately, by a woman’s hand.
 
“He said he could read my mind” Pookie said queerly.
 
Probably bullshit just to scare you.” Riki shook his head.
 
“…” Pookie just looked at his hands and thought about that, squeezing them lightly.
 
“If that was the case he’d be unbeatable, he’d see all your moves before you made them, you’d have to use something no one had ever seen before, even you.”
 
There was a moment he sat in silence contemplating his palms.
 
“So are you really dying or did you just want to see him use that weird shit on me first?” Pookie asked.
 
Riki smiled sadly with one side of his mouth.
 
“I see” Pookie sighed.
 
“But what do you care, you just met me.” He said laughing.
 
“She did this, that girl Jersey?” Pookie said more as a statement than a question.
 
“Yeah how did you know”
 
“I don’t know, I just had a feeling”
 
Riki laughed and got up from his stool “Well you keep acting all cool like that and she might just fuck you”.
 
Pookie sighed irritable and laid back down.
 
Riki just let out a little breathy laugh and started to leave.
 
“You think you can beat him?” Pookie asked Riki’s back.
 
Maybe.” he sighed and said “But maybe I won’t have to.” He smiled looking up at the sky, the sun bleaching out his face and forcing him to close his eyes like a kid getting his photograph taken.
 
 
As the sun set the heavy flap of a tent a whole wasteland away was opened and closed noiselessly, inside a single candle burned.
 
The figure that entered walked over to the candle light, stopping just short of it so the light only licked the tips of his toes. Then without words he mimed the laying of a tatami mat at his feet and kneeled.
 
Out of the dimness a ghostly white face rocked into the light like a marionette operated by a drunk. The face was stoney and still. Painted white with black around the eyes and mouth resembling a dimestore wooden indian flaked with white paint.
 
The one kneeling nodded at his master.
 
His master began to speak with his hands miming his words.
 
(Subtitles read) “Report, why do you abandon your post guarding the swammy?”
 
The kneeling one began to reply in sign and mime, without making a sound. (Subtitles read) “Lord Cesare my master, during my time with the swammy I believe I have encountered the one they call ‘Pookie’. The fugitive sought by the ringmaster, what’s more his accompanied by a deserter and a strange girl. He is currently hosted by a group not affiliated with the circ-.”
 
Cesare the mime shogun put his hand out to stop him. (Subtitles read) “You talk too much Pepe”
 
The mime bodyguard froze (Subtitles read) “There’s more, your son.”
 
(in subtitles) “Brandon?”
 
The body guard continued (in subtitles) “It seems as if he wants to fall in with this strange lot but he was turned away. Humiliated by the man leading them, at least I think it’s a man.”
 
(subtitles read) “He brings great shame onto me and our clan, but his failings are my own. He was cocky and I fed into his cockiness, I paid strong warriors to fall before him, but soon he challenged one that would not be swayed by money and he lost. When he found out what I did he was lost to me, searching for purpose outside of the circus.”
 
(subtitles read) “What would you have me do my Shogun?”
 
(Subtitles read) “The one known as Pookie is not to be harmed, for now. He is of grave interest to the ringmaster, but these others, the outcasts, they cannot be allowed to live.
Although Brandon is my shame, it is not their right to dishonour him, his weakness is my own and it cannot be known. Speak no word of this to the swammy, take a detachment of Mime ninjas with you, do it swiftly and leave no trace.”
 
(subtitles read) “Yes sir”
 
(subtitles read) “The clown must not be hurt is that apparent
 
(subtitles read) “Readily sir.”
 
The mime shogun retracted his statue like face back into the darkness.
 
 
Later that night Pookie left the safety of the tent feeling as stiff as an ironing board with morning wood. Riki was milling about outside leaning against a post watching as Canard and Efron frolicked with the other performers. Canard especially looked to be having a good time, evidently getting into their supply of grain alcohol. The two were laughing and singing with the oddly dressed men as the sun slowly set on the day.
 
Riki sensing Pookie in the opening said “Are you feeling better?”
 
“I asked you if you could beat him” Pookie said looking past him.
 
“And I said maybe
 
“What happens if you die?” Pookie said softly.
 
“You mean to them? Probably nothing” He laughed and then paused looking at them “What about you?” He said tossing his head bac.
 
“What about me what?”
 
“What’ll happen to them if you die?”
 
He paused for a moment having never given thought to that. “Probably nothing, or they’ll die, who knows, I’ll be dead.”
 
“Does your life mean that little to you?” Riki smiled.
 
“Does yours?” Pookie sighed. “You know, sometimes it feels like I’m only just starting to get this world.” He said as he looked at Efron smiling and laughing horsing around with the drunken one legged man. “and then-“
 
“It’s all ripped out from under you”. Riki finished his sentence.
 
Pookie sighed again. “That’s not what I was gonna say.”
 
“Life sucks” Riki said “But it’s all we’ve got.”
 
“I guess so”
 
“Because we hope one day it’ll all mean something, that it’ll make sense, that’s why we keep going.”
 
“Do you really believe that?” Pookie asked.
 
“I don’t know.”
 
“Hmm”
 
“Anyway I think you should fight him.” Riki said wistfully.
 
“Why me?” Pookie scoffed.
 
“Because you’re the main character” Riki laughed.
 
Pookie frowned and said “I couldn’t even touch him, he’s unbeatable.”
 
“If you want to cut him you can cut him.”
 
Suddenly Pookie heard the voice of his master in his head and it sent a shiver up his spine. “What?”
 
“I can teach you if you’ll let me”
 
“Fat chance” Pookie scoffed and went back into the tent.
 
Read the rest of the chapter on inkitt, or don’t I don’t care haha.

Three ring samurai part 3 Chapter 3 ‘The part you throw away’

Long time no listen to my drivel.
It’s nothing dramatic, just lots of boring day jobbing sucking up my time and soul. Still trying to find a new job, not holding much hope for that honestly but I keep soldiering on nonetheless.
Personal and work life aside, my consumption of product in terms of media is pretty great recently. My ascension to escapist sci-fi incel is complete haha. I’ve been watching farscape recently to give the expanse a rest because the seasons are short and I was running out of them now I can’t say which I like more because farscape is sort of more silly but I feel more connected to the characters and their chemistry. 
But I love the expanse for the realism and story but I love farscape for the characters and the puppets and all the physical effects which are literally Jim Henson puppets. So this is like sesame street in space except not aimed at children even remotely haha.
I would kill to see an escape of sesame street with Rygel haha.
Wait is Jim henson sesame street or muppets? Are they the same thing???
So I’m hooked on that and there are four seasons of like a billion episodes so I’m set for stuff to watch while I lift heavy things and grunt. My product consumption is set and I’m excited for next product.
On the book front I didn’t notice I did this but I actually stopped reading the Parker the books when Richard Stark stopped writing them for like twenty fucking years for some reason haha.
Just totally an accident. But I started reading his nineties books now and they’re pretty solid. They haven’t dipped in quality at all, the first one was not my favourite style of his books. I notice that he has like two styles of Parker books and considering the subject matter it doesn’t surprise me that it has these limitations. You either get a situation where Parker is just finishing a job and it went right or it went wrong then someone betrays him or it goes wrong and the rest of the book is him trying to deal with the new development and get away with the money.
Or my personal favourite where it starts with Parker getting the job and then spends forever autistically setting up the job only for it then to go wrong from some unforeseen circumstance which he then has to deal with and get away with the money. I like these ones purely for the great build up and excitement. I tend to think the first style is just laziness, where he can’t be bothered to come up with a clever heist so he just skips it and gets into the meat of the story which he’s great at and the action is always really great. But it’s just a way of getting the heist out of the way, I see why he does it because normal people are bored by ages of tedious planning and setup. But I think we’ve established I’m far from normal.
The first book is actually the peak of the first trope, a heist goes really badly wrong, his wife betrays him and shit gets fucked up haha. Watch the movie Payback if you can’t be bothered to read the far superior book. The book wasn’t about heisting, even thought here was a heist in it. It was about Parker being this unrelenting force that was going to get what was his nomatter what. It was setting up this character that would step on the devils dick to get what he wanted.
But the second book is what gave shape to the mythos in my opinion because it’s all about that anal setup, like half the book is about him getting this truck which he is used for like a few seconds to block off the view from the road in this armored car heist. But it was just this fantastic build off to an amazing pay off that really set the tone for the rest of the books as well establishing new characters and worldbuilding.
The nineties era books (I’m not sure what era they’re actually set in because Parker and his pals haven’t aged it seems) the first is the epitomy of the first kind, the book starts where they’re in the middle of the job which goes right. But then they’re betrayed and shit happens, looking back it was ok, not amazing. The next book I’m on now is like a mix of both kinds which is weird.
It starts with the action at the end of a heist that goes sort of wrong because Parker is climbing out of a wrecked car but he has the money and he gets away leaving one guy there stuck in the car. 
The real story comes in where this guy had another job set up which now falls on Parker when this guy dies. So we have all this good set up which pleases my autism all while shit from the previous job is encroaching on the latest job. So he’s really mixing it up with this one. That and he brings back a few fan favourite characters from the roster, not my favourite characters, I really want to see Grofield and Handy Mckay come back and I’m saving the Grofield books for when I finish the Parker series. I really wanna see Grofield because he wasn’t in good shape in the last book, as far as I remember he’s missing a few of his fingers. But it’s not like Stark really gives a shit about continuity I mean he brought back Ed Mackey from being literally dead without even an explanation. I guess he just forgot.
I mean I was planning to read all the Parker books again in graphic novel format but I can’t find a good place to pira- I mean buy them at an affordable and price from a reputable source.
Come on! Richard Stark is dead he doesn’t care if his books make money. I mean fuck, pirating these books about a master thief is some ultimate irony surely. The closest I come to being Parker is downloading comics for free and possibly lots of movies and games if I was a pc master racist.
So yeah content, finally some content and it doesn’t totally suck, yeah well ok it kinda does but it’s fun to write and until my unusual form of writers block passes it’s really all I can muster. My inspiration is in short supply right now and I can only church out ironic crap. But I think I’m gonna just throw all my other books either up for free or onto muddy boots so it at least gets out there and maybe makes some money. 
I hope is that my ultimate punishment is that the worst book I’ve written, the zombie book I wrote as a joke gets put up as a humiliating netflix show.
One can only hope.
See you…
A little boy with a blank expression stares off into the distance as his head is lathered and shaved in preparation for his training.
A crude clownface is painted over his dull lifeless face.
Sitting before the elder clown master. The elder’s legs crossed, his eyes closed solemnly puffing on a pipe, a few bubbles coming out of the end of it as he thinks to himself.
“My young one, you are now a clown in appearance but not one in spirit, a clown does not have to smile on the outside, but in his heart there must be laughter.” The old man put his pipe to one side and leaned forward. “Once you can take this nose from my face your training will be complet-“
Before he could finish the child ripped the nose from the old man’s face, the sound it made was a ridiculous honking as he squeezed it in his little hands.
“You didn’t let me finish” The old man spat “What I meant to say was ‘your training will be complete when you can take the red nose- without it honking.” He said as he took the nose and popped it back on his nose with a loud honk.
“Now the first part of your training will be to enter that tent over there-“. The old man raised a wrinkled tattooed arm pointing towards a large tent covered in strange graffiti clown markings. Lots of ‘Ha-ha’s and ‘why so serious?’s and other edgy stuff like that.
The boy quickly began to rise without changing his expression “Hey- let me finish will ya?” The old man scowled “On your hands” He smirked.
The child looked sceptical at the old man for only a moment, not sceptical but surprised and then accepting. As if he was about to listen to a ridiculous story but been told it was ‘based on real events’.
“Only those who can walk on their hands can truly say they know how to walk on their feet.” The old man smiled. “No man in that tent walks on his feet, to do so would shame the holy ground”.
The orange dust settled on a road side flea market bizarre selling all manner of goods and trinkets. The merchants wore long ragged clothing and hunched to display there wares on rickety stands made from refuse metal and wood. Their hands clasped as they sharply eyed customers over their long hawkish noses.
Pookie had agreed to accompany Riki on a quick supply run for the tent commune thing.
“Thanks for coming with me” Riki said over his shoulder.
“I had nothing better to do” Pookie said as he picked up a weird nick nack of a clown with green hair and yellow skin.
He pulled the string and the doll said in a strange mechanical voice “I’m crusty the clown hahaha”.
Pookie sneered at the little doll before putting it down and saying “Never heard of you.”
Riki continued looking forward and talking as if to no one. “You must be wondering about Jersey, what’s she’s doing with a bunch of guys like us.”
“Not really.” Pookie said prodding a stuffed dinosaur toy with one of it’s legs missing.
“It doesn’t strike you as odd a young woman like that would be in the company of all these men?”
“Take a look at me guy, ya think anything strikes me as odd?”
Riki turned to look Pookie up and down and said “Hmm, I guess not.” He smirked. “But you have been thinking about her?”
Pookie was flustered for a second before he said “What, no!”
“She came to us much like you did.”
“I didn’t come to you, we’re just passing through.”
“Passing through huh? I like that.” Riki laughed. “She had nowhere else to go, the wastes churn out so many like her, no families, no friends, no hope. We’re all like that in some way, but it’s good to find others, ya know what I mean?”
“Not really” Pookie said.
“Sure” Riki laughed as he turned back around and dipped his head to smiled with his arms behind his back.
Pookie let him walk on a little further while he messed with some beanie babies he had no intention of buying. With the no money he had before he heard an off putting whimpering sound.
“Look kid, I’ve already told you, I’m not a teacher and I don’t have time for this crap ok.” Riki yelled.
“Please master, I beg of you accept me as a student, I wont take no as an answer. I’ll wait night and day out in the acid rain and the radiation, I’ll do anything.”
“Try going away.”
“Good evening sir? Maam?”
“Who are you? Some other nutjob that wants me to train them?”
Pookie sighed exasperated and decided to go over and see what was happening.
The scene was an unusual one. That weird fumer kid from before was on his knees begging Riki to train him, on the verge of tears. But more pressing was the tall gaunt man standing just behind Riki in his blind spot.
He was slim and ghostly looking wearing a weird multicolored wrapping around his head with an unusual gem in the centre. His face seemed dark and brooding despite the bright time of day. Atop his lip was a neatly trimmed pencil thin moustache and soul patch below. The look in his eye was piercing but also seemed like a chameleon looking everywhere at once.
“I have heard you are very skilled, I would like to put those skills to the test in a duel.” The man said, his voice rising eloquently, a slight tinge of accent running through his words.
“And who are you?” Riki asked defiantly.
“I am but a humble warrior mystic who wishes to put his skills to the test. I have travelled all over this world and learned very many interesting techniques, I’d like to see how they stack up to someone such as yourself.”
“Is that a challenge?” Riki smiled.
“You can call it that” The man laughed.
All the while the young fumer Brandon was looked back and forth between them in some form of incomparable awe at the two figures and the aura they gave off.
It seemed as if the air pressure changed as these two unusual men studied eachother.
Read the rest of the chapter on inkitt.

3 Ring samurai part 3 Chapter 2 ‘Silver children’

Hey there, back again with more insane typed pen wiggling that goes nowhere and no one reads haha.
But that’s half the fun right.
Nothing new to report, just getting increasingly black pilled as the world just seems to be an endless nightmare where I don’t get to see my child on fathers day or her birthday or ever for no other reason than that her mother is a petty vindictive scumbag with no soul. One unfortunately that I think I’m still in love with despite loathing them to their core, but you can’t control your dreams. I’m not really afraid of saying that because I’m pretty sure they stopped reading my blog.
Despite all this I’m still trying to get to the country she lives in so I can be with my daughter, the daughter she wont let me see over skype and I have no legal right to. But maybe if I move there and make enough money I can hire a lawyer if she won’t let me see her.
I dunno, even if I get a job there, it probably wont go right and I’ll just end up even more miserable in an alien country, miserable in paradise surrounded by people that probably hate me. But right now I feel like anything is better than this, this endless emptiness and loneliness. But I get this sinking feeling that I’ll never get there and I’ll just die stuck here, I don’t think I have enough vital skills that they want or they can’t just get there. I feel like anybody that would hire me would do so on novelty alone and that’s not a safe bet.
I don’t like my chances but I have no choice but to keep trying until something else comes along, it’s my only option.
Either that or I’m stuck in this shitty job surrounded by people I hate making peanuts and going nowhere just playing videogames to medicate the emptiness and sorrow I feel.
K that went to a dark place. Fuck it, I need to stop writing this blog and look for a job I can fantasise about and never get.
See you…
After a long journey of awkward silence and farting poorly veiled by coughs they arrived at a ramshackle squatters camp. Made from a series of tarps turned into makeshift tents, it appeared as a boil on the horizon.
They got out and Riki lead to the biggest tent. The sound of the strange puttering vehicle had alerted their presence and lifting the flap of the tent a slim woman emerged. She thankfully looked normal and was an actual woman with long brown hair. Although she looked young her expression was weather beaten. She was pretty but there was a heaviness to her features that suggested something more to her. Her clothes were simple and looked homemade. A long flowing skirt and a earth coloured blouse with a flower pattern.
“Riki, you’re back!” She said as she hugged Riki, her smile was one of relief but then she wrinkled her nose as if she smelled dog shit on his shoe “Who are these guys?” She said with notable disdain.
Riki looked back smiling awkwardly revealing deep laugh lines. “Oh these guys, they kinda helped me on the road.”
“Kinda” Canard said.
“Yeah not really” Pookie said.
“Jersey, we can feed these strays right?” He smirked as if it was a challenge.
She looked at them but her eyes were far away like she was looking past them at the trouble coming behind them on the wind. “Sure” she said sucking her gums.
Not more than a minute later Pookie and pals were shovelling some stew made of a questionable meat into their mouths.
“What meat is this, tastes kinda…” Canard said poking his gums with his pinky.
“Rubbery?” Jersey finished his sentence.
“Your words” He smirked.
“Don’t worry it’s not people” She said pulling an unconvincing smile as she slopped some more of whatever it was into his bowl.
“Err thanks” He said.
Riki dipped bread into his stew and ate quickly without speaking. When he was done and the bowl was empty, and he looked full and happy he said “I guess you’re wondering about our super interesting backstory?”
“Not really” Pookie said without looking up from his stew.
Riki looked at Canard and Efron.
“Nah” Canard said.
“No” Efron said absentmindedly.
Riki looked at the dog like creature and it just barked.
“I thought so” He said. “Well you might not believe this but we all actually used to be in the circus, a long long time ago. But we split, “creative differences” and we never looked back. Now we work for ourselves, just entertaining folks, no killing necessary.”
“That’s fascinating” Pookie said unconvincingly as he leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes almost falling asleep looking very full.
“What, the Ringmaster just let you up and leave?” Canard asked pointedly.
“Nah this was before his time.” Riki said.
“I see” Canard said, not sure what that meant.
“Well I guess you guys wanna get some rest” Riki said getting up from the table. “We’ve got some spare cots, it’s not the ritz but it’s better than sleeping with your dick in the dirt.” He laughed.
“What’s the ritz?” Efron asked.
The next day Pookie and the gang were fitting in as well as a gang of freaks can fit in in a group of geeks and beardy weirdies wearing dresses and make up. They were gathered in the big tent eating some breakfast, some kind of ok tasting slop made from grain and some kind of milk. The origins of which they didn’t want to press.
When suddenly out of nowhere, carried on the morning wasteland dry cool wind a strained broken voice called out.
“MY NAME IS BRANDON BERGBLATZSTEIN AND I SOLEMLY DO SWEAR MY UNDYING FEALTY TO YOU MASTER!”
“Huh?”
Riki and all the other performers emptied out of the tent confused and ready for anything as they came out to see what all the ruckus was about.
And what they saw deeply confused them all.
Kneeling in the wasteland dirt was a young guy. His head shaved and cleaned and bowed like a penitent monk on a pilgrimage. His clothes simple and baggy.
It was the kid from the other day, one of the fumers that attacked Riki after his performance.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
The kid looked up and there was something in his eyes, a deep emptiness. A loneliness he couldn’t express with words and as he spoke it seemed like he was on the brink of tears. “Please, will you be my master and train me in the ways of tranny fu?”
“Tranny what?” Riki said.
“Please master, make me your apprentice.” The young lad asked.
“This some kind of trick, how’d you find me?”
“No trick, I followed you here.” He sighed “I- I just came here to learn, please I beg of you” Brandon said as he crawled on his knees taking Riki by the hand.
“You ‘beg’ of me?” Riki said confused. Riki drew his hand away. “Look kid, I’m nobodies master, I can’t teach you anything.”
“Please, I’ll do whatever you say!”
“Does this look like a school to you?” Riki stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth as he thought to himself. “Look kid, it’s not happening, just get on out of here.” Riki walked away and gestured for everyone to return to their breakfast leaving the kid still kneeling there.
Pookie stared at the kid as all the others went back inside.
Later that night Pookie lay awake in his makeshift cot thinking.
He remembered being a kid. His head shaved as short as it would go, before he had the tattoos on his face. It seemed like yesterday he waited outside a brightly coloured tent with a group of other kids. Through the wind and rain they waited for days, some left, driven away by hunger or boredom or the acid rain until only a few remained.
Pookie remained, an expressionless child with no parents and no past.
Until on the third day the tent opened.
A jovial old man with a broad smile hunched over a cane. On closer inspection his smile was actually painted on and his mouth was almost completely obscured by a huge moustache. His face painted completely white with over-exagerated eyebrows arching all the way up his bald forehead. His head was bald but for a top not at the back painted red and at the side his hair puffed out. To top it off he wore a big red nose.
The children looked up at him with a mix of wonder and awe.
“Walk this way” The hunched old man said.
The old man turned and began to walk in an odd crabbing movement almost like a monkey or like his legs were made of wood leaning on his cane. The children followed him into the vast tent walking normally except for Pookie who took it upon himself to mimic the old man’s walk.
The children turned and laughed at Pookie who didn’t seem to understand. The old man too had noticed this from the corner of his eye and he stopped and turned to face the children.
“You’re all dismissed” He said.
The children seemed stunned and upset.
“Leave now” The old man said softly.
The children, upset bowed their heads and did what they were told. Pookie too bowed his head and began to follow the last child out.
“You there” The old man said. “What’s your name?”
Pookie looked up at the old man, his face heavy and emotionless he said “I don’t have one”.
“Hmm” The old man stroked his moustache and said. “Why did you walk that way?”
Pookie sniffed and looked about himself at the inside of the strange multi-coloured tent. Looking back at the old clown he said “Because you told me to”.
The old clown laughed and patted the child on the head. “Then you have passed the first test”.
Pookie looked up, his eyes filled with wonder but still he could not smile.
If you want to read the rest of this absolute nonsense  head on over to inkitt.

3 Ring Samurai part 3 Chapter 1 ‘Pillow Jam’

Yep, big surprise, this is how I’ve been wasting my time recently haha.
[Everybody disliked that]
Haha yeah so I wasn’t feeling writing Kur, I wasn’t feeling up to it what with my current shift in focus that being having a real life and a real job and being close to the people that matter to me. My attention has been split, my creativity shot, my drive dead. Permanent writers block, well it’s not that I can’t write evidently. It’s that I can’t care about what I’m creating over the next step I want to take in my life.
So I decided I couldn’t stop writing and instead I’d just write something that took less energy, something I give less of a shit about haha. Just to keep my pen moving in other words, so it’s like taking a break without taking a break haha. Just giving my mind a rest.
Also content wise I’ll be slowing down, probably do like two blogs a week if that. Just gotta put the focus where it belongs.
Anyway that’s all, still hoofing my cv around praying to god someone will take it which I know they will and I do something right for once.
See you…
In a darkened room a pretty Asian girl with her face painted white tuned a strange instrument. Her lips and corners of her eyes dawbed with red fingerprints and her eyes had carried a certain melancholy.
The intrument resembled a guitar but had a long neck and only four strings and it seemed to be made from a re-purposed road sign. The girl wore a long and billowy white gown and kneeled as she held the instrument close to her. Suddenly with a what looked like the lid of a can of soup she rapidly scrapped the strings. The instrument giving off a strange tinny resonance which grabbed the attention of the room.
The room was dingy and small, the only light coming from holes in the corrugated iron ceiling and walls. The light perforating the thick smoke from people huffing engine fumes.
The girl started to sing and the odd cast of characters in the audience in the dimly lit room cast their eyes on her. She started to wail in a strange language they’d never heard before. Her voice seemed broken and out of tune but also charming and compelling. Filled with a resonant emotion which touched despite not understanding the words of the song.
“arayashikiku no dei
(in search of a new land)
harasaku baku no dei
(let’s build a new house)
hare fushigyurasa nejyuku
(by neatly gathering hay)
surajifushiro yondo
(to thatch the roof)
hare fushigyurasa nejyuku
(by neatly gathering hay)
fushigyurasa nejyuku
(neatly gathering hay)
surajifusero yondo
(to thatch the roof)”
“I can’t understand you” All but a gaggle of chucklehead diesel huffers were entranced by her song.
kirishigaki ku no dei
(at the stone walls)
kuganeya be tatei tei
(let’s celebrate the golden house)
hare momo tobyuru wakya
(that was built)
ya uriba yuwa o yondo
(by a hundred carpenters)
hare momo to byuru wakya
(that was built)
momo to byuru wakya
(was built)
ya uriba yuwa o yondo
(by a hundred carpenters)
“Speak American!” One of the voices said cloaked in fumes.
“Hey you’re kinda cute” Another said.
hateigachi ya naryuri
(August draws near)
tobibani ya neranu
(but I have nothing to wear)
hare utou katabani
(I want to dress up)
ya karachitabore
(brothers, lend me a sleeve)
hitotsu aru bani ya
(I want to dress the children and those I love)
kanasha se ni kusuitei
(with the single kimono I own)
hare wanu ya okuyama
(I will wear vines)
nu kazuradasuki
(that I picked deep within the mountains)
“Wanna be my animu girlfriend?” One of the fumers said mocklingly.
ojyuugoya no teiki ya
(the full moon shines)
kami gyurasa teryuri
(far and wide like the gods)
hare kana ga jyo ni tataba k__o tei taborei
(when my lover comes to visit, I wish the clouds would hide it a little)
The song ended and the girl opened her eyes and looked into the smoke and said nothing. Not even remotely acknowledging her hecklers as she left the raised stage are in silence. The rest of the patrons waking from the spell she put them under, feeling melancholy but invigorated by her song.
The girl waded through the smokey room carrying her instrument in a gunny sack. She approached the bar and exchanged whispered words. The bartender reluctantly handed her her some form of currency and motioned with his head towards the door.
The girl nodded sullenly and picked up her gunny sack and walked towards the exit. The door was little more than a hole cut into what seemed to be a building made of storage containers. Outside the wasteland was still with a slight wind blowing all the nothing and the heat beating down. Really missing that ozone layer.
Passing through the door into the wasteland she heard a voice coming from the dark dive bar.
“Hey I said you’re kinda cute, didn’t ya hear me over your wailing?”
The sound of snickering laughter from the dingey darkness of the diesel punk dive.
A grotesque figure lunged out of the murk, his leering dusky face covered in weird tattoos that looked like a drunk childs scribblings. A spattering of facial hair among scars that looked vaguely like sunburn or radiation poisoning. His lips chapped and blackened from sucking on tail pipe. His eyes were red and moist looking and he grabbed at the girls arm when suddenly something barred his path.
A tiny demon face leapt at him from the darkness at his side. The vicious little face with a big smile laughed at him as it hit him square in his bulbous nose knocking him flat on his ass.
“What the fug!” The fumer said clutching his bloodied nose trying to sweep the darkness and smoke away to see the full figure of the demon that assaulted. He wiped the tears from his nose and his vision unblurred. Standing before him was a clown with an unusual sword halfway out of it’s sheathe barring the door like a thin silver arm.
The clown said nothing, he just tilted his sheathe up and let the sword fall back. An unsettling mechanical laughing sound coming from the little devil’s face on its butt.
“Oops, didn’t see you there pal!” The clown smirked.
“POOKIE” Margherite screamed powerless as she watched their blades fly through the air, so fast she could barely see them.
In an instant they rushed past eachother and stood back to back. Pookie resheathed his sword with that horrible canned mechanical laughter ringing out.
Coldslaw stood, his swords still drawn, a manic smile on his face, a mask which slowly slipped. He dropped his swords and they stuck in the ground like two head stones. He fell to his knees clutching a mortal wound before toppling over on his side into the dust under the orange moon.
“NOOOOOOO!” Margherite wailed as she rushed to Coldslaw’s side as he lay dying.
“Coldslaw!” She cried, her facepaint running off her face.
Coldslaw coughed and looked up at her, his eyes dipping slightly. “Ha, it’s not a tattoo, face paint huh, must be cool to be the ringmaster daughter” He laughed.
“Stop talking nonsense.”
“Don’t mourn for me” He laughed smiling a real smile. “It was all a big joke, don’t you get it?”
“A joke?” She sniffed.
“Yeah a big joke – ” He whispered as his head slowly lolled and his face became expressionless and dead like a dolls.
“Goddamn you Pookie! You didn’t have to-“
Pookie didn’t look back, he paused and breathed in and out slowly and walked away.
“You bastard!” She screamed.
If you wanna read the rest of this weird shit head on over to inkitt.

3 ring samurai part 2 Chapter 8 ‘Y’all been warned’

Hey there all you lovely people in my head.
It’s your boi coming to whine about how shitty this year is so far and drop weird stories from the tattered recesses of my damaged brain. This one is about clown samurais or some shit, I dunno.
So yeah 2019, so far it can suck a dog’s dick. I’m sure my ex if she’s reading this is rubbing her hands together with glee because I broke up with the girl I just started dating like a month ago. It was going pretty well but I got upset about her never having enough time for me and instead making time to go drinking with her friends or weirdly hang out with her exe’s family, which is just, I mean wtf? Ok. I guess I shouldn’t feel weird about a girl I’m dating hanging out with the family of the guy she was previously dating.
So I raised this, what I thought was a minor issue and she didn’t respond very well, just sort of brushed off my concerns so I gave her some space and myself some time to cool off and I think things are ok. We’ll make up, we’ll work through it and she comes over and things go pretty well, we talk and then she leaves and a day or two later she’s just like “This isn’t right”.
No real explaination what that means, I asked but everything she said just sounded really unsatisfying and wishy washy to me. Like she’s pissing me off and then turning around saying ‘this is why’ like punching someone in the face and saying ‘wow bro chill, I just punched you in the face’.
I dunno, I’m just talking shit I guess, I’m not so much sad as just disappointed because I really saw potential there and she said she did too until just recently, over this minor spat.
My ex if she’s reading this which she probably is is probably laughing and saying to herself I tried to have everything and lost it, but not really I just tried to have one thing that was mine and I never get my own way for some reason, I can’t just have one thing without it blowing up in my face.
I lost so much over this, a whole person, a whole future and it just seems like so much of a waste compared to what it could have been. It’s over before it even began.
But moreover, I can’t blame her for what happened with my ex before her and her unwillingness to let me see my daughter, because that’s my fault, but I can’t help thinking if I’d never spoken to her I’d still be able to see her now.
Losing that was heart breaking and the only thing that made it better was imagining a future with someone that wouldn’t do that to me, that wouldn’t be so callous and cruel and take away something so important. And now that’s gone, before it even really began and I don’t understand why.

But I suppose it’s to be expected. 

Good news is I have lots of work with Diana to keep me busy, I’ve started sending her out to agents now, already got my first rejection letter, so that’s great haha. But that’s nothing, I mean it was within a day, you don’t want an agent that gets back to you in a day anyway, means they have too much free time on their hands, six weeks is the sweet spot.
I am preparing my anus for many more haha.
More bad news is that I haven’t had time to write and my blogs are gonna be few and far between until I start up again sometime this month or the next when the stuff with Diana is fully done and dusted then I can just get back to writing and wait for the buttpain to roll in haha.
But hey, now that I’m single I have plenty of free time to do it, so there’s that.
Also got banned on facebook again on my main haha, first of 2019. But my troll account is still up haha. I hope I get another ban soon so I can do something fucking constructive and stop just shitposting haha.
Anyway here is the final chapter of this part 2 of 3 ring, hopefully you enjoy it, I really like writing these. They’re just fun and silly and kinda cool, lots of potential I think. I was thinking I might try and find some weird novella mag that might publish them, we’ll see.
See you…
“W-what is this?” The girl cried.
 
“It’s a robbery what does it look like” The robber said.
 
“Well it could be more” The other robber smirked suggestively.
 
“W-what does that mean?” She squealed.
 
“What’s up with her face?” The third robber said.
 
“Yeah what’s up with that?” The first once asked.
 
Maybe she’s one of those ladyboys we keep hearing about” The second smirked.
 
“Ya think she’s got a wiener?” Number three asked.
 
Maybe we should check first.” Number one added.
 
“Well I never done it with a ladyboy before, won’t that make me a homo” Number three said.
 
“Eww gross get away from me” Margherite squealed as she kicked at her robbers.
 
Ten minutes earlier maybe, I dunno who cares?
 
Margherite had been deep in thought as she traced the path the caravan had previously taken. She was hoping to catch the scent of either Pookie or Coldslaw, sure that one would inevitably lead her to the other. It was early when she’d set off hoping to sneak out before the rest of the circus was awake as circus folk almost always slept in, because why the hell not. They also didn’t brush their teeth twice a day or floss between meals or observe any sort of bedtime at all. In that respect they were kind of like land pirates except not.
 
Margherite on the other hand loved getting up early and brushing her teeth and flossing but that was just her nature. Don’t ask me where you get floss from in a post apocalyptic diesel punk future. Maybe they found a whole train car full of the stuff how should I know??
 
Anyway so she’d been walking along her merry way taking what she thought was a shortcut. Which is weird because she didn’t exactly know where she was going having never really set foot in the ‘real world’ before. So she cut through a little path in some high grass in the forbidden irradiated plains where some things still grow, weeds mostly. It was then she heard a woman screaming and struggling.
 
Naturally being curious and good natured, Margherite went to investigate the source of the noise. Stumbling on three would be bandits getting in a situation that was deeply pornographic with a mother and young daughter. The strange appearance of Margherite was enough to distract the bandits. Allowing the innocent people to escape putting her in the position she is right now. Which is curled up in the long grass with three leering wastrels looming over her.
 
“He he he, well lets see what she’s got in those shorts.” The first bandit with a big nose said.
 
“I’m warning you, if you touch me-“
 
“Yeah what are you gonna do little girl?” The second bandit said with his twisted lipped smile.
 
“Not me” Margherite yelled. “Lord Bunnynaga”
 
“Lord what?” The third bandit with the bad haircut said.
 
“What’s she talking about?” Big nose said.
 
“Yeah there’s no one else here” Twisted lips added.
 
“There is too he’s right over there on that bench eating rice.”
 
“Huh?” The bandits collectively dimly looked over at a heaping pile of nothing off in the distance, a weird mutant bird flew over and made an annoying sound.
 
They turned to see Margherite running away.
 
“Hey!” Bad haircut shouted.
 
“She tricked us” Twisted lips shouted.
 
“Get her!” Big nose cried.
 
The three men quickly caught up with her as she made little progress in the long grass in her ridiculous clown shoes.
 
They grabbed her by the shoulders and tossed her to the ground. One that had been hitching up his trousers tussled with his belt buckle and let his trousers hit the ground.
 
A rabbit ear twitched at the sound.
 
“I’m warning you, if you-“
 
“If we what?” Twisted lips smirked.
 
“He’ll slay you all! Cut you down like ducks!”
 
“Slay? What is this text based rpg?” Bad haircut laughed.
 
“Like ducks?” Big nose mused.
 
“Look missy we aim to get out rocks off and do unvirtuous things to ladies steal stuff and generally be evil doers and that’s what we’re gonna do.” Bad hair stated.
 
The second rabbit ear twitched and Lord Bunnynaga swallowed down the last of his rice bowl with a large gulp. He wiped the crumbs from his cute fuzzy bunny mouth and put the bowl and chopsticks down neatly next to his copy of samurai playbunny. He rose from the bench calmly and straightened his robe and sword belt.
 
“This is your last warning, he’s a cold blooded bunny killer!” Margherite yelled.
 
“What does that even mean?” Big nose asked?
 
“This bitch is crazy!” Twisted lips added.
 
“What the hell is that?” Bad hair said.
 
“What the hell is wha-?” Big nose said.
 
“Hng”
 
“Gah”
 
The three bandits turned in stunned silence and before they could utter a word of protest with one clean strike from his noble katana. Lord Bunnynaga had separated all of their heads from their bodies. But in so doing the cut was so perfect and precise so as to leave one flap of skin remaining. Thus stopping the heads from comically flying off and spraying Margherite with blood. Instead their heads simply drooped to the side as they fell with very little blood.
 
Margherite got up as the Bunny samurai was sheathing his katana and dusted herself off.
 
“What took you so long?”
 
“Being a figment of your imagination I am bound by a strict code.” Lord Floppy Ears said.
 
“Yeah I know, and you’re so damn cute” Margherite smiled and hugged the bunny samurai kissing his fluffy cheeks and whiskers. He resisted dutifully staying stoic and reserved.
 
“My lady, why did you leave the safety of the circus?”
 
“I have to know why he did it Lord Floppy ears”
 
“You’re sure it was him then?” The imaginary bunny asked.
 
“No- yes, I don’t know but I know if I look into his eyes it’ll all make sense somehow. I know him, he wouldn’t do such a thing, not without a good reason.” She thought about it for a second. “And if Coldslaw kills him I’ll never know.”
 
 
Pookie leapt from the tub wrapped a towel around his waist. He grabbed his sword which was resting against the tub and charged almost butt ass naked into the night.
 
Outside the bath house tent it was black as pitch. The only light coming from a series of dead and dying streetlights probably centuries old along what used to be a highway. The road itself long since eroded.
 
A man stepped out from under one of the streetlamps, washed out by the bright light his features hidden in shadow but Pookie didn’t take his eyes off of him.
 
Coldslaw drew both his swords, long elaborately curved Katanas with ‘d’ guard hilts like long butterfly knives.
 
“Are you ready?”
 
If you like this, check out the rest of the chapter over on inkitt at Y’all been warned

3 Ring Samurai Part 2 Chapter 7 ‘4 Sho Sho’

Bonjour,
Back again with more half assery as it is the season, I couldn’t do a blog on tuesday because I was busy and I cobbled together another haiku from a song I like. I don’t know why, I guess I’m just too lazy to come up with them on my own or maybe I just worry I’ll retread too much material and sometimes I can just find a song that captures everything I feel better than I could on my own. Also the rhythm really helps.
This is probably the last blog I’ll do til january, because I’ll be busy with work and christmas and because I haven’t had time to write on top of editing Diana for the last time. So I’m running low on material.
Although I was spent most of the day spamming mythology pages on fb of which I’m not banned on currently haha. I got some good feedback, I was called an ‘excellent bard’ haha. That pleased me. Probably the best people to drop that on. Especially since Celtic folklore gets so little love from literary folk obsessed with greeks and vikings.
Work has been hell, my personal life isn’t so bad apart from the other stuff, where my heart is heaviest. But I think next year things might really turn around. I’m gonna get a new job and if one of my books gets picked up that’d be great.
Had little time to read but what I’ve read of the second shadow pulp is pretty good. The shadow is at the very least really good filler, which I guess is the meaning of pulp. It’s not great but it’s not bad, like I’m not desperate to see what happens next but it holds my interest enough to want to keep reading. The writing isn’t amazing either, just serviceable. But maybe sometime soon I might write a shadow pulp myself. I do really like the shadow and how he’s written. Every appearance is meant to send a shiver up your spine and it really works. When he shows up everything changes, it’s great.
Still playing red dead 2 and I plan on doing a review, the game is just long and honestly pretty boring. It’s like the story and characters really aren’t very engaging. And it’s a prequel so you basically already know what’s going to happen you just don’t know exactly how. I honestly felt like the story of Assassins creed 3 was more compelling. I’m not kidding, that game had a good story. You knew your goals and motivations, and your villain and it felt personal and real. Red dead is a scattered mess, the story meanders and goes nowhere ultimately. Ha don’t want to spoil my review, but I think it’s one of those games that will be forgotten in a month. And if it hadn’t launched in between the shit storm kicked up by fallout 76 and battlefront v it would have got a lot more flack.
It’s shaping up to be an ok christmas, a little melancholy slipping in for reasons I can’t say but I have enough booze to wash that away this year, here’s hoping for some resolution next year.
To all the one and a half people that read this blog, merry christmas and a happy new year!
See you…
 
BOOM!
 
A cannonball turned the rest of the saloon into confetti showering Canard and Efron with debris.
 
Efron shook her red mop for debris and dust, coughed and looked up at Canard. She handed him the gun “It’s up to you I guess.”
 
He took it and let it hang at his side as he watched Pookie narrowly dodge a wrecking shot at his feet.
 
Pookie had taken to running along the rooftops for cover. Unfortunately the brothers were a lot more agile than their size had initially suggested.
 
The oldest stayed below from his firing position, arching up like a mortar, the middle brother followed Pookie up on to the rooftops.
 
The middle brother retracted and spat the wrecking ball at Pookie’s feet tearing huge chunks out of the roof of the building. A bemused post nuclear family sat around a scrappy dinner table looking through their new skylight.
 
“Err sorry” Pookie said.
 
But before he could react he heard the chain tighten, the middle brother swinging it by biting down on it and turning his hips and shoulders.
 
The ball slammed into Pookie’s gut and tossed him off the building. Luckily he landed on his head and was totally fine.
 
Pookie rolled onto his back, dazed from the first strike he looked up at the sun which had peaked and was slowly going down, the sky a bruised orange colour. The middle brother smirked and swung the ball over her is shoulder and muttered to himself “For Juan”. With all his abdominal strength he turned and swung the wrecking ball at a downward angle, meaning to crush Pookie like a bug.
 
Meanwhile the oldest brother circled around and was coming at him from the other side. Aiming right at him.
 
Pookie was unable to move, looking up at the sky as the ball eclipsed the sun coming right at him like a comet just coming over the pivot point of the swing.
 
A shot rang out and the chain snapped freeing the wrecking ball which shot off careening towards the eldest brother. The ball lodging itself with some force into the barrel of the cannon just as it was about to fire.
 
There was a deathly pause and then internal indigestion noises. A bead of sweat ran down the eldest brother’s brow right before the cannon backfired and tore him in half like a piñata full of sausage meat. The entire cannon exited his body taking most of his internal organs with it and leaving an exit wound the size of an elephant’s foot.
 
Another silence, the smell of cordite, Canard stood, feet planted holding the gun in his outstretched hand. “Why did I?-oh” He said as he looked at his hand and saw two smaller hands wrapped around it.
 
Efron smirked as she sat curled around Canard’s shoulder.
 
“What if the chamber was empty?”
 
“I would have fired again” She laughed as she climbed down off of Canard.
 
But her laughing was cut short. The moment her feet hit the ground a broken chain wrapped around her leg and yanked her like a tiny side of beef, dragging her through the loose dirt and sand.
 
Pookie groaned as he raised himself onto his side only able to watch as Efron was reeled in like a carp flopping on the ground.
 
The Middle brother slurping on the chain like someone sucking a giant piece of spaghetti with a huge unwilling meatball on the end.
 
It all happened so fast, Canard barely had enough time to react. He went for his staff but before he could even flick the blade out Efron was in the middle brother’s mouth with chain wrapped around her. The middle brother devoured her inch by inch, his jaw stretched wide like an anaconda.
 
Canard was so stunned for a second he forgot he was missing a leg and tripped when he took the staff away as a support falling face first into the dirt. It was like he was wading through custard, like it was all happening in slow motion for some reason.
 
He recomposed himself and tried to get to his feet.
 
The middle brother let out a vicious chuckle which was muffled by the person in his mouth. He put one finger over his left nostril and shot out a couple of giant buggers which hit the ground and exploding into a cloud of smoke.
 
Canard instinctually froze like a deer in headlights until the smoke finally cleared revealing him to be alone with a very sore clown.
 
“What just happened?”
 
“Nothing good” Pookie mumbled.
 
“What do we do, go after him?”
 
Pookie got to his feet groaned and said. “Nah.”
 
 
“Gosh darn it, I’m too late!” The dog faced boy cursed under his breath as he peeped through the little hole in the big top. The one he chastised Margherite for looking through only a couple of chapters ago.
 
The sun was going down, the meeting was emptying out. The heads of the clans going back to their little pieces of turf leaving only the icecream man and the Ringmaster alone in the big top. His icecream van was his home so he didn’t need to go anywhere.
 
When they were alone, he put his feet up on the table and grinned.
 
“So”
 
“So what?”
 
“Want me to ice’im?” He laughed.
 
The Ringmaster said nothing.
 
The icecream man laughed “It’d be poetic, don’t you think?” He chuckled.
 
“He’s more use to me alive” The ringmaster said coldly.
 
“Oh so this was part of your master plan all along?” He smirked a little too wide, his lips were thin and cold looking almost non-existent, two thin bloody streaks on an icicle.
 
“Something like that” The Ringmaster smiled jovially, but not with his eyes, his eyes were fixed and issued a silent threat.
 
The icecream man let out a little breathy laugh and took his feet off the table. “Don’t you forget, you owe me” He stood and looked around the big top. “All this is cos of what I done for you” He leaned forward on the table. “And it can all go away like that”. He clicked his bony fingers.
 
“Are you threatening me?” The Ringmaster asked.
 
He smiled trying to look innocent, shrugging his shoulders “Just reminding is all.” The icecream man laughed and started to walk away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, those kiddies aint gonna get the sweet stuff theyselves”.
 
He climbed into the cab of the icecream truck, the suspension straining under him. That tinkling off key music started up again with the engine as he slowly drove away.
 
The dogfaced boy had no idea what was going on but watched as the Ringmaster sneered and spat on the ground, cursing silently.
 
“What the heck was all that about?” He whispered to himself.
 
 
If you liked this chapter head on over to inkitt to read the rest of it and the previous chapters. 4 sho sho

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