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shaun of the dead

GS2 Chapter 22 Duck Seazon

Ahoyhoy fellow sailors, it is I, that dude on the internet who writes stuff I guess.

Back again with more inane commentary on random books and other such pointless crap haha

I just watched Deadpool 2 and I said I wouldn’t do a review because I didn’t really have strong feelings about it, I just thought it was ok. But then I went ahead and wrote a review which I cut out of this blog haha.
Just started writing it and I got out a lot of things I thought about the movie had potential. Because one thing I hate more than a bad movie is a potentially good movie which squanders that potential and just descends to the ranks of the average. Be good or be bad but never be average.

So I’ll have that up tomorrow, shit now I’m completely out of content for todays blog haha.

Well from the get go, that new Parker novel is shaping up to be a complete return to form, even bringing back a villain I forgot he didn’t kill haha. Which is rare if you read the other Parker novels. If you cross Parker it usually doesn’t matter who you are, you end up with a toe tag sooner or later. But I guess he let him live at the end because he felt sorry for him. Which is actually kind of the whole theme  of the book he appears in.

He’s basically this loser criminal who manipulates everyone around him, either by just lying and being reverential or being so pathetic you can’t help but pity him. And I think that’s why Parker couldn’t kill him, but in the book I seem to remember it was sort of up in the air, it wasn’t explicit that he didn’t kill him it was just left to interpretation. And my interpretation of Parker is that he would have killed him without question. Parker does not fuck around, if someone is in his way he’s getting out of his way in a body bag.

He’s killed women and children in these books, he’s imprisoned mentally retarded people, he’s shot people in the back when they were running away, one of which was a woman. He gives zero fucks, he’s a cold calculated criminal who will do anything to survive and profit.

But I’m guessing what Stark is going for is that Parker is softening, getting weak, which is a good idea because it adds more tension, more uncertainty. So the power fantasy of being this unstoppable badass is slowly eroding. And this is an intentional thing since the addition of his love interest Claire.

We’re supposed to know she’s a danger to him but not care because he loves her. And that’s the ultimate dichotomy. Because if Parker was 100% this practical cold calculating machine he would never keep Claire, he would have treated her like all the other women in his life after his first wife Lynn. Just disposable.
All this time Parker has gotten by watching others like him fall because they tried to live a dual life. Balancing the two being impossible, so Parker just decided to have no life other than his criminal life making him invulnerable but isolated. But now Claire in a way is his ultimate villain, someone that weakens him but he can’t let go of, risking himself and her.

This book seems a lot bigger in scope and so far I’m really enjoying it.

As far as the witcher is concerned, I’m not really paying any attention anymore, I just turn it on when I’m gaming, the audiobook I mean. The only thing I pick out of it is that every character this guy writes is more obnoxious than the last, especially women. He goes out of his way to make all the women make me want to stab a pen in my ear. They’re just these working ‘hurr durr women can be cool too’ stereotypes, gotta respakt da wamans. It’s just so forced and corny and lame. I don’t mind strong female characters, heck I write a bunch of them, there’s one at the bottom of this damn blog post haha. But I try and steer clear of this mary sue bullshit ‘the women are just as tough as the men’ bullshit, this unearned superiority to men. I can’t stand it really. I kind of try and mock that trope with Sunday but she’s not in my mind this total generic bad ass, she has struggles with herself and I tried to make her more believable as a woman. And not just a carbon copy bad ass. I tried to make her strong but also nurturing and aloof too. I can’t be a judge of how well I did but hey haha.

Now if you’d asking me about my own writing I would get quiet. Hasn’t been the smoothest recently, day job and weather really getting in the way, it’s sort of slowed to a crawl. Can’t seem to muster the same passion I had at the start.

I’m considering a break to write something more fun until I’m in the mood again but I fear what that might lead to. My only option really is to keep plugging away and hope I don’t go mad.

Well there was something at least haha.

See you…

“Is this really necessary? I mean I’m not exactly much of a threat. I don’t even do cardio, my blood is ninety percent mountain dew! I get out of breath going to the bathroom, come on!” Murray cried as Carpenter tied him to the mison mast of the giant pirate ship in the whitefish mall.

He was whistling passing ropes back and forth wrapping him snuggly around his whole body. Murray’s soggy floppy hair hanging down with sweat.

“And why upside down? That’s just cruel and unusual, I’m getting dizzy already.” Murray continued to whine.

Carpenter bent down when he was satisfied Murray was tied tight enough. He got right up in Murray’s face with that harsh oniony breath making his eyes water. Murray tried to get away from that acidic breath burning his eyes but there wasn’t much room for his head to move. Carpenter smiled and said “I don’t want you to get in the way” He laughed and flicked his nose “Landlubber”. He stood up tall with his hands on the hips of his new red coat and pirate hat he stole off the captain of the skeleton crew.

He looked out on at the mall. All the stores, down at the fake concrete pool floor painted to look like a sea and licked his lips.

“Yoho a pirates life for me!” The little girl’s voice said.

He looked up at her, she was in the crows nest dressed as a pirate with a spyglass. “Land ho!” She said grabbing a rope and sliding down to the deck like Errol Flyn.

He put his foot up on one of the cannons and took the spyglass from her looking out at the entrance of the mall. Thousands of zombie furries were slowly pouring in. Muffled gunfire as the far off mercs tried to quell them in vain falling back to the second floor.

“First mate Cecilia”

“Cecilli.” He corrected as he came out of the captain cabin wearing a really tight stripey first mate shirt. His belly comically poking out of it. An eyepatch shifted up onto his beanie and a pair of tight leather pants completed the ensemble. “Why do I have to wear this?” He asked pulling the tight shirt away from his manboobs, giving them some air to breath.

Carpenter grinned like an evil pirate skeleton and said “Because this is your grave”.

“Sir, should we move? The choppers waiting on the roof.” Rigby said to Evergreen’s back. Evergreen watched the furries flood into the mall beneath him, surrounding the ice rink. He breathed and thought about it for a moment. His men on the far side were holding behind their makeshift barricades for the moment. They were quelling the horde with intermittent automatic fire stopping them from reaching the second floor.

“We can hold a little longer.” Evergreen said without looking back.

Rigby made an incredulous face behind his back and said “Yes sir”.

Evergreens hands tightened on the rail of the second floor balcony as he breathed deeply watching. “How will you get out of this one Sunday girl?” He said under his breathe.

“We have to keep moving!” She screamed in TJ’s sweaty ear as she yanked his flabby arm trying to keep him on his feet.

The eviscergrator was rolling back and forth and around the giant icerink. It was watching and waiting trying to run over and mulch them like an old fashioned push lawnmower. It made crunching biting noises as it ran over the ice. If they watched it and waited and were quick and nimble they could dodge roll out of it’s path like a dark souls boss.

But TJ was getting tired of that. He was drenched in sweat and it was making him heavy and cold and his legs felt numb and shaky. He could barely stand up on the ice and Sunday knew it. A chill ran up her spine as she stared into his desperate sweaty face, she sniffed as she could feel it coming on. Tears welling up in her eyes, tired defeated tears on their way in buckets.

If she ever had a chance to live.

He had to die.

The Frenchman let out a mirthless chuckle and said “So you knew the whole time, I’m impressed”.

Carpenter grinned and walked the deck up and down. He plucked a sword out of the hand of one of the skeleton crew and said “Knew what?”

The Frenchman was incredulous, “That I was here to kill you this whole time, you knew?” He pleaded.

Carpenter scratched his beard with the tip of the sword and said “Nah, not until you just said so.” He dropped the sword away from his face and said “Why would anyone want to kill me?” He said without a hint of irony in his voice.

The Frenchman walked up to now naked skeleton captain and took the rapier from his cold dead hand. “You have no idea what I’m talking about do you?”

Carpenter smiled and shrugged like he didn’t care.

“In the last game you killed a very important man’s only son and he- why am I telling you this?” He said cutting himself off. He stumbling forward into an angry thrust of the rapier as if pulled forward by a magnetic rage. The two sword clanking together. Their faces coming close as they locked blades. Carpenter smiling with his stinking breathe.

Read the rest of this chapter on inkitt.

Duck Seazon

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 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.

GS 2 Chapter 5 ‘Graveyard Chamber’

Hey der, girls and boys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hyperlink below to the full thing as per.

Graveyard Chamber 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Ok” He said.

 

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

 

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

 

“Is it locked?”

 

“I guess”.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“I dunno”. He shrugged.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Well?” She said.

 

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

 

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

 

“Well?” She said standing over him.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Err thanks.” Fuzzles said.

 

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

 

“Errr” He said stalling.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Oh crap” Mr Fuzzles said.

 

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

 

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

 

“Err Mr Fuzzles?”

 

“Yeah, what is it?”

 

“Are you touching me right now?”

 

“No”

 

“Oh ok, erm…”

 

 

GS2 Chapter 4 ‘Any given Sunday’

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

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

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

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

Any Given Sunday

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

See you.

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you, Sunday?”

~

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