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Walking Dead

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Link to the full chapter as always below.

Heroes of the wild

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

Oh Golley-gee Green Sunday has a release date!

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

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

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

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

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

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

So pretty time all round.

See you…

Zombiecast Podcast Appearance and other stuff.

Yoyoyo, we authors now.

Yes, I stayed up past my bedtime last night/this morning, I know right, so hard so sad. I’m fucking with you, I’m pretty much nocturnal because I’m a neckbeard loser who lives in his mother’s basement and has no life other than making skyrim orc waifu’s haha.

So I was allowed to go on this lovely show on the allgames network called zombiecast, I’ll leave a link to it down below and yeah it was a lot of fun. I kinda sound like a zombie and we spend a lot of time talking about my shitty english accent haha but we get some zombie stuff in there. They let me plug my crap, I kinda didn’t do a great job of selling Green Sunday but you know we shit talked a little bit, I mean the book isn’t even out so really I just wanted to spurg about zombies and dumbshit like that, talk nonsense, get some bantz going and honestly I could have been on for a lot longer it was really fun and easy.
I was pretty nervous actually but then we got into it and it was very conversational and the hosts were very laid back and chilled out, so it was just a lot of fun. Also the author of American Revenant my good virtual friend (haha) the honourably John L Davis the fourth was in the chat laughing at how fucking stupid I sound haha. Of course he blew us all away with stories of his book landing in the hands of Jeffrey Dean Morgan, that’s Negan. Negan is reading his book, what a jammy git. I mean that’s so cool, I’m really happy for him and bless him the guy works hard he really deserves it, much more than me anyway haha.

So yeah that happened and Normi said I could come back on when the book launches, which is definitely something I’ll do and she wants a signed copy which is doable, now if she can get it to Negan, wouldn’t that be nice haha? I’d honestly prefer it goes to the guy who plays Trevor in GTAV haha I love that guy. If anyone would like my writing it’d be that guy haha.

Ok down to business, the business of updates. Been chugging along with the sequel to GS and it’s going pretty well, it’s a joy to write about halfway through now depending on whether it shapes up to about 80k or under like last time. It’s just such a guilty pleasure for me because honestly I feel ashamed to write zombie fiction I feel ashamed to tell people who aren’t fans of that stuff about it because it’s dumb it’s not real. I really want to use it as launching pad for my serious/semi-serious dexter style novels. But it’s like being between a rock and a hard place because I love writing it but I know it’s basically trash most normies would snub but I think the people that enjoy this stuff might love it so I do it for them and for me.

The contract is sorted for Muddy Boots, still working on the cover, and the new edits so when that’s all done we’ll be moving on to launch schedules, got quite a bit to do in the mean time, but we should have physical copies audiobooks, the whole nine yards, I’m really excited, how could I not be?
Still doing the review copy shenanigans and of course signing up to my mailing list will bank you free ebooks, I say books, it means one book, the same book haha. When I finish my other novella, I’ll switch to that, how does that sound, or I might just give away my nano novel haha.

And here’s the link to the episode I’m in, I’m like an hour and I don’t think you can skip so *raspberry noise*, honestly it’s a great show, if you like walking dead you should definitely give it a listen.

Zombiecast

amrev

You lucky bastard haha.

See you…

GREEN SUNDAY Chapter 16 ‘Kill Too Hard’

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

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

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

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

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

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

See you space gender non-conforming squid people.

~

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

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

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

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

“Hey, boss!” A cheery voice chirped.

“Bernie, you double crossing pinche puto!”

“Come on, it’s not just me.”

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

“It’s the fans, man.”

“The fans?”

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

“What the fuck? With who?”

“Ahem.”

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

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

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

Click.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FREE review copies GREEN SUNDAY

Howdy folks, it’s come time for me to ask you, my meagre audience to give something back in the form of words and time, of course not money, who could have a use for any of that junk right? We’ve all converted to photosynthesis at this point or died a paupers death buried an inch deep in potter’s field.

Just looking for some launch day reviews, that’s all, not your souls, not your first born child, I mean I’ll take them, I won’t be rude, I don’t really know what I’ll do with them but I won’t stop you.

Just waiting on the cover to be finalized and we should be launching the book next month, gonna be on a few podcasts in the mean time just to shoot the shit and verbally shill.

Oh and good news, I got bored last week and I was sick of writing that story about the serial killer art contest in a panopticon, it was kinda just dragging me down. I needed to write something light and fun so I started writing book of Green Sunday and it’s cheered my up already. It’s just so much fun to write, it’s like a break from all the shit of the world just to write something this fucking fun and crazy, it’s liberating.

Anyway as usual gonna post just a quick excerpt from an edited chapter for reasons and you can look at that and I’ll provide links to it on inkitt so you can read it in full there but shit if you want to get a free pdf copy all you need to do is message me and I’ll fucking send you one for free so you don’t have to bother with this inkitt shit.

Hit me up on twitter or minds @CallMeRyk if you want a copy.

 

New cover sketches for Green Sunday.

Hola mi amigos.

Thanks again to the new subs, just finishing up the proof read of LCYE and it will be on it’s way to you by the end of the month guaranteed (Cos I already finished the proofread and turned it into a pdf but I’m holding out for even more subs on my mailing list haha). Trust me it’ll be worth the wait.

Really excited this week because I already got back some of the revised sketches for the GS cover (which will be posted below) and paid the first half of the money and as soon as that is done I’ll launch that SOB, for money this time haha. See how that works out. Then it’s faffing about with more marketing, maybe go on some podcasts and stuff, that should be fun, take it to a kids book reading haha. Traumatize the little shits.

Ok well enough of that.

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I’ll leave which one I chose a surprise for now haha.

If you wanna check out the artist, maybe throw some shekels at him or send him some nudes (no seriously he needs models), shoot on over to Pagdon.

See you spacecowpeople…

Green Sunday Chapter 15 ‘Strange Eyes’ (Edit)

Hello lovely people,

First I want to thank all those new people who joined my mailing, so I hope and assume you’re reading this, if not who gives a shit ahah?

Ok so on to updates, personal life; still trash.
Looking at, oh shit that reminds me I can post those. I have sketches for the initial cover designs of Green Sunday. So that’s underway, having more sketches drafted. I’ll post the ones I have down here somewhere.

I’ve worked out the contract and paid for the edit of Ladies Close Your Eyes but the cover could take a bit longer, so as soon as I get the edit back I’ll just clean it up as is and send it via my mailing list to everyone on it as promised.

As usual got a little excerpt of the next edited chapter of GS ‘Strange Eyes’. It’s a fun one, had to fight to keep my inner weeb coming out haha. It’s hard to restrain yourself from writing this big stupid self indulgent action scene that runs away with itself, but I had fun so fuck it haha.

As usual you can read the whole thing by following the link to inkitt right here.

Strange Eyes

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These are just some basic sketches for outlining the finished design, so please don’t judge yet haha.

http://pagdon.com/

This is the guys page, he’s a real artist folks, not no comic book hustler haha, check him out and peace out.

The brief silence was ripped apart like a piece sugar of paper. A red Beetle door, with garish orange flames spray painted on it, flew across the garage, spinning like a coin flipped by a King Kong size index finger and thumb. It hit the wall of the shop, pancaking the fat biker and embedding itself in the concrete and sheet metal, load-bearing wall.

The fat biker was eviscerated by the force of the door and his body hitting the wall. He looked like he’d fallen from space. His body was only recognizable by garish, near-human-shaped body parts: hands, feet, an eyeball, a tongue, a limb with bone shrapnel perforating the skin. His wet carcass popped like a water balloon full of dark red jello, sticking in some places and plastered to the wall. Heavier matter slopped onto the floor, making a cringe-inducing, wet, slapping noise.

He looked inside out. Grown men, who watched people beat each other to death and fed people to half-dead freaks, threw up raw hotdogs onto the concrete floor.

Mojang shook as he clutched the grenade launcher in his large hands.

The bikers watched as a puckish boy hopped off the rim of the pod. He could have been anywhere between sixteen and twenty. He had a slim, strong frame, and was around five foot four.

He scanned the room. His face wasn’t visible for a carbon fibre helmet covering most of his head, making him look like a cross between a paladin from WOW and a Power Ranger. His body was covered in a skin-tight compression suit made from individual plates of space age metal. The plates moved and breathed with his body, like the scales of a dragon.

A slit in his visor revealed a penetrating stare and a strange set of blue-green eyes. One eye was blue; the other was green.

The boy looked around the room, like the Terminator, but his eyes had a faint smile to them, as if he was in on the joke. His gaze nevertheless was cold and unfeeling. When he’d finished, he flashed a cocky grin with his eyes and turned around. He hopped back onto the pod, like Peter Pan, dislodging a strange chrome rod. The rod flared out in both directions, forming two conical points. It was almost the length of the boy’s entire body.

Clutching it in the middle, by what was now evidently a handle, the boy crossed his chest with the strange, chrome, double-ended lance and let out a cocky, breathy laugh.

“What the fuck are you waiting for? This clown need to make you balloon animals? GREASE THIS MOTHERFUCKER!” Mojang stuttered, wrestling with the volume of his voice as his whole frame shook.

Preacher Season 1 review

Long story short; It fucking sucked.

I’m a big fan of the comic, in fact I think it’s one of the first Garth Ennis comics I’ve ever read and it inspired me to read The Boys and his Punisher Max run as well as his Hellblazer run which was great. As well as of course influencing my own writing greatly. The man is a comic legend, he goes a little too far sometimes or not far enough and he’s copied by wankers the world over but no one can do it quite like him.

That being said Preacher is probably his magnum opus, a perfect distillation of his wit and particular brand of filth and blasphemy, creating a story that is so ridiculous but well-formed and coherent it begs belief that it isn’t being burned at this minute by some left-wing feminist with pink hair. Purely because she hasn’t read it because she can’t read anything that isn’t written in period blood or is specifically about vaginas.

Preacher is probably one of my favourite comics of all time, I won’t say it’s my favourite because it’s kind of pretentious but it’s up there. The story is great, it constantly keeps you guessing, it’s funny and action packed and the characters are fantastic each with their own well developed back stories and personalities. It’s hard to express how great this comic is, I mean some of the plotlines are fucking daffy but it feels so well put together and well told that it really felt real, the characters were silly but their struggles felt real and that’s what good story telling is supposed to do. Make you forget despite the ridiculousness of the situation that you’re in a story.

amc-preacher--182679-640x320.png.jpg

But the tv show is a fucking mess. My first gripe is with the casting, Dominic whatever his face is a pathetic baby faced Jessie Custer, I don’t buy him for a second as a badass chain smoking preacher, not for a second, his head is the size of an Oreo and is just too squishy and round looking. Tulip, who cares about Tulip, she’s got to be the most throwaway character in that comic, I don’t care that they made her black but they somehow managed to make her more annoying in the show than the comic, but needless to say she’s the worst character in the series. She just never had any depth for me other than being his girlfriend, she never really has any struggle that isn’t shared, any story or character of her own. Just a generic badass female cardboard cut-out that does nothing but whine about everything and was never believable even in the comic and is now even more cartoony in the show.

My favourite character Herr Starr, the strap-on loving bald German weirdo isn’t even in it, I guess they’re saving him for I dunno maybe season four when the actual story starts.

Ok so the Cassidy casting is ok, he’s a good actor, he’s been in some stuff before, he’s fun and funny and likeable but he shows up and what is he doing? Fuck all. The entire first season is filler, unabashed, unashamed filler. Nothing happens, nothing from the main plot of the comic happens in the first season. And yes, I’m not counting the story of the Saint of killers that they took ten episodes to tell, because that was a one shot spin off about his backstory, it wasn’t part of the whole series.

So, the only part of the first season that actually happens in the comics is from a one shot that isn’t in the actual comic.

You have this massive sixty issue comic to borrow any of the number of plotlines but decide to just finger your asshole for ten episodes while Jessie tries to save some shithole Texas town for what purpose? It’s just the plot and the rationale for each character is just so fucking thin. Why is Cassidy there? What he just shows up and they become mates instantly, boom he’s there in the church for good.

Tulip shows up because she found someone from her past that fucked them both over and wants him to come help her get him and then later decides just to go get him without him anyway so it was pointless.

The whole first season is just wasting time, like one big trailer, nothing happens, the whole first season is a bunch of idiots flailing around pretending they’re following a plot when really nothing is happening.

Did the writers even read the comics or did they make up the whole story looking at covers and reading the blurbs on the back?

“Err angels, god powers, vampires, got it.”

prea
(Just found this online, fuck he would have been perfect to play Jessie, if he wasn’t, you know, starring in a show that didn’t suck haha).

Also AMC is probably the worst network for it to be on, what you can have a vampire dismantle a person with a chainsaw but he can’t so ‘fuck’ or actually fuck anyone or see any tits… in Preacher, in a Garth Ennis comic. GARTH FUCKING EXPLODING DILDO ENNIS!
It’s a joke, this is probably the rudest and crudest comic ever created, there were actually characters called ‘sexual investigators’ who’s whole job was just buggering random people, I’m not even kidding. The main villain is obsessed with getting hookers to peg him with his head in the toilet. How can this ever work on AMC?

It’s a fucking insult to the fans in my opinion and I’m amazed this pile of mediocre shit is doing so well when shows like Constantine, which were flawed sure but still had a lot of the comics in it while creating an original plot line (Maybe it was from a plotline further on, I haven’t read the more recent Hellblazer comics) got the axe. I mean Constantine was a little cheesy but the casting was on point and I think given a second season it could have done better or bombed itself into extinction, but it deserved a second chance, this pile of shit is wagging it’s dick in your face and laughing and people who aren’t fans of the show have no idea they’re being fucked.

I really have nothing much to say about it, ten episodes and nothing really happens, nothing progresses the plot, it’s just a bunch of stuff happening with interlaced snippets of the saint of killers one shot storyline, which was the only good parts. The rest is just adlibbed nonsense non-story plucked out of some Hollywood execs ass.

I mean he must use his god powers like once an episode if that and he never really does anything cool with them like telling Arseface’s dad to go fuck himself quite literally. I mean I’m sitting here with this whole comic in my laps and this show doesn’t have the balls to even have him leave his crappy church until the end of the season. So, in the timeline of the comic the first season is basically the first issue of the comic with the saint of killers one shot stretched over ten hours. That’s what a fucking joke this show is. I mean this is worse than the walking dead making a whole season about the farm they spend like ten minutes at in the comic. I mean that was boring but it was consistent and there was some action/romance/struggle/bullshit.

Preacher as a tv show in my opinion has literally nothing going for it, it’s a lot of style over substance and compared to the comic it’s an unfunny joke.

I’m pissed, I wasted ten hours waiting for this to get good and it wasn’t even so bad it was good, it was just lame. On a brighter note, I watched Lucifer season one and I really enjoyed it so I might do a review on that. Or maybe not since I appear to prefer bitching than talking about stuff I like ha-ha.
Long story short, this isn’t Preacher, I don’t know what it is, but stop it.

pre

Well anyway, rant over.

Peace out.

Have a good Christmas!

Green Sunday Chapter 2 This Charming man (Unedited)

This is the second chapter of my romzomcom novel work in progress Green Sunday, it’s currently in the process of being professionally edited but in the mean time I thought it would be fun to post an excerpt from the raw manuscript.
I just posted this as an excerpt because the whole chapter is about four thousand words long, which is just way too long for a blog. So if you want to read the rest you can on inkitt by following this link Green Sunday

An old TV sitting on a greasy looking shelf played in the background in a local greasy spoon diner on the edge of town. Accompanied by the sounds of knives and forks sword fighting and people taking value deluxe bites out of reasonably priced burgers and washing them down with complimentary milkshakes.

“The Pudgiwara corporation said they were sorry for dumping the one thousand tonnes of toxic waste in the bay and they said they’d never do it again” The news anchor furrowed his brow sincerely before quickly moving on to the next segment “In other local news a young boy of fourteen was arrested after a prank backfired outside his suburban home. The boy; who is yet to be named for legal reasons, was tricked by his friends into believing that another biological outbreak like the one in Arkham, Louisiana was occurring. Police state the boys wore make-up and ragged clothing and pretended to be the undead. The boy fearing for his life retrieved his 22. Calibre rifle he received for his third birthday and slaughtered them all in his back yard”

“Hahahahahahahahahaha!” Incongruous laughter broke out and it seemed like all the knife and fork sword fights ended abruptly but the laughter went on regardless as the story played out in between mouthfuls of raw hamburger meat.

“The fourteen year old boy, then fearing for the fate of his family, went into his suburban home and strangled his entire family to death with a draught excluder”

“Hahahahahahahahahahaahahahaha!” A dirty hand, topped with dirty chipped nails scooped up a clod of hamburger meat from a bowl as he laughed.

“What’s going on out here?” A fat sweaty man in an apron and not a lot else came out of the back and stood quizzically next to a middle aged red head waitress with a face like a leather riding saddle.

“Some crazy guy, all he ordered was a bowl of raw hamburger meat and he’s just been sitting there eating it, then he just started laughing” The middle aged woman said, her face wrinkling up in places never before thought possible.

The fat man’s sweat patches grew under his apron; he started to look like he belonged in a sauna or in a tropical plant house as he breathed heavily.

“The boy is currently under observation at Hellspass psychiatric hospital” The man’s laughter began to run down like the motor of a car slowly sliding into park, a greasy hand touched the arm of his salvation army coat and the slow come down took a sudden bump.

“Hey buddy you’re freakin’ people out, can ya keep it down? People are trying to eat” The fat chef said in an apologetic tone as he furrowed his brow into painful ‘v’s, which seemed to stretch all over his slippery bald head.

“What’s that?” The man said without turning his head, a chunk of un-chewed hamburger meat falling from his mouth onto the semi-clean counter as he opened his mouth and turned his bloodshot eyes in his skull.

“I said-“

“I heard what you said”

“Huh?”

“I just can’t tell what I’m looking at” He picked his teeth with a dirty nail and sucked his gums, dislodging raw meat from his teeth.

“Look buddy, we aint looking for no trouble, I think you better just pick your sorry ass up and leave- right now!”

“Did you make this?” The strange homeless guy squeezed the hamburger meat in his hands, letting it ooze through his bony fingers. He had shoulder length mousey brown hair with a beard, completing the homeless chic, his features were thin and gaunt, dark eyes hidden under heavy lids. He wore a long olive drab army jacket that went all the way down to his ankles just barely hiding the fact he was wearing plastic bags tied with string around his feet instead of shoes. To complete the ensemble a threadbare shirt and pair of pants that looked like they were stolen from an old people’s home washing line. Printed across the front of the jacket was a name written in bold dark green lettering ‘CARPENTER’.

“What’cha talking about buddy? That’s raw hamburger meat, aint nobody ‘made’ it, drifters like you don’t belong here, it’s time for you to move on now!”

“You know, I used to be just like you”

“Get ou-!” A glob of hamburger meat cut off the chef mid sentence, the slimy gelatinous meat by-product getting in his eyes and nose. It felt like a fist made of lumpy snot hit his sinus wall and he felt disorientated long enough for the dishevelled man to kick a bar stool under his feet from his seated position. The chef fell forward as the stool hit his shins, tripping him; Carpenter rose like a jack in the box from his stool to slam the chef’s dirty face into the counter.

He pressed the chef’s face into the clean-ish off colour lime green diner counter spreading blood and raw meat and spit all over it, the chef strained dreamily as his skull was pressed against the hard surface.

“You know it’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re eating.” Carpenter, squeezed the chef’s head with his forearm pressed against it tightly, the veins on the chef’s head stuck out like rail road tracks, pumping hot kitchen grease. Carpenter took his other hand and ran his finger up from his face taking up some of the hamburger meat, getting under his nails, he sucked his finger.

He took the pressure off and sat back on his stool like he got up to get the salt and the chef stuck to the counter with blood and sweat and hamburger meat, peeled off and his unconscious body hit the linoleum floor of the diner like a sack of dried hams, parting stools and chairs and brows as he fell. The diner fell silent, food went un-chewed in open mouths, coffee cups shook uncontrollably, babies continued crying, the dishevelled man went back to watching the news and laughing.

~
If you’ve read this far you can check out the rest of the chapter on inkitt by following this link Green Sunday.

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