The bloke's name was Cortena, or something. A handful in the cage, a cheap suck, my afternoon tickle. He had ratty, brown hair and a beard that looked like something dead and wild was trying to eat his face. Third of a group of four that walked into the coffee-fuck shop that morning, and I … Continue reading Vampire Workday
death
God Has a Monster Face
Attend. Captain Yazoshea, on his daily whirlwind tour through the ratty shoebox drugstore under his bunk, finds a placid serenity in the embrace of the umbilical duty of mankind on the frontier. His fingers bleed from razor molestation - a side effect, perhaps intentional, of the routine rummage. He finds, without looking, a wooden child's … Continue reading God Has a Monster Face
Enter the Ampersand
Ludwig took the short route down the toilet. With his pants around his ankles and holding the stump of his left arm, he took a long dive through the vines and into yesterday's paper. "He's a dirtbag, a commie, a shite," she says - she being her, the one, the all, the wretch. Ludwig took … Continue reading Enter the Ampersand
Things You Thought You Knew
Attention. Jasmine wasn't listening. While you were plugging insanity to the room, this tart galloped to T. Ragsdale's hippie barbeque fest down the hall. That's it - play with the fringe of last year jeans that you haven't washed in weeks. Look down into the red plastic cup and pretend the gnat drowning is not … Continue reading Things You Thought You Knew
The Night the Silver Age Died
I haven't talked about Marvel much lately. Honestly, I haven't talked about much of anything here lately, and for that I feel ashamed. It's not that I feel like I owe you anything--this blog has no rabid fanbase desperately hanging on my every word. This blog, from its inception, has merely been an outlet, a … Continue reading The Night the Silver Age Died
The Deep, The Black
In this universe, this speck of assumed significance, this flash of time, there lives a brutish example of villainy. On his hands, layered in folds of flesh untouched by the star above, there clings a hardship of want. Though an emperor of clouds of mites, his whimper is laid bare before the harsh darkness of … Continue reading The Deep, The Black
Salvatore Ambulando’s Detritus: Fungus Among Us
My wife isn't the woman she used to be. When we were younger, we traveled the world looking for transcendence. We wanted to be gods who tread the same dirt as their creations. Money wasn't an issue to us; we could always manage to find it. We backpacked Europe during the Federation Wars. We parachuted … Continue reading Salvatore Ambulando’s Detritus: Fungus Among Us
