Snippet from Chapter 3 of “The Defenders”

Strange

The Defenders is the new title of my Dr. Strange alternate universe tale I’m working on. It was formerly known as Defending, but as I’ve gone through some changes in the writing process I think this fits a bit more.  Hope you guys enjoy this excerpt and please leave some feedback below!

 

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Natalie Thomas was, despite her best efforts, not happy.

“Oh, God,” said Yvonne, putting down her bagel. “I am stuffed!” She pushed her plate towards Sarah. “Here Sarah, you finish it.”

Sarah pushed it away. “Oh, I’m also stuffed. Here you try. I don’t know if you’re eating enough these days…”

Natalie sighed. *I am being paid for this,* she reminded herself. Sometimes, she didn’t know whether to regard the sudden crime wave in Tokyo (and Nerima in particular) as a blessing or a curse. It had increased her bodyguard services by 63%, but—well, guarding Sarah and Yvonne meant watching the eternal struggle for dominance between the two—a struggle to claim the position of “Most Desired Girl at Friarwood High”. The position tended to cycle between the two, occasionally falling on some other girl at the school. Natalie found it very tiresome. Sometimes she wished that a more—obviously desirable girl existed to settle the matter. She often thought that if Ashley didn’t have such a grim attitude—and well, hadn’t been a cripple—she’d have claimed the position in a heartbeat. *And the profits I could rake in that way…* Natalie thought cheerfully. She shook her head. She might as well wish that Ashley were the one who had to practice martial arts. Reality wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

“I’m telling you, my appetite was ruined by that monster attack,” stated Yvonne. “Why I’m still recovering from the trauma.”

Sarah snorted. “Come on, Yvonne. You’ve worn that story out.” She smiled. “I don’t think it even happened.”

“It did too!” shouted Yvonne. “And I was saved by a vampire superhero!”

Natalie shut her eyes. If she weren’t hearing this conversation she’d have a hard time believing it was happening. Actually, she was still having a hard time believing that.

But she also had a hard time believing that a man named “Count Nefaria” had tried to use the Tokyo Tower as the transmitter for his Euthanoelectro Ray last week, and that had also apparently happened.

“Oh, like any superhero would bother saving a girl like you…” muttered Sarah.

“What does that mean?” asked Yvonne in offended tones.

“I think we both know what I mean,” said Sarah maliciously.

“Like you can judge!” Yvonne retorted. “I mean, all the boys, hanging around
you all the time, bumping into you, calling your name…”

“Sarah!” came a harsh voice.

“Just like that!” said Yvonne.

“Sarah…” came another voice, a ghastly whisper.

“And that one too!” she noted. She smiled at the stricken Sarah. “Ha! Dumbfounded you, didn’t I? I can tell by that shocked expression on your face…”

Sarah pointed over Yvonne’s shoulder. Yvonne turned around. “Oh. I see.” She gulped.

Standing in the doorway were two hideous, almost broken forms. The first was a black-haired man wearing a golden devil mask, though a close examination suggested the mask was almost fused with his head. His arms were covered in bulging muscle, and ended in golden clawed gloves. While his form seemed merely muscular at first glance, the longer you looked at it the more—unnatural it seemed, all the mass and sinew seeming to ripple unsteadily. But the worst thing was the pentagram on his chest. It was dark black, and it seemed to just absorb and bend all the light that got near it. The longer you looked at it the worse it got.

The second figure was more openly hideous, though he lacked his companion’s subtle horrors. He was an emaciated brown-haired man, who seemed to have been withered and mummified, his skin having the greyish color of a preserved corpse. A pair of mechanical hooks functioned for hands, while an eye patch covered his right eye.

“Sarah!” said the first figure. “I claim you now, I, Master Pandemonium, the most
amazing being in Nerima!”
“Hey,” said the second figure. “I’m the most amazing being in Nerima, so I’m getting Sarah.”

“Are not!” said Master Pandemonium taking a swing at his associate.

“Am too!” said the second figure, turning immaterial and causing Pandemonium’s blow to pass right through him, instead smashing a large hole in the wall.

“Are not!” said Master Pandemonium. “How can you be more amazing than I am? You haven’t even said your name yet.”

“Oh, right. I’m Harry…”

“Your supervillain name, moron!”

Harry slapped his forehead—an act that was painful to watch as the metal  hook collided with shriveled flesh. “That’s right.” He spread his arms and laughed sinisterly. “I am the Ghost!”

“That name sucks!” cried Pandemonium.

“Does not!” shouted the Ghost, blasting an ether ray at him.

“Does too!” shouted Pandemonium, as the star in his chest seemingly absorbed
the energy.

“Oh, like yours is better Dan!”

Natalie blinked, and stepped forward.  “Harry…? Dan…?”

The pair shuddered. “Natalie?” squeaked Dan.

“What happened to you two?” she asked, slightly fearful despite her efforts to remain calm.

“Oh, we just sold our souls,” answered Harry cheerfully. “We’re soldiers in the army of Hell now.”

“Shut up!” cried Dan, releasing a blast of hellfire.

Harry turned immaterial again, causing the blast to incinerate the table behind him. “No, you shut up!”

“No, you!” shouted Dan. He pouted. “Why are you trying to take Sarah from me? You know I love her!”

“Hey!” said Harry fiercely. “I should be asking you that!” Harry gestured broadly at the young women. “How about you just take Yvonne instead? She’s pretty close to Sarah…”
“Would you take Yvonne instead?” asked Dan.

“Of course not,” said Harry. “I’m cooler than you, ’cause I’ve got the eye patch.”

Natalie readied herself. From the casual displays of power the pair were showing she doubted she could do much, but she could probably distract them for a moment, and then slip away herself. She glanced at Yvonne and Sarah. “When I say go—go.”

Dan was shaking his fist at Harry. “For the last time, I’m getting Sarah…”

“That’s what you think!” a voice shouted out. A young man in Buddhist robes leaped into the shop. With one dazzling spin of a long cane he yanked Harry to his feet, and then rolled in front of Natalie. “No maiden need fear evil on the watch of—Mark, the Devil-Slayer!” He
turned to Natalie. “Quickly! Escape! I’ll hold them off!”

Natalie glared at him. “How? Thanks to you, they’re pretty focused on us right now and they’re blocking the exit…”

Mark coughed nervously. “Oh. Right.” He blinked. “Well, let’s work something out…”
Suddenly he knocked all three of the young women to the ground. A blast of energy
knocked out the wall behind them. “There. See. An alternate escape route. I told you I’d
take care of things.”

Natalie glared at him as she ran out the hole into the back alley. She’d heard about superheroes, of course, but somehow Mr. Devil-Slayer did not strike her as one of the top members of the business.

 

***

After you’re done reading, please take the time to leave comments below! Thanks! Any and all feedback is required to keep this story alive and continue the creative process!

Update/A bit of everything

Hello my fellow insomniacs, how have you been?

Sorry I haven’t been around as much lately but due to a lot of things(Namely work and school) I’ve been a bit tied up recently. Now that I’ve got a bit of free time I can share a few things with you guys and let you know about some upcoming updates I have in the pipeline.

First of all, I’m almost finished with the first story arc in Defending now. For those who don’t know, Defending is my story that stars unlikely superhero Jameson Smith and his transformation into Dr. Strange. I’ve honestly thought of pretty much giving up on it with Benedict Cumberbatch and Marvel bringing it to the big screen but..I may not now and just keep it to help me out of writer’s block on occasion.

I also plan to start attempting to do Alabama basketball recaps and TV show recap/discussion posts. If you guys have anything in mind PLEASE let me know so we can get this thing rolling here in the future. Not sure if I’ll be doing Walking Dead, but I’m definitely interested in Better Call Saul, Arrow, The Flash, and Game of Thrones when it returns in April.

The next thing I want to discuss is my gal Sammus! She’s got a tour coming up soon with the homie Mega Ran and she needs your help to procure funds for her upcoming tour. There are several ways you can help her and I’ve included the an excerpt from her post below:

“***”

Merch!

Sammus Merch on sale!

I’ll be including a brand new sticker featuring Kendra Wells’ dope artwork FREE with every purchase (see my profile picture). I’ve also lowered the cost of posters to $10. To check out the shop:https://sammusmusic.bandcamp.com/merch

Some other ways you can help:
- RSVP for a show in your area (and make sure to purchase a ticket for the NYC show): http://sammusmusic.com/

- Donate via Paypal (to go towards things like the cost of gas, food, and re-upping on merch): http://bit.ly/donatetosammus

- Email the homie Mega Ran at contactATmegaranDOTcom if you’re interested in providing a $ sponsorship

- Spread the word about the tour!

THANKS SO MUCH! March will truly be life-changing! I can’t wait to make any/all supporters proud on the road and at SXSW.

****

In the Mix has been going really strong lately as well and have made it all the way to episode 25! I’ve included the 2 most recent episodes below! If you want more info follow Shoom and Reg on Twitter and like the page here on facebook!

 

***

The final piece of information I’d like to share is from my good friend Chanice. I could put it into words, but I think I’ll let you watch the video below and see for yourself.

You can support her endeavors at Change of Plans

Defending Snippet/ Return to blogging

Check out changeofplans.co a new business website that revolves around the benefits of healthy meal plans and how they can help you make successful fitness gains.

Hey all, how’ve you been?

I have finally made my return from the working world to start blogging again. I hope everyone has been well. Now, as usual if you enjoy the post please share and comment below with your thoughts and thanks for the support!

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Dan threw down his controller in frustration, nearly spilling the bowl of nachos set between him and Harry. “Damn it, Harry, that’s the seventh time you beat me!”

Harry gave an aristocratic sniff. “Is it my fault that you can’t approach my level of vaunted skill?”

“That’s because I don’t play for eight hours a day!”

“I think someone’s being a Grousy Gertie.”

Dan blinked. “What the hell does that mean?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Oh, forget about this!” swore Dan, turning to the pile of magazines. “Now where’s this nude code?”

Harry thought it over. “I think it’s in Video Game Maniac. Or maybe Video Game Fanatic. Or was it Video Game Zealot? No—no, I’ve got it—it was in Video Game Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder! I’m pretty sure

that’s the one.”

Dan grumbled to himself, and flipped through the last designated magazine looking for the code. He wasn’t having any luck, when he saw the ad.

‘DO YOU WANT ULTIMATE POWER?’, it asked, in bold red letters.

Dan found himself intrigued.

‘Are you a pathetic failure, a poor excuse for a human being?’

Dan felt insulted by that. But he didn’t stop reading.

‘Do the strong and powerful take advantage of you with their superior martial skill? Do the witty and clever baffle you with their verbal byplay? Do the beautiful and desirable ignore your existence?’

Oddly enough, Dan found himself thinking of Natalie, Jameson, and Sarah in short order.

‘We can help,’ promised the ad. ‘Call Ultimate Power, Inc. 666-1313-DAMNED.’

Dan glanced at Harry. “Hey, can I use your phone?”

Harry continued to play his video game. “Are you going to call a sex line?”

“No!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

“Damn. Mom won’t let me use them, and I thought that might be a way around it.”

Dan glared at him, and called the number. After about eight rings, a female voice picked up the phone.

“Hello, Ultimate Power, Inc. Offering your hearts darkest desires at a very reasonable price.”

Dan smiled. “Hello, I—”

“Please hold,” said the voice.

‘I come from a land down under,’ began the hold music, ‘where women glow and men plunder. Can you hear, can you hear the thunder? You better run, you better take cover—’

The phone clicked as the flute music started. “Hello, sir? Are you still there?”

“Still there, sir?”

“Well, yes, now—”

“Good.”

-Click-

‘Who wants to play those eights and aces? Who wants a raise—who needs a stake? Who wants to take that long shot gamble—and head out to Fire Lake?’

-Click-

“How about now? Still on?”

“Yes! Now would you please—”

-Click-

‘I shouted out, “Who killed the Kennedys?” when after all—it was you and me! Let me please introduce

myself—I’m a man of wealth and taste—and I laid traps—’

This time Dan started shouting as soon as he heard the click. “Listen, what is the idea here?! I have been

patient long enough, and now—!”

“You know,” said the female voice on the other end, “we are a very busy business, sir. Our services are in constant demand by many people, often in high positions—lawyers, media moguls, politicians, celebrities, radio talk show hosts…”

“Um, sorry, miss…” said Dan, sheepishly.

“So would you like an appointment?”

“Uh, sure,” Dan replied.

“Tonight at eight then,” replied the woman. “It will be a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Right,” said Dan.

“By the way—not that this means anything—but are you the least bit squeamish about the sight of your own blood?”

***********

After reading be sure to check out the latest episode of #InTheMixW/Shoom

comments?

Story snippet from chapter 3 of Jameson’s tale.

Not really sure how much longer I’ll write Jameson’s story with Marvel finally deciding to create a Dcotor Strange movie. We’ll definitely see how it goes though.

 

This week’s blog is brought to you by

 

 

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Dan sat in the Friarwood High cafeteria, staring at the most beautiful girl in the world.

 

Admittedly Sarah might not make it into many people’s top ten list as far as beauty was concerned, even though they’d admit she was easy on the eyes, but Dan was sure this was due to a flaw in their perceptions. Of course, if he’d been forced to think on it, Dan would have to admit that his perceptions had suffered a similar flaw until last week, when Sarah became the “it” girl of Friarwood High School, for the same mysterious reasons that Charles Ponzi became the financial wizard of Boston in the 1920s. But Dan was rarely forced to think on things, which was probably a good thing, as he wasn’t that good at it.

 

Indeed, at the moment he was attempting that operation with limited success. He was (he realized this in a vague way) not extraordinarily (or even ordinarily) attractive to women. Thus he had no chance of getting in with Sarah, as things now stood. This seemed to him a monstrous injustice, and one that needed immediate rectification. However, when he thought about it, Dan realized he had very little idea how to do this. A smarter man would have considered changing something about himself, but Dan wasn’t a smarter man, so he chose a different route.

 

Politics. Or their high school equivalent.

 

Sarah was a friend of Natalie’s. And Natalie was a friend of…

 

“Jameson Smith?” said Harry, puzzled. “But why him…?”

 

Dan glared at him. Harry was his best friend, but simultaneously, he bugged the hell out of Dan. A smarter man would have mused on this matter, but once again, Dan wasn’t a smarter man.

 

“Because, he’s the thing nobody is looking to use—the secret pathway…” said Dan. Plus, he owed Natalie too much money to even consider approaching her directly.

 

“Oh, like in a video game!” Harry smiled, immensely reassured. The conversation was about things he understood again. “You know the newest Dead or Alive game has the hottest chicks…”

 

Dan frowned. “That is not important right now…”

 

Harry’s voice lowered to a confidential level. “I hear there’s a naked code for it…”

 

Dan started. “Really? How’s it wor…?” He shook his head. “Oh, stop distracting me.” He glanced over at the table where Jameson sat by himself, flipping through some book. “My foolproof plan is going into effect. I will befriend Jameson Smith, and then he’ll put in a good word for me with Natalie, who will put in a good word for me with Sarah, who will then BE MINE!”

 

Harry snorted. “My darling Sarah would never fall for such matters. My declaration of love tonight is sure to win her heart.” He brought up a small plastic bag. “After I cover her house in heart decorated toilet paper, she is sure to conceive a burning passion for me! And if that doesn’t work, the pink shaving cream in her mailbox will do the job!”

 

Dan stared at him. “Harry, do all of your declarations of love seem like childish pranks?”

 

Harry turned away sulkily. “Only to eyes clouded with hateful jealously.”

 

“Oh, why am I wasting my time here?” muttered Dan, standing up abruptly. He walked over to Jameson.

 

Jameson was flipping through his book, and patently ignoring everything else in the room. Dan stood next to him, and cleared his throat.

 

Jameson continued to read his book.

 

Dan went “Psst!”

 

Jameson continued to read his book.

 

Dan nudged him in the shoulder.

 

Jameson continued to read his book.

 

Dan leaned forward, putting his face between Jameson and the book, and said, “Hi.”

 

Jameson put down his book, and glanced at him, in a rather annoyed fashion. “Why, hello. My goodness. Have you been standing there all this time, and I didn’t see you?” Jameson’s voice seemed curiously flat. “How intolerably rude of me.” He glanced Dan over, an uncertain flicker passing over his face. “Harry, right?”

 

“Dan,” said Dan uneasily. “Harry has brown hair. Mine is black.””Ah.” Much to Dan’s concern, Jameson seemed to be filing that statement away for future reference.

 

Jameson stared inquisitively at him.

 

Dan stared back, nervous.

 

Things were perfectly silent for awhile. Finally, Jameson went back to his book.

 

“You know, Jameson,” Dan shot out, “I never knew how much we had in common.”

 

Jameson gave him a sidelong glance. “Really? I never knew we had anything in common.”

 

Dan froze. Crap! This was proving harder than he’d thought! “Well—” he at last ventured, “we’re both guys. And we—both attend the same school…”

 

Jameson actually blinked at that. It was the first time in his life that Dan found someone blinking terrifying.

 

“My goodness!” stated Jameson, a dangerous undercurrent of cheeriness in his voice. “That is an awful lot! On reflection, it occurs to me that we are both carbon-based lifeforms. Of the same genus and species,most likely.”

 

Jameson grinned at him. Dan actually felt an urge to take a step back. “I now see that we have a suitable basis for a friendship. And an important part of friendship is being sensitive to the wishes of our friends.”

 

Dan smiled. Things actually seemed to be working out. “Exactly!”

 

“Goodbye then.”

 

Jameson went back to his book.

 

Dan took a deep breath. This was Jameson Smith, for godssake! The one person in Friarwoodthat every other member of the student body could look down on. He shouldn’t be brushing Dan off! He should be happy that Dan was even deigning to speak to him! No—strike that, he should be ecstatic that Dan was even noticing he existed! It just wasn’t fair. Things weren’t supposed to go this way!

 

Jameson glanced at him, half amused, half annoyed. “You haven’t moved, Dan.”

 

Dan practically jumped. “Umm, yes, well, I…”

 

“What do you want Dan?”

 

Dan gulped. “Nothing, nothing, I—”

 

Jameson rubbed his forehead lightly. “Please don’t lie to me Dan. I really don’t have the patience for it. And don’t tell me that you’re here for the pleasure of my company. I’m a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them.” He thought that over. “Well, not that brand of stupid, anyway.” He went back to his book. “So, out with it.”

 

“I need you to put in a good word with Natalie for me!”

 

Jameson stared at him a moment. “Explain why I need to do this?”

 

“So I can go out with Sarah!”

 

Jameson seemed to stare right through him. “That explanation not only didn’t clarify matters, it actually made them more opaque.” He took a deep breath. “Now first—why do you need to go out with Sarah? I thought you liked Yuka.”

 

Dan frowned. “Sarah is my true love. My feelings for Crystal were a passing phase…”

 

“Like your feelings for Ashley,” noted Jameson.

 

“Uh, yes, like…”

 

“Or your feelings for Miss Patrick, the kindergarten teacher …”

 

“Umm—what’s the point of all this…?”

 

Jameson waved his hand. “Just noting that you go through a lot of passing phases. Okay, now, how does my going to Natalie and telling her you’re a great guy get you Sarah? Explain this, demonstrating how point A leads to point C, traveling through point B.” He smiled slightly. “Use concise sentences.”

 

“Natalie is Sarah’s friend. You are Natalie’s friend. Do I have to spell it out for you?”

 

Jameson squinted slightly. “Natalie has friends? That’s news to me.” He went back to his book.

 

Dan stared at him. “Look, I know she’s prickly…”

 

Jameson laughed. “Natalie Thomas is prickly the way a knife is prickly. Not the way a hedgehog is prickly, which seems to be what you’re implying.”

 

Dan stared at him. “Aren’t you going to give me any help?”

 

Jameson glanced back at him. “You love this girl?”

 

“With all my heart,” replied Dan without a moment’s hesitation.

 

Jameson looked at him for a moment, then went back to his book. “Lick the floor, and I’ll do what you asked.”

 

“What?”

 

“Lick the floor,” Jameson repeated evenly. “Get on you knees, and lick the floor, using your tongue. Do that and I’ll consider helping you.”

 

Dan stared at him. “Are you crazy?”

 

Jameson smiled. “A tad touched perhaps.” A serious look came over his face. “Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.”

 

Dan shuddered. “But what you’re talking about is humiliating and degrading!”

 

Jameson laughed. “And I thought you loved her with all your heart. You won’t even consider my terms…”

 

Jameson glanced at him evenly. “You see, Dan, what I’m talking about is love. Degradation and humiliation are the primary ingredients. If you’re not willing to drag yourself through broken glass and nitric acid—twice—with nothing more than her glorious memory to pull you through—well, it isn’t very sincere.”

 

Dan blinked. “What—what are you saying?”

 

Jameson leaned back to look at him. “I’m questioning the depths of your ‘feelings’ for Sarah. You pledge eternal devotion readily enough, but pledging is easy. Proving it’s the hard part.” He went back to his book. “I don’t think you did. You may be interested in Sarah, but it isn’t love. Not by a long shot.”

 

Dan’s eyebrows arched into a position of supreme rage. “You dare! You dare question the burning passion I feel for Sarah! I have half a mind to challenge you to fight right now!”

 

Jameson chuckled. “And wouldn’t that be an epic struggle of the Titans?”

 

Dan stared at him, angrily. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Jameson shrugged. “Well, I may not be able to tell you two apart easily, but I do recall you and Harry were beat up by a group of eight year old girls…”

 

Dan began to shake apoplectically. “That is a vile lie! They were twelve-year olds! And ninjas!”

 

Jameson smiled a bit at that.

 

Dan shook his fist. “Like you’d have done any better!”

 

Jameson flipped a page of his book. “Well, that’s generally the reason I don’t go challenging people to fights…”

 

Dan swung his fist at Jameson’s face. There was a slap. Dan shook his head. The noise seemed to have come just bit too early. He looked down.Jameson, it seemed, had grabbed fist in midair. Without even turning. While reading his book.

 

Dan stared at him. Jameson glanced up at him, and shook his head. “Ahh, Dan. Is this what our friendship has come to?”

 

Dan bit his lip and walked away. Faced down by Jameson Smith! This was the sort of thing you never lived down—that required moving to other school systems in a desperate attempt to avoid the vile stench it left behind. Harry glanced at him as he sat back down. “How’d it go?”

 

“Not well,” muttered Dan.

 

****

 

Also, by my big sis’s new blog over here. Click on the picture for her newest blog post!

Ambition

My insomnia is at work again so…

Here’s a little snippet of what I’ve been working on. Take a look and tell me what you think folks.

*************

It was the late hours of the evening, and Jameson was lying in his bed listening to music. There was a knock on the door. Jameson glanced up. “Jameson,” came his father’s voice. “May I come in?”

“Sure, dad,” said Jameson.

Tom Smith opened the door to his son’s room. Tom looked like a mustached, middle aged version of his son—indeed, the thought that his father might be an accurate representation of himself in the future had caused Jameson to awake in a cold sweat on more than one night.

Tom glanced around the room at the various mystical accruements. “Nice décor…” he stated nervously.

Jameson nodded. “Thank you. I decided to give the Addams Family look a try…”

His father looked over at a bronze mirror. “That’s lying crooked…” He stepped forward. “Maybe I should adjust it…”

Jameson glanced up. “No, you shouldn’t. Trust me.”

Tom backed away, and looked around a bit more. Finally, he turned to his son. “So—what are you listening to?”

Jameson leaned back and shut his eyes. “Philip Glass’s Creation Symphony.”

Tom smiled. “Well good…” He turned around awkwardly, then coughed. “Your mother tells me you joined a manga club…”

“Yes,” Jameson commented. “It is ever-so delightful.”

“Well, good,” said Tom. “I’m happy to see you making friends.” He shifted slightly. “I just hope you aren’t—being taken advantage of…”

Jameson glanced up, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

Tom coughed again. “Well, son, when I was your age, I joined my high school soccer team, with the idea of impressing a—female classmate of mine…”

Jameson’s eyes widened. “You played soccer?”

Tom shuddered slightly. “Well, I didn’t so much—play as I—performed odd tasks…”

Jameson blinked. “Odd… tasks…”

“You know—cleaned the uniforms—got drinks for the other players—that sort of thing…”

Jameson rubbed his forehead. “You were the water boy.”

“Not officially,” answered Tom. “The thing is Jameson, the other players didn’t like me very much… I was treated—rather poorly, and had to endure quite a bit of—teasing. Like towel snapping. And jock locks. And getting dragged around the playing field. And then there were those times they threw me out of a moving car…”

“This story does have a point, dad, right?” Jameson said uneasily. “You’re not just scarring
my psyche for no reason, right?”

Tom blinked. “What was tha—oh, the point. Right. Well, you see eventually Meiko—your
mother—told me that if I wasn’t having fun, I might as well quit, especially as Nicole wasn’t impressed at all, and was calling me ‘a sad, pathetic woman of a man’, ‘a hideous waste of protoplasm’, and ‘a shrill weakling who should be put out of his misery’. So I quit immediately—”

“Good move,” said Jameson.

“—After going to Nicole and begging her to deny the awful rumor.” Tom’s eyes glazed over. “I started to suspect said rumor was in fact the truth after she called the police.”

“Umm, right…” said Jameson, beginning to inch away.

“Fortunately, your mother paid my bail, and the charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence…” Tom shook his head. “Anyway, Jameson, I just want to say that you don’t have to do anything like that to prove anything to anybody. You’re a bright talented young man with a promising future, and your mother and I love you, very much.”

Jameson winced. “Thanks for the sentiment.”

Tom began to head out. “Well, good night, Jameson. It’s been nice talking to you like this.” He glanced back. “Any horrible, crushing secrets you wish to unburden, son?”

Jameson shut his eyes. “I’ll pass.”

Tom nodded, and left the room. “All right then. See you tomorrow, son.”

Jameson leaned back and sighed. His father meant well—as did his mother, really—but he found their constant displays of affection unnerving, and just a bit depressing. He generally felt that his parents wanted to shield their progeny from the effects of a world that had beaten them down—a desire that they had failed quite spectacularly at. Jameson shook his head. He really shouldn’t complain. He was certain there were people worse off than him.

***

 

What’d you guys think? Oh, while I have you here I want to plug some projects that have hit the internet I’m supporting that I think you guys should too.

First, my female superhero and intergalactic bounty hunter Sammus has a new video out for her single Power Ups and a new single “Crown” available for free. She ALSO has a new video for Crown about to hit the interwebz here in the near future. So check her out! Follow her on twitter @SammusMusic and cop the 2nd eP! #AnotherM

 

 

Also, my super duper music inspiration Shoom Isaacs has released a podcast with She’s Ryan over at #InTheMixwShoom follow the new twitter account for the show @inthemixshoom and subscribe to the show on Itunes! There’s a new episode coming soon so stay tuned!

 

 

My big sisters and mentors Katrina Gurl and Nike Marshall have been doing lots of work on the literary front. Katrina has continued to publish her weekly blogs over at http://www.putawedgeinit.com and Nike has continued to come strong on the literary front at http://nikewrites.wordpress.com Please check them out and support their projects like they are my own as they are constantly and consistently presenting new content!

 

 

Finally, if you’re interested in sports, college football and connecting with your fellow fans I can think of no better place to do that right now than at The Houndztooth forums. Not only do they provide the latest when it comes to Alabama Athletics but they also have a thriving message board community that is in need of some new blood! Follow @TheHoundztooth on twitter!

The Houndztooth

Also, before I forget there have been a lot of new releases from other artists I follow please go give their projects a listen and cop them! They’re putting out great music!

 

Follow: @TribeOneMusic

New Music from Tribe One!

Album: #CrisisOnIntimateEarths

 

Follow: @HeySkyblew

Skyblew’s UnModern Life

Introducing, the young ColorfulDreamer by the name of SkyBlew, whose music is proving to be unique with an uplifting, powerful, and positive message in Hip-Hop. He uses his sincere, substantive lyrics & soulful sound to breathe life into a genre saturated with lies, darkness and gimmicks. Most say, SkyBlew is a breath of fresh air! He pushes the boundaries with his music and brings a new/unique flavor to the music world. SkyBlew also dabbles in Nerdcore. He doesn’t want to put himself in a box, so he strays away from putting certain labels on his style. He simply titles it – Painting The Sky,Blew!!! The young artist, creatively incorporates video game and anime references/themes into his repertoire in a very unique way.

SkyBlew is featured on some of the most notable websites in cyberspace such as: 2DopeBoyz, DJBooth, MTV, HYPEFRESH Magazine, and countless others! He also, received MAJOR recognition from ReverbNation as a “Break Out Artist” in their “ReverbNation Artists Shine in 2013″ video! Sky has shared the stage with some of the finest artists in the business, including: Kendrick Lamar, Slick Rick, Lupe Fiasco, Flobots, Slum Village, Jedi Mind Tricks, Watsky, Aer, Grieves, Yonas and the list goes on! SkyBlew is destined for great things. His exposure is growing exponentially on the regional, national, and international levels. Appointed times appear, and with the state of Hip-Hop today, we need more from SkyBlew. This ColorfulDreamer lives by the slogan, “I DON’T Rap, I Paint The Sky,Blew!!!”

New Album: #UnModern Life

Just a tiny tease

Hey all, it’s been a while since I updated so, I thought I’d post this to keep things flowing. Hope you enjoy this tiny teaser

3:24am. Plenty of time, with plenty of money.

If stress was an unwelcome addition to Meiko’s life, relief was a very welcome addition. The kind of sweet relief that comes from knowing that your problems are solved, and solved beyond the minimum of solvability. A weighty bag in her purse confirmed the future—the House would be safe, and they’d actually have a bit of profit from tonight’s mayhem. Whatever anger and panic she felt earlier was almost a distant memory, sinking fast below the horizon as she left it behind…

Of course, relief can be just as much of a distraction as panic, which is why she didn’t notice Mallory until she had walked past him.

He was busy mopping up a bit of the mess left behind by a particularly satisfied customer, who had chosen to return his beer on the sidewalk rather than take it home with him. The odor of the mess only struck Meiko at the moment she noticed he was doing this.

“Mallory, we’re done,” she reminded him. “You don’t have to play wage slave anymore, you know…”

“I know,” Mallory spoke, mopping away with abandon. “But I’d hate to leave a mess like this for Mr. Nakago’s next wave of staff to deal with the next day…”

“Huh. I’d figured you went back to Ryo’s, anyway…”

“What? No way, I’m going with you to get the House back,” he explained, rinsing out the mop via a yank of his bucket’s handle. “I mean… this is all my fault. If I went back to sleep while you’re off dealing with the towing company, it’d be kinda selfish of me. …ummmm…”

“Ummmm?”

“I’m kinda surprised you’re not, uh, more angry at me,” he said, unsure if saying it was a good idea in the first place. “I mean, sure, you were pretty upset when you found out, but… and maybe it was just you focusing on work instead of on what happened, but… I mean, I’d understand if—”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever?”

“Whatever,” Meiko repeated. “We came out of this better than we went into. And… I guess you wouldn’t have known about the rights management fees, so I can hardly blame you. And besides, look at you now… you’re mopping up the contents of… what is that, anyway, urine or vomit? I can’t even tell.”

“I think it’s both…”

“Anyway, you’re above and beyond the call of duty,” Meiko continued, while keeping her eyes off the puddle of unidentifiable yuck. “Most guys I know would try to duck out of responsibility, avoid doing anything to correct matters. Go and sleep it off, like you said. Except you’ve been working your ass off all night, without losing your trademark smile. So… whatever. I don’t feel angry. Do you think I should I still be angry?”

“Er, no? Yes? I don’t know. I’m not exactly a good judge of these things…”

“Then I’ll choose not to be angry,” she decided. “I’m too tired to be angry, even if I wanted to be.”

Controversial Jack w/Voice!

Robin Williams died the other day. Which is tragic in a lot of ways, but in this case because he relates to one of my favorite protagonists by the name of Controversial Jack. I started writing about Jack and his escapades long ago when I was a middle schooler and a time passed evolved his character but one of the original people I based Jack on was one Robin Williams. Robin’s manic personality and gift that allowed him to showcase so much of his personality really stuck to me in every film I ever watched him in as a child. As I got older I never was quite as big of a fan of him as when I was a child, but still admired his talent and ability to touch the more poignant side of humanity. I really hope that one day I’m able to write something that has half as much of that poignant energy in it.

 

PLUG:

If you enjoy my work, you’ll definitely enjoy reading some writing from my big sis over at Nike Writes! 

Another great blog you should check out is Dani’s blog over here! I’m sure all you mom’s and what not that drop by will be curious about some of her future ventures! I’m sure she has a new blog popping up soon!

 

So, without further ado, here’s the audio and text from a little bit of Controversial Jack. Keep in mind that my audio recording and reading are still a work in progress, but any feedback on how I can improve and suggestions for new microphones will be appreciated. Thanks in advance for the feedback!

 

***

There’s a tale of the apocalypse that involves four horsemen. Stop me if you’ve heard this one. The great and terrible horsemen (or surfers, in various island cultures) charge across the face of the earth (which sometimes is flat) bringing fire and chaos (although sometimes they bring seas of blood) and generally making a large mess (which sometimes is larger). Their names are Famine, Pestilence, War, and Death. Unless Pestilence is replaced by Pollution or Plague, his younger and more ambitious brothers. Mind you, that’s only one example. There are also tales of the great Adversary, the son of Satan, That one’s rather popular. There’s also various theories of nature getting sick of matters and punishing that little bastard called Man that has poisoned its waters and lands. Then there’s popular idea that we’d just wipe each other out in a series of nuclear wars, or by listening to too much Hanson. Or in the worst case humanity simply gets some sort of disease and we fade away, not with a bang, but with a whimper. Nowhere in any popular view of the final days of mankind is there a man named Jack. Which is a shame, because it means they all got it wrong…..

 

In sunny California, beneath a bright yellow shining orb in the less tasteful spiral of the galaxy, you can find a large building with large amounts of food and a large sign marked ‘Price Club’. Sometimes people wheel barrel-sized containers of things like rice and gummy bears out. Inside, it’s kept quite clean, and is a very tidy and organized way to disperse food to people who would starve to death without it. It’s a pleasant shopping experience.

 

Today, you can spot empty peanut shells on the ground, and discarded wrappers. Toothpicks a plenty are also here and there, and the occasional empty cereal bowl. If you follow the trail, you can see how it meanders here and there, but mostly sticks to the tables set at the ends of each aisle.

 

The free sample tables.

 

“More,” the man demanded.

 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” the poor supermarket lady asked, trying to shield her free cheese samples away from the psychotic madman.

 

“This is AMERICA!” the man ranted. “It’s my God given right to have as much free cheese as I want! There are surplus warehouses right now devoted to nothing more than the storage of cheese. If that’s not a tried and true use of my tax dollars, I don’t know what is. And you say that I have had enough cheese? MY GOD IN HEAVEN, WOMAN! Nobody will have enough cheese until all those supplies are depleted! Then, maybe, we can rest well at night without tossing in our sleep from the SHEER GUILT!”

 

“B-but, this isn’t government cheese,” she whimpered in reply. “It’s supermarket cheese.”

 

“Details, details,” the man shrugged, getting casual for a moment. “Fork it over.”

 

Let’s pause a moment here and examine this person. It’s actually just an optical illusion that one of his eyes is bigger than the other. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, with that constant suspicious glare, or just the funny way his neck works after years of banging his head against walls. He’s lanky and lean, but lanky and lean in the way that lanky and lean guys who really whip ass in fighting games are lanky and lean; not that he’s probably any good in a fight, but few people really want to make sure. His hair, which was probably combed with brillo and dried under a blowlamp, sticks straight up and out on his head, a wild and untamed bush of corn straw. He’s usually smiling, but has mastered the art of differentiating between a polite smile, an amused smile, a I Know More Than You smile, and a grinning evil death smile. Overall, he resembles some twisted incarnation of Puck from a VERY off-Broadway production of “Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

 

His name is Jack Lysias, also known as Controversial Jack. And he wanted his cheese.

 

***

[The following is not included in the audio.]

“Mr. Duck thinks I should get more cheese,” Jack said, holding out a small rubber duck for the supermarket lady to examine. “Don’t you, Mr. Duck?”

 

The bath toy squeaked.

 

“…that’s just a toy,” the lady said despondently.

 

Jack pulled Mr. Duck back in horror while saying. “You’re hurting his feelings! There there, Mr. Duck, she’s just ignorant and doesn’t know any better… she doesn’t know the wondrous things you have to say–”

 

With a frightened gesture of defeat, the lady shoved the whole tray of cheese blobs on little sticks forward. “Here! Take as much as you want!”

After this declaration she promptly ran to the manager’s office, scribbled ‘I Quit’ on his desk blotter and ran for the horizon.

 

“Woohoo!” Jack cheered, dumping the whole tray into his giant, economy sized Price Club burlap sack. “Another fine haul. Well! Let’s see what other free things we can get!”

 

The next table was offering free long distance service.

 

“Why bother? All the people who live away from me probably don’t exist,” Jack rationalized.

 

The table after that had Cheesy Poofs, which Jack felt complimented his preprocessed cheese blobs quite well, and performed the patented ‘Look, a three headed monkey’ routine in order to distract the merchant, and swipe as many as he could.

 

The next table offered free blood tests.

 

Jack stuck his hand inside the medical cuff and yelped when the six inch needle jammed through his arm. When the results proclaimed him to be drug free he had to argue with the examiner performing the test a bit that No, the machine was not broken and Yes, he always acted like this.

 

Mr. Duck vouched for him.

 

Given how much protest Controversial Jack’s digestive system was issuing at his consuming approximately 546 free samples in a one hour period, his next stop was going to be the bathroom. Unfortunately, he happened to spot something interesting at the next booth. But history still had one more chance, as his sister wheeled into view, driving a large motorized shopping cart that made that annoying  ‘BEEP’ sound when you put it in reverse.

 

“Jack!”  Jack’s sister, Anne Lysias called out, waving to him from behind a small mountain of shopping bags. “I think I’ve got enough food to last us until the next millennium!”

 

“That’s only a year or two away, unless there’s a massive conspiracy of calendar makers,” Jack said.

 

Let’s get one thing absolutely straight here — Anne is not like Jack. Sure, they share similar DNA because of the unfortunate coincidence of having the same mother and father, but Anne is not insane. She’s actually quite a nice girl provided you don’t make her angry, and never hears rubber ducks talking to her except once or twice but she denies the experiences quite wholeheartedly. Plus, the phrase “I am my brother’s keeper” applies to her in the same way zoo wranglers say things like “I am the Bengali tiger’s keeper.”

 

“Hey, food for a year is still impressive!” Anne noted, hopping down from the vehicle and tucking her Price Club hard hat under one arm. “Besides, don’t you even THINK about complaining. I’m the one who’s paying for all this, you jobless bum!”

 

“I do too have a job!” Jack retorted indignantly.

 

“Oh? What?” Anne asked before realizing she shouldn’t have.

 

“I am me, of course,” Jack explained. “The very process of being who and what I am is a twenty four hour a day job. You don’t get a break from a responsibility that big, no paid vacation leave, no dental plan! You’re THERE, constantly, ready to be Jack at a moment’s notice! I don’t have time to go dilly dallying around in the so-called Job Market when the vast reservoirs of energy needed to Helllllll-o, what’s this?”

 

History gave a sad sigh of regret, as Jack’s attention finally was attracted back to the desk he almost missed. He seemed to teleport from where he was to in front of the desk with that smile on his face, not through some arcane power, but simply by moving very fast.

 

“What’s the free sample at this table for?” he asked curiously.

 

“Free political campaign television advertising,” the bored looking clerk explained. “Congress mandated that to keep the playing field equal for all political parties, vouchers could be secured for paid airtime for candidates to advertise. If–“

 

“Hmmm… lot of perks on that job, right?” Jack asked.

 

“What job, sir?” questioned the clerk.

 

“President!!!” Jack said, posing dramatically with one fist on his hip and a hand cupping his chin. “Why, if I was president, I’d have free run of the Oval Office… of Martha’s Vineyards… of that secret room BEHIND the Oval Office… of the War Room… just THINK–“

 

“Let’s not think, okay?” Anne requested. “We’ve got to get home before the frozen goods melt, and we don’t have time for one of your crazy schemes!”

 

“Anne! I’m shocked!” Jack said. “Here I uphold the proudest, greatest institution in these here United States–“

 

“We could always send you BACK to the institution,” Anne commented dryly.

 

“–and you dare, nay, DARE to consider it a ‘crazy scheme’?” Jack asked. “Forsooth, sister of mine! And bite me. I’m a-signing up!”

 

Anne sighed in defeat. “Be out by the car in five minutes or I’m leaving without you, Jack,” she warned. “And I MEAN it.”

 

With that, Anne hauled herself back into the forklift like contraption, and steered her groceries on out of there, making wide right turns. Jack rubbed his palms together with feverish glee. “Okay, pal, I’m sold. Where do I sign? Do I need to pay with my soul or anything?”

 

“What is your political party?” the clerk asked, clicking a cheap Bic retractable to start filling out little checkboxes of questionable origin.

 

“Probably wild and involving a lot of kegs.” Jack said quickly.

 

“Pardon?” said the obviously confused clerk.

 

“Just mark me down as controversial,” Jack said. “I’ve always said a good politician is an honest one. Well, no. Technically I’ve always said a good politician is one thrown into the bay with lead weights tied around its feet. But you get the gist of my scope of reasoning.”

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