Archive | June, 2013

Madhere: Part Eight

30 Jun

(For parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, or Seven, click here.)

Meanwhile, at the Café, things were… degrading rapidly.

“It does not have cobwebs!” screamed Lilah. “My vagina has ladyparts, just like everyone else!”

“Oh please!” scoffed Nina. “We could put up a sign that says ‘this way to nunnery’ and nobody would notice a difference!”

Across the room, Merri leaned over the counter to Joe Washington. “Should we kick them out?”

“Nah.” yawned Joe. “We have catfight insurance, we’ll be fine.”

Merri frowned. “That’s… not a thing?”

Lilah slammed her ice cream down, which would probably have been more impressive if she hadn’t spilt it on herself. “That’s it! I am done with this crappy website and your crappy… crap face!”

Fine! I’m done too! And you suck at insults!” Nina began wheeling away.

Meanwhile, across the city, in the residence of one “Nina O’Brian”, a thought was hatched. An evil, vile, dastardly thought.

And said thought, naturally, belonged to one black cat, with a white spot over one eye and one white ear.

His name… was Shockingly Racist.

*insert dramatic music here*

And, with a yarn ball in one ha- er, “paw” and a fish in the other, Shockingly Racist engaged in an epic campaign of terror, the likes of which would be bemoaned by Miss O’Brian and her revolving door of suitors for generations.

Unfortunately, said “campaign of terror” was restricted entirely to “dismantle a spice rack” and “poop in a cookie jar”. But that didn’t stop Shockingly Racist from gossiping about his “campaign” to all the “hot kitteh bitches”.

(EDITOR’S NOTE: All references to “hot kitteh bitches” belongs entirely to the cat, and is not representative of this editor, this writer, this website, or this internet. Except, of course, for that one really creepy corner of the internet.)


Madhere: Part Seven

29 Jun

(For parts One, Two, Three, Four, Five or Six, check here.)

Having escaped the hypothetical background radiation of two females attempting to murder each other with their minds, Darren and Todd had to find the nearest safe location, namely one that ran entirely on sugary goodness in case a chocolatey countermeasure was required.

Fortunately, the local ice cream parlour was prepared for just such an occasion.

“So, what’s up with you and Lilah?” asked Todd as he helped himself to a hearty serving of fudge ripple.

“‘Up’? There is nothing ‘up’! I am so down, I’m fuckin’ with the mole people!” Darren rummaged through his wallet, searching for auxiliary ice cream funds.

“You bought her ICE CREAM. You’re wearing a SUIT. If it wasn’t for the fact that I already checked if you bleed acid, I’d swear you’ve been replaced by a doppleganger.” Todd licked his ice cream, in a manner that would surely be erotic if Todd was even slightly erotic.

“Hey, wasn’t you just here?” muttered the ice cream vendor as he handed Darren his Rocky Road. “Gettin’ ice cream with that purty red head? What, did’ya strike out with her and decided to try somethin’ a little more desperate?”

“Oi! I am not THAT desperate!” snapped Todd. “I’m ‘discount hooker’ desperate, not ‘hot gay sex’ desperate!”

“Those are some big words for somebody who specifically chose a career where they’re covered with sticky white stuff all day.” snapped Darren. “Now, feel free to admire my sweet ass as I saunter away, leaving you free to stick an ice cream cone up the ass of your fetid carcass the second you’re done fondling yourself.”

And they did, in fact, saunter away. It was very sassy.

“Okay, so you ARE in there! Threatening and homophobic, that’s the old Darren!” whooped Todd.

“Hey, jerk, I’m not homophobic!”

“I think my mind almost collapsed under the weight of that hypocrisy.”

Darren stared at his ice cream. “That’s not my thing any more!”

“Yeah, ever since you met Lilah, right? Which was… a day ago, actually. You really streamlined the whole ‘personality shift’ thing, huh?”

The two fell silent as they walked.

Todd sighed. “You do realize she’s gay, right?”

“I’m sorry, Todd, I can’t accept that.”

“What, you… can’t accept that people are gay? That is so intensely insane, I may have to stick this cone up your dick hole.”

Darren arched a single eyebrow. “No, I can’t accept a static sexual identity.”

“Oh. I… can’t decide if that’s better or worst.”

“Neither can I, actually.”

“So, you’re hoping her sexual identity is fluid so you can seduce her?”

Darren sighed. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Todd smiled. “Alright, man. Thanks for the ice cream. And don’t worry, I won’t tell her about this. I’m behind you, 100%.”

They continued walking in silence, finishing off their ice cream.

“You do realize this is going to explode in your face, right?”

“Oh, yeah, totally.”


Daily Riffed 5: It’s Like A Kind Of Torture To Have To Watch This Show

28 Jun

Let’s try something new, everybody: Making fun of somebody who doesn’t deserve it!

I know, I know, it’s such a radical new direction!

To be specific, I’m mocking those Daily Prompts that WordPress supplies to writers who can’t think of something to write. And apparently I enjoy making fun of people who are just trying to help and I’m all alone and nobody likes me and OH GOD, DEBBIE! I MISS YOU!

Yeah, I’ve been drinking. So what?

Tell us a moment or an incident that you treasure  – not necessarily because it brought you happiness, but because it taught you something about yourself. Photographers, artists, poets: show us LEARNING.

Jesus, what am I, an After-School Special?

“We’ll be right back, after these messages!”

Is there a painting or sculpture you’re drawn to? What does it say to you? Describe the experience. (Or, if art doesn’t speak to you, tell us why.) Photographers, artists, poets: show us ART.

Well sure, art “speaks” to me, but he’s always asking for booze money!

“Hey hey hey, Erik.”

“What is it, art?”

“Dude, I’m fresh out of vodka, but Sharron’s coming over, so if you could lend me a few-”

“Look, I’m tired of you coming over every five minutes and pretending- wait, who the hell is Sharron?!”

“She’s a friend of Debbie’s!”


Erm. Okay, that got away from me.

You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, or car? (Or something else entirely — bike? Hot air balloon?) Photographers, artists, poets: show us TRAVEL.

I travel entirely via 80’s music montages!

Do you belong in this day and age? Do you feel comfortable being a citizen of the 21st-century? If you do, explain why — and if you don’t, when in human history would you rather be? Photographers, artists, poets: show us MODERN.

The twist ending is that WordPress is actually FROM THE FUTURE!

Where do your morals come from — your family? Your faith? Your philosophical worldview? How do you deal with those who don’t share them, or derive them from a different source? Photographers, artists, poets: show us THE SOURCE.


Heh… heh heh… heh heh hah hah hah HAH HAH HAH HAH HAAAAAAAAAH!

Oh wait, you were serious? Okay, lemme laugh even harder.


We all have something we’d like to write about, but that doesn’t really “fit” our blog. Write it anyway. Photographers, artists, poets: show us MISFIT.

Fine, I’ll show you a “misfit”, but if you bring up the Island of Misfit Toys, I’m leaving.

"Nobody wants to play with a Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarlie in the box!"

“Nobody wants to play with a Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarlie in the box!”

If you could permanently ban a word from general usage, which one would it be? Why? Photographers, artists, poets: show us NO.


What? Look, I’m tired of people misspelling my name!

Tell us a joke! Knock-knock joke, long story with a unexpected punchline, great zinger — all jokes are welcome! Photographers, artists, poets: show us FUNNY.

You want a “joke”, eh? Nope, sorry. We ain’t got no jokes here. Maybe you want the place down the street?

Describe a moment of kindness, between you and someone else — loved one or complete stranger. Photographers, artists, poets: show us KINDNESS.

Well, there was that time the barista forgot to spit in my coffee! Ah yes, I’ll always remember that day. I call it, “Wait, Since When Do Drink Coffee?”.

Often, our blogs have taglines. But what if humans did, too? What would your tagline be? Photographers, artists, poets: show us ADVERTISING.

I’m fairly certain my “tagline” would just be one of those Biohazard stickers.

There we go.

Brad Pitt Is Our Only Hope?

27 Jun

I’m tired of doing those reviews on silly horror movies that nobody has ever heard of, so today, I’m reviewing a summer blockbuster: World War Z, baby! We’re running with the big boys now!

As well as the Beard boys, apparently.

Now, unlike most of my other reviews, I’m writing this completely by memory! Yeah, I’m not really used to reviewing/summarizing a movie when I don’t actually have it in front of me, so this should be interesting.

The movie starts with… ants? I think? Yeah, it was ants, intercut with credits and shots of humans doing, humany things.

(What do humans do, anyway? Does anyone know?)

Yeah, so then Brad Pitt… eats breakfast, I think. Then he… has awkward exposition? Then… he startles a witch?

That sounds about right!

Then he gets hit by a car, then he… gets called by the President for one… last… mission!

Sure… let’s go with that.

Then… he meets up with some people, and they shoot themselves in the face, and he meets a cute girl without an arm, so they commit 9/11 together… then the zombies become water and… he gives himself AIDS?

Wow, I have no idea how those “serious” reviewers do this crap! Remembering stuff is hard!

What Goes Around, Reviews Around: Part Three

26 Jun

One of the major cornerstones in most, if not all, major religions is the concept of “penance”. Well, in that case, you can form your own religion around me because I’m still reviewing that terrible fucking science fiction story I wrote!

PREVIOUSLY, ON BRIGHTER FUTURE: Our asinine, nameless protagonist and his childish partner Jane are trying to stop the second apocalypse via a hoard of zombified monsters coming out of the bowels of the earth!


““No. No, it is not.” I answered.”

Wait, so I cut off that last post mid-conversation?

I don’t really get smarter, it appears, I just find new mistakes to make.

““Well, let’s go. 2 apocalypses is my max.” sighed Jane.”

Well, technically, ONE apocalypse would be your max, therefore you want to stop the second one.

POINT: Erik!

And the crowd goes wild!

““Wait. You’re coming with me? I thought I was going alone.”

“Oh yeah,” said Jane sarcastically. “I am totally going to trust you to stop the second apocalypse, you clod.””

Jane, being a jackass doesn’t qualify as a personality.

(Trust me, I know.)

“She started to walk speedily towards the cave as the Sargent took his place back in the line.

“Um, Jane!” I sped up to catch up with her. “Could I have a gun?”

“No! I only got the one, and I called dibs.” To punctuate this point, she points her gun at the cave and fires on one of the Legionaries, a term I am determined to strong arm into popular parlance.”

Yeah, and it sounds more awkward every time you say it.

““Well, can I have the baseball bat? I could smash stuff, I’m pretty sure I’m good at that.””


“Jane sighed, “Fine.” and gave me the bat. I swung it experimentally a few times before strapping it to my back.

“There we go!” I said cheerfully. “Now that I have a baseball bat, I’m sure we can stop an infinite amount of zombies.”

A moment of silence passed.

“You never know. It could work.””

Knowing the terrible writing thus far, yeah, it probably could.

“Me and Jane walked slowly in to the cave, each step thumping against the ground. The air was musty and thick, and the walls were smooth. Well. They probably used to be smooth, but the Legion must have been chewing away at the walls for some time, because they were gnarled and twisted. After we walked for 10 minutes, we came to a split, with a path in each direction.”

A path in EACH direction? So, what? Left and right? Up and down? North, south, east, west? Straight and diagonal? Or, and this is just a theory, maybe it’s the worst descriptive sentence I’ve ever read in my life! Or hey, maybe the tunnel is fucking non-euclidean geometry!

Bad Writing: Not even once.

““Which way should we go?” She swivelled her gun between each path, trying to cover both. One path had been walked on recently, with footprints in the dirt, heading back to the entrance. The other had also been trodden on, but less recently and in the opposite direction.

“Okay, so one is going in the opposite direction so-””

I… okay, I have no idea what’s going on here. I think this “trying to accurately describe things” thing is just making things worse.

““Stop trying to get your goddamn Cub Scouts path-finding badge and get your bat.” said Jane under her breath.

I looked up. A Legionary was standing at the end of the second path, and looked like it was mentally licking it’s lips at the thought of eating us.

“You know,” I said weakly. “I’m pretty sure Cub Scouts don’t have a path-finding badge.””

Oh really, well, I’m sure you’re just a bevy of Cub Scouts information especially because YOU HAVE FUCKING AMNESIA.

“Suddenly, a second one appeared behind it.

And then, another one.

Another one.”

Then, Groucho Marx.

Admit it: You’d be scared too if he came at you in a dark tunnel.

““Run.” Jane pulled out her gun and fired at the oncoming hoard 3 times before she swore and turned to run.

We sprinted down the path, following the footsteps to where they had come from. As we went, we passed more paths and caves.

And more Legionaries piled out of these passing caves to join in the chase.

You know, this really isn’t going well.”

Aww, how cute! You’re reviewing the story for me!

“We passed more caves and pathways and how many fucking caves are there down here?!

There’s about as many caves as there are lampshades.

““Fuck this.” Jane spun on her heels, drawing her gun and and firing at the Legion.

“You know, a little warning would be nice!” I yelled as I drew my baseball bat. Great, I’m fighting an infinite hoard of zombie monsters with a stupid piece of wood. Next thing you know, I’m gonna have to fight Satan with a water gun.”

Jesus, you wisecrack more than a wizard saltine!

“A Legionary lunged at my head, and I swung at his skull. It connected with a crack, and the beast’s head flew off, while it’s bottom jaw stuck on.

That… that really shouldn’t happen.

“There’s something wrong here!” I screamed at Jane.

“Oh really? I haven’t noticed!” she screamed back as she shot one in the head before pistol whipping another one.

“They die too easily!”

“That’s a problem?!”

I swung again, but I didn’t aim for the head this time. I aimed for the kneecap, shattering his femur with a single swing.”

Because, as we all know, kneecaps and femurs are basically the same thing!


“The monster collapsed in to the ground, and it smashed it’s head on the ground.

“Yes, two kills!” I yelled as I readied another swing.

Jane fired through another one’s gut, and they spilled out over the cave. “Yes, 12 kills!”

“What?! Liar!”

“Wanna bet?”

Before I can deliver a scathing retort that I’m sure would have out her in her place, a Legionary managed to blindside and smash in to me.”

Oh, thank you thank you thank you THANK YOU, Mr. Legionary!

“I fell backwards smashed in to the ground, and we began to tumble down the path. With each impact, I let out a grunt of pain and the Legionary let out a rasp. We fell and fell and fell before finally coming to a stop against a wall.”

Every time this [Insert Inarticulate Rage Here] gets hurt, an angel gets his wings.

““RAHH.” the Legionary rasped and pressed against me. It’s teeth were bared and it’s face pulled in a grimace of anger.

I swung my head forward and it connected with the monster’s head with a “thunk”. It recoiled backwards and I followed it up with a kick to the face. It’s nose broke with an audible “snap”.”

Full disclosure: I think head-butting things is HILARIOUS.

““Hah! How do you like some head? Boo yah!” I looked up and saw my bat falling down the path towards me and monster as it started to get up.

“What are you on about? Is there gay sex down there?” shouted Jane down at me.”

Yeah, I’ve always thought gay sex jokes were funny.

(My apologies, Jeph Jaques.)

““Oh, shut up.” I finally grabbed the bat and smashed it down on the Legionary’s head, squishing it like a grape.

The stupid thing finally died. I took a deep breath and waited for Jane. Or her twisted corpse.

Either or.”

Hopefully the second one!

““Wee!” Jane yelled as she slid down the path. It took me a minute to realize that she was sliding down on a wave of corpse goo.

“That is disgusting. You do realize that you’re riding the liquified corpses of the Legionaries, right?” I asked.

“Oh, hush.” At the bottom, she leapt up and holstered her gun. “What’s that?””

Her “Jack Skellington” impression leaves much to be desired.

“I turned around, and I saw what she was talking about. When we fell, me and the monster hadn’t hit a wall. We’d hit a door.

A vault door, covered in claw marks and scratches. And, in the centre of the vault door, was the numbers 108.

“I’m going to make a wild guess and say that that’s a door.””

Well, actually, it’s a “Fallout 3” expy. But, hey, close enough!

““Can we get it open, smart-ass?” Jane asked as she walked up and started to tap on it.

“Probably not. The Legion must have been trying to get in, and that’s where the claw marks came from.” I said as Jane continued to tap the door and the walls.

“Could this be where they’re coming from?”

“Maybe, but they are probably using a different door. Other wise, why would they need to get in- look, will you stop that?!” I snapped as she kept tapping.

“Hey, you never know. It could work.” No sooner had she said that did the rock on the wall she was tapping fall off, revealing a large button.”

Oh, I LOATH this story.

“”Oh, shut up.” I said as Jane laughed her ass off. I reached over and tapped the button, which caused the door to slowly slide open.

“Aw, I was hoping I’d get to use my grenades.” pouted Jane.

“What?! You brought grenades? Why?”

“You never know when you need to blow something up.”

The door opened, and we stepped in to the field of the dead.

Corpses lined the floor, empty and desecrated. Blood, waste, guts and corpses paint the floor.

The walls and ceiling are dull and grey, and the walls have finger marks, as though the people inside were trying to get out.

In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what happened.”



“I turned to Jane. “Are you gonna vomit?”

She whispered back. “No. But I am gonna have to shoot something soon.”

As we walked in to the room, we noticed more facts. For example, all of them were the same.

The same man, the same woman. Blond hair, tan and all of them in the same jump suit. The same one the Legionaries were wearing.

On the other side of the room was a door, surrounded by corpses. The door itself has heavy set, and nothing short of a rhino could get it open. And we were all out of rhinos.”

Sure, but you have terrible jokes to spare.

“I stepped forward, trying desperately to ignore what I was stepping on.

“Don’t do it!” said Jane.

“I was just going to knock.”

“It might be dangerous.”

“It might not be.”

Jane sighed. “Fine, but if you die, I am making fun of you.”

“Duly noted.””

Aww, how cute! You’re pretending to have a personalities!

“I stepped forward to the door and knocked four times.

A moment passed.

Then another.

“Maybe they’re asleep?” I suggested lamely.

Suddenly a voice barked over the intercom. A girl. “Who or what are you?! How did you get the vault door open?! WHY ARE YOU HERE-”

“Whoa, calm down, girly!” said Jane. “We found the button. Under a rock. It was… insulting simple, really. Kind of anticlimactic.”

“Is the statue talking? How is that possible?” a man’s voice came out of the intercom.

“Oi! Did that fucker just call me a statue?!””

Hey, “how is that possible” is the first legitimate question I’ve heard all day.

““Now it’s swearing! How strange.” said the female voice.

“Look!” I tried to get the conversation back on track. “Can we come in? We have a couple of questions, and it’s kind of smelly in here.”

“Do you promise not to stay? We’re… kind of taxed right now.” said the man.

“Sure.” I shrugged.

“Also, your statue has to stay outside.” the female added.

“Stop calling me a statue! I will stick my gun where the sun won’t shine.” Jane waved her gun around to emphasize the point.

“What would you preferred we called you? Rocky? Garden gnome? Ooh, I know. Glorified sex toy.” the girl mocked over the intercom.”

That girl is my new favourite character.

“Jane leaned in close. “I’ll stay here.”

“Are you sure?” I whispered back.

“If you take me along, I am going to shoot that bitch in the face and I am pretty sure that that would mess up our relations somewhat.”

“Fair enough.”

I stepped forward as Jane stepped back. The door slowly opened.

Revealing a crowd of men and women.

The men were the same as the corpses in the room, and so were the women.

All the same.

“Hello!” chirped the crowd. “Welcome to the Brighter Future Project!”

“I’m Billy!” said all the men in unison.

“And I’m Sally!” said all the women in unison.


“This is going to be a long day.” I muttered under my breath.”

Hey, look! An obvious stopping point randomly put in by the author!

Freshly Riffed 38: And When It’s Time To Go To Bed, I’m Still Awake Inside My Head

25 Jun

Welcome back to Freshly Riffed, the only web series with intense racism instead of a comment section!

I kid, of course! The odds of anybody entering my comment section is laughable!

According to the shadowy web-master I keep chained up in my server room, Freshly Riffed is where I make fun of the titles of Freshly Pressed blog posts. Also, I forget, do I need to feed web-masters?

Each title will be linked to the original author, and remember; All mockery is for mockery’s sake only.


My Top 12 Picks For The 12th Doctor: Wait, seriously? Did Doctor Who fan wank seriously make it on Freshly Pressed?

Well, I guess it’s time to change my name to “A Very Timey Wimey Place”.

This Is The Cry Of My Heart: My heart doesn’t cry, it just hums Eye Of The Tiger on repeat.

A Box Inside A Box: … Inside a box inside a box inside a box inside a box inside Newt Gingrich.

Don’t Be A Sexist Pig: A PSA: “Old McDonald had a heavy handed message, EEE EYE EEE EYE OHH.”

Finding Your People: Have you checked between the couch cushions?

Is This Failure: Is this failure… is this just fantasy!

The Come To Hell Special: It comes with a Styxian Milkshake!

The Woman Who Used To Be Me: Yeah, dopplegangers are a bitch.


Haiku To Mars: Red dust paints the sky.

Okay, maybe it doesn’t.

Is that how Mars works?

V/H/S: The (Obsolete) Ultimate Evil

24 Jun

Another day, another half of the found footage anthology film that I couldn’t finish reviewing in one day! That’s right, it’s time to polish off V/H/S! 

THE STORY SO FAR: A gang of rowdy thieves have broken in to a house, found an old man’s corpse, and are currently trying to find a mysterious V/H/S tape. And while they’re doing that, we get to watch each V/H/S, which makes up the segments of this film!

And no, they do not explain why everyone in this movie has such a fucking fetish for V/H/S! Apparently outdated recording formats are “a thing” in this universe.

If there are any V/H/S enthusiasts in the audience, then I must sorely inform you that you’re enthusiastic about the dumbest fucking things.

After a quick check in with the morons looking for the tape (and establishing that the dead old guy is officially AWOL), we start our next segment! Four teenagers are driving out for a country retreat, summarily establishing their stock horror movie stereotypes. ALL RIGHT, TIME FOR THE ROLE CALL!


Look, I’m just happy that the only important character ALSO ends with a ‘Y’.

It appears Wendy is taking her three friends to her “special retreat”, and the three of them do stereotypical teenage things! You know, talk about boobs, drugs, swears, and their imminent deaths. (Yeah, that last bit was Wendy. FORESHADOWING, OFF THE PORT BOW!)

As they go, their camera gets glitched over and over again, which shows them a series of mangled corpses. You know, your standard forest accessories.

Wait, does that only happen to me?

They stop by a lake, force Dweeby to take a hit of… drugs, apparently (LOOK I’M NOT UP TO DATE ON MY DRUG SLANG, YO), and Wendy reveals that she saw her friends killed by this lake.

Hah hah! Just joking! (Except not.)

Jocky takes a dive in the lake, and feigns drowning. This angers Slutty and Dweeby enough to storm off and practice her dance routine. Suddenly, everything starts glitching up, and a glitch man with a red head whips a knife through her eye! Dweeby tries to run but- BAM! You done been glitched through the facehole!

Ooh, yesssss. It’s Glitches versus Bitches!

Wendy runs over, picks up the camera, and heads back to the lake. She says “hi” to Jocky and asks him to “fuck her brains out”. Unfortunately for her, Jocky has more than one brain cell, and demands an explanation.

Aw, darn, I was hoping for another random sex scene! Oh well, I can at least listen to Wendy explain how these guys were all bait for the Glitch, and then watch as Jockey gets his throat slit. It’s kinda like sex!

Wendy sprints away, with the Glitch in hot pursuit, when he walks straight in to a net she had set up, and then a bear trap. Unfortunately, she decides to walk as close as humanly possible to him so he knives her in the gut.

You SO deserved that.

Why, exactly, did you think that was a good idea?

As Wendy shambles away, she instructs the camera to “never come here”, which would be very good advice if Possesio ever picks it up. A glitchy Jocky wanders by, just so he can fall over. Did he think there was a mattress over there?

The Glitch walks over, ready to end this segment with a knife to the face, but walks right in to another booby trap! And not the fun kind, either!

(The fun kind is a trap with a ball pit.)

Wendy walks a little closer, to get a look at the skewered monster, when she turns around and- OH FUCK! He has the power of off-screen teleportation! He immediately starts caving in her skull with the camera and disembowelling her! This girl could not be any deader if she was my self respect!

The Glitch wanders off, and Wendy starts wiggling around and making screechy noises, Maniac style.

Back at the house, the old dead guy is back, but the “Actually-Doesn’t-Really-Look-Like-Waluigi” guy is gone, and a new schmoe takes over viewing duties.

The next segment starts off as… a Skype conversation?


Anyway, a woman and her doctor friend are talking, with her stripping naked, presumably because the director realized that “Ten minutes have gone on and nobody has shown their tits?! AHHHHHHHHHHH”.

She’s talking about how her apartment is haunted, and how she has a weird lump on her arm, and I’m noticing that she has weird breasts and what a sad state of affairs I’m in that I have to start reviewing people’s tits!

The following evening, the girl is convinced that the ghosts are right outside her door, to which the doctor friend responds with dull surprise. Jesus, you couldn’t get a good performance after this guy if you searched for it with both hands.

Just as the girl, Emily, starts giving some background information… SUDDENLY OH MY GOD A LITTLE KID RUNS THROUGH THE ROOM.

You know, the footie pajamas kinda detract from all the hypothetical “scariness”.

And that’s not helping.

The next morning, Emily complains about the lump in her arm while

The following evening, Emily hears more noises, and instinctually reaches for her Skype buddy so they can investigate. As her and the computer wander through the house, she grabs a camera to use the “flash” to see, instead of… turning the light on?

This woman has the intelligence of A GRAPE FRUIT. 

The little kid ghosts say “boo”, and the next morning (if I have to say that one more time, I’m shoving this movie up it’s own ass), Emily is discussing the fact that nobody has ever died in her apartment with the doctor. Oh, and while she’s doing all this, she’s digging at the lump in her arm with a knife and a barbecue fork.

I apologise to all the grape fruits of the world.

This is a barbecue fork, by the way.

The following evening (GODDAMMIT) Emily hears some more paranormal activity in the living room, and has come up with the genius idea of… walking around with her eyes closed, holding out the laptop so the doctor can watch for the ghosts?

I’m going to assume you know why that’s stupid and move on.

The doctor finally spies some ghosts, who scream out a healthy burst of static and knock Emily down for the count. Suddenly… the doctor walks in the front door and starts extracting an alien fetus from her? And that lump in her arm turns out to be a tracking device? And it turns out the ghosts are aliens? And that the doctor is in on the scam to use Emily as an incubating device and then wipe her memory of the whole ordeal? And that there are actually a whole group of women that the doctor does this to?

Damn, this segment downright M. Night Shyamalan’d my ass!

Back at the thieves, the old corpse is gone once again, and so is the guy watching the tapes. Our last remaining thief picks up a camera, and starts searching for his friends, and he does, if by “friends” you mean “decapitated corpse of one of the thieves and the zombified old man”.

The old man chases him down the stairs, where he breaks his leg and gets eaten. Then… oh come on! The next tape starts playing? Just let it end! The movie’s over! Just let the damn movie end!

Sigh. Okay, one more segment.

A guy dressed in a giant bear costume with a camera in the head, joins up with his friends Pirate King, Modern Soldier, and the Unabomber to heat to a “rocking” Halloween party. And on their way there, they get stopped by a train. Ah, yes, I think they call this “The Foreshadowing Express”.

Once they reach the party, they discover that all the doors are locked and nobody is home. So, clearly they check their directions again- oh, wait, I mean they break in. OUR PROTAGONISTS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!

They see some flickery lights, a creepy girl wandering around, and we even get some hands reaching through walls… off screen, of course, because why would we want to see that? And no, out heroes don’t TAKE A FUCKING HINT and leave. Urgh, stupid decisions in horror movies make my head hurt.

Get me my headache pills. They’re in the jar labelled “Why Would You Think That’s A Good Idea”.

Bear Man wanders in to a bed room, sees your industry standard spooky girl, gets locked in, and then wanders out. Because, that’s why. (Seriously, I am running out of “snarky becauses”.)

The group heads upstairs, where they see four old guys exorcising… Anneliese?! BEST CROSSOVER EVER.

Anyway, the morons try to help by chanting along with the cultists, which makes Anneliese toss them in to the rafters with her bitchin’ demonic powers! Damn, I wish I had powers like that. It’d make doing the dishes so much easier!

The group runs away, but heads back upstairs to “save” Anneliese from the exorcism. You guys… you guys haven’t seen any of my reviews, have you? PALE GIRLS ARE ALWAYS A BAD IDEA.

One more of the cultists gets tossed in to the rafters (seriously, where do those guys keep going?), and the group carries Anneliese through the house. The special effects team definitely has fun here, as the demon makes hands grow out of the walls, doors fly off hinges, hand prints appear on walls, doors to shrink in to nothing, things to fly across the room, sudden stacking, and random birds. Basically, they run through every ghost cliché.

I have the weirdest boner right now.

They manage to get her out, and hop in the car to take her to the hospital to treat Anneliese’s stab wound. And suddenly… the car stops.

Ooh, that is rarely a good sign.

Anneliese disappears suddenly, and reapears outside, to a hearty chorus of “what the fuck”. She starts strutting away from the car, and the group turns to the side and… hey look. A train.

I guess you don’t have to worry about heading in to the light, because that light is fucking coming to you!

Our protagonists end up in itty bitty pieces, and the movie immediately leaps in to the ending credits, complete with a song that completely ruins the mood.

(Be warned, this montage DOES feature boobs. Do not watch if you have delicate sensibilities, or just hate boobs, you mad, mad bastard!)

(Wait, is this seriously the first time I’ve featured boobs on this site? Huh. Weird.)

And that is V/H/S, and what’s interesting is that all of my problems with the movie have nothing to do with the fact that it’s found footage. All of it’s problems are the problems you’d find in a normal movie! You know, unlikeable characters, no proper conclusions, shameless T&A, bizarre soundtrack, awful pacing, unlikeable characters, stupid decisions, and unlikeable characters.

(Seriously, they were REALLY unlikeable.)

But hey, it has great special effects (especially in the first and last segments), decent writing, and with four segments, plus the wrap-around stuff with the thieves, you’re bound to find something you like.

Huh. I… I was really hoping to hate this.

Now I’m sad.

Seriously, Does Anybody Even Use V/H/S?

23 Jun

It… was a dark and stormy night…

Sorry, but it actually IS dark and stormy right now, and I figured, “when the hell else will I get to say that?”.

Anyway, I have to interrupt our diatribe on my own stupidity to bring you a look at something we in the reviewing industry call “Too Good A Target To Pass Up”. It’s called V/H/S, and it’s a found footage film.

Oh, I’m sorry, it’s not a found footage film! It’s a found footage anthology film. Composed out of found footage. And the space in between the found footage is, you guessed it, more found footage. And the poster? Five guesses to what that is.

MORE FOUND FOOTAGE! Oh, this is truly a glorious day for pattern recognition.

Yeah, you can see why I had to review this.

The film opens with a collection of glitches, bad graphics, and blurry shots of cars. Eventually this mellows out, and we see a bunch of mouth breathers with stupid hats and bandannas over their mouths, molesting some woman in a parking garage. Cue boob shot!

You really wanted to get your mandatory “T&A” done pretty fast, didn’t you?

After they run away, we cut to them destroying a house with giggling malice and baseball bats. They do this for about three minutes, while the director desperately humps the screen and yells “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO LIKE THESE GUUUUUUYS”.

Next up, we cut to two people making out and undressing, with all the passion of me trying to scratch a mosquito bite. Then we cut to the resident morons watching the video of their molestation and talking about selling the video to a porn company. Oh yeah, because I’m sure there’s a BIG MARKET for “blurry V/H/S videos of some woman’s bosom”.

Oh, what am I talking about, there’s totally a market for that.

There's a market for EVERYTHING. Even me.

There’s a market for EVERYTHING. Even me.

Next, we cut to them driving to a house, where their mission is to break in and steal one V/H/S tape, and possibly sell it online. Okay, I refuse to believe that somebody who knows about the existence of the internet would spend this much time worrying about fucking V/H/S tapes!

One day, the director is going to discover “DVDS” and they are going to BLOW. HIS. MIND.

The gang breaks in and wanders around, before finally finding a jump sca- er, I mean, “the plot”. In a room filed with static TVs, the man who owns the house lies dead.


THAT can’t be good.

They begin searching through the tapes inside the static TV, and that leads to our first segment. A trio of 20 somethings are standing around, congratulating themselves on building “video glasses”, glasses that record everything one sees, and is somehow unnoticeable by anyone who looks at them.

Gosh, that’s a cool thing for a bunch of guys to make, but you know what would make it cooler? Well, maybe IF THEY CONVERTED THE FILM INTO ANY OTHER FUCKING FORMAT THAN V/H/S!


Literally any other format would have been better! Put it on fucking vinyl if you think that’ll help!

The Three Douchekateers have created these incredibly pointless glasses for a single reason; to record boobs. No, seriously, that’s there mission statement. To hook up one of the prats with glasses, then get him laid. Do… do people generally wear glasses during sex? Is that a thing now? And if it isn’t a thing, could we call it “The Clark Kent-her”?

After hitting a couple of clubs, they finally manage to connect with a group of women as morally bankrupt as they are. In their numbers includes a girl who could not be more obviously a monster if she was humming “The Monster Mash” every time she was on screen.

She has the eyes of Marty Feldman, the blank expression of Kristen Stewart, and the only thing she manages to say to our “protagonist” (god, that word feels dirty in my mouth) is “I like you”.

Why do I have the feeling that her version of “like” is closer to our version of “hollow out and plant eggs inside of”?

This has little to do with the “eggs” thing, I just like Marty Feldman.

The party continues, but with these people, I have trouble telling the difference between “having a good time” and “oh god, oh god, we’re all gonna die”. They get ejected from the club, and head off to a motel. So… how long until Monster Girl tears all their lungs out? Because, really, that’s what I’m here for.

At the motel, Monster Girl (with a very conspicuous line down her face) starts hissing at Drunk Friend One while Drunk Friend Two tries to boink in the background. Unfortunately, his paramour has had roughly enough alchohol to pickle a bull elephant and passes out.

Drunk Friend Two is rather understandably irritated, but, less understandably, he tries his luck with the Monster Girl. Okay, don’t lie, this is just a porn, isn’t it? You guys just tricked me in to reviewing a porn!

Drunk Friend Two pulls off her dress, revealing two things: her clearly demonic feet, and her boobs. (He’s really only interested in one.) Once naked, she flips positions with Drunk Friend Two so she’s on top, and she starts giving the camera man a… a handjob, while… Drunk Friend One pulls off his clothes to join the fun and…

This just got…



I KNEW I made this picture for a reason!

Our camera man flees to the bathroom, where he stops to take a breath. This is interrupted when Drunk Friend One bursts in to the room, bleeding from where Monster Girl bit him. Upon being confronted with this, Monster Girl responds the way I think we all would: tearing Drunk Friend Two in to little alcohol soaked pieces!

Dammit, I used the “dangerously erotic” card too early.

The Two Douchekateers (they’re going to have to change all their business cards) hide in the bathroom, grab a curtain rod as a weapon, and get ready to fight their way out. Now the Monster Girl is standing in the middle of the room, practiscing her “stereotypical horror girl yoga” before finding out how many licks it takes to get to the centre of a Drunk Friend One pop.


The camera manages to crawl out, and starts sprinting down the stairs to freedom… which proves to be a problem when he trips and snaps his wrist. Wait, his WRIST?! That’s not an integral part of running! Keep going, you sissy!

Unfortunately, he didn’t take my advice, which leaves him at the mercy of Monster Girl. She shows off her cool monster face, and starts crying when he says she doesn’t like her. Aw, so this was really a love story? A better love story than Twilight, that’s for damn sure!

Now THAT’S a face only a mother could love.

He manages to make it outside, and almost escapes… but it turns out that Monster Girl was hiding a bit more than an excellent forehead ridge. Wings, for instance. And this segment finally comes to abrupt halt, when the glasses fall off our protagonist, mid-flight.

Darn, I was hoping to see the wedding! You know, I always thought those crazy kids should elope.

We cut back to our band of thieves, looting the house, and for some reason nobody feels like bringing up the whole “naked demon murderer” thing. While wandering the basement, they encounter a random naked guy walking around. Good god, what does this movie have with NAKED PEOPLE?!

The next segment begins with a girl, sitting in the car, and introducing what she’s filming to the camera. Basically, road trip film. They find a nifty smashed up car, and some other pointless knickknacks that one would film whilst on a road trip. Including a donkey.

(So the first segment had tits, and this one has asses?! Seems fair!)


(I’ll let myself out.)

I’ll have my things packed by morning.

NoName and her boy-toy, Sam, wander an “Ol’ West Town”, where they find a fortune telling prospector model. He dispenses some foreshadowing, and is sadly bereft of genuine frontier gibberish.

At their hotel room, Sam is recording NoName as she gets dressed, and… darn, we almost made it ten seconds without pointless tits! We almost hit a new record for this movie!

NoName is, understandably reluctant to let him film her naked, when the door suddenly starts knockin’. They are, of course, filled with terror about this fact. Because doors are scary.

After some mumbled dialogue and some chaotic cuts, Sam explains to the camera that a creepy college girl came to the door, asking for a ride. So, should we start the betting on what she’ll turn out to be? I’m puttin’ five bucks on “Old Ghost Friend Of NoName”!

Any takers? Any takers?

The two go to sleep, everything fades to black, when all of a sudden the camera turns back on. We see that neither NoName or Sam is holding it, which clearly means… that it’s Possesio, patron saint of floating electronics!

Either that or the darkness from Alan Wake is fucking with you.

Our mystery camera man/woman, pulls down the blanket and reveals NoName’s butt, which makes this the second ass of the segment! Possesio pulls out a switch blade and runs it along NoName’s ass, until he decides to go steal some money from Sam. Yeah, some times Possesio has to steal to feed his crack habit.

Possesio sneaks in to the bathroom and sticks one of the toothbrushes in to the toilet. Oh, so this is the great ghost of pettiness!

Sam and NoName start driving along, and arguing about the lost money, an argument that could be easily rectified by just looking at the recording, but the day a character in a found footage film starts acting normally is the day this genre dies.

The two start crawling around rocks, spying an awesome looking canyon, have their picture taken, hear a woman talking on a cell phone, and generally do a bunch of things that aren’t even a little bit scary.

(Not even a little.)

The two go to bed, and lo and behold, Possesio comes out to play! He/she/it is apparently tired of the crappy pace so far, and stabs Sam in the throat. Then… it turns out Possesio was NoName’s secretly lesbian lover!

Then we cut back to the den of thieves, where the guy watching this appropriately screams “What the fuck was that?!”

My thoughts EXACTLY, Guy-Who-Looks-Like-Waluigi.


And, that’s the end of… actually, wait, it’s about the half way point for this movie?! How fucking long IS this movie?! And unless I’ve got a goddamned time turner, there is no way I can finish this movie tonight!

So. Um. Come back tomorrow, I guess?


What Goes Around, Reviews Around: Part Two

22 Jun

Welcome back to the web series with the terrible name: What Goes Around, Reviews Around! This is where we take a look at the terrible science fiction short story I wrote, Brighter Future, and mock- I mean, “review” it!

I like to think of it as a form of penance. I hate everything else till it’s nothing more but a blob of hate filled mucous, so it’s only fair that somebody does the same to me.

THE STORY SO FAR: Our nameless protagonist tried desperately to hammer comic relief in to the apocalypse, he got chased by a bunch of ill-thought out monsters, and amnesia doesn’t work that way.

According to Google Images, THIS is how amnesia works! Wait, what?


“I woke up with a start, thinking a million thoughts a minute before I managed to slow down and give myself a proper inventory.”

And… do you feel like sharing those million thoughts with us?

No? You’re not in the mood for character development?


Okay. Carry on.

“I’m awake. That’s good. I’m alive. That’s even better. I’m completely naked. That’s not so good. I’m handcuffed to a chair. That’s pretty bad.”

Also on the list of “things that are pretty bad” is “your sentence structure”.

“I looked around the room, trying to see where I was. It was bare and steel, with one door. The door is probably locked, but it won’t be a problem ’till I manage to figure out a way to disintegrate metal handcuffs.”

Yeah, it turns out that this guys superpower is “Being Able To Judge Whether Or Not Things Are Locked From Across The Room”.

It rarely, if ever, comes in handy.

“The door opened in the middle of my ingenious escape plan (that mostly consisted of sitting perfectly still in the middle of the room) and 3 rock people walked in.”

‘Rock people’? That’s racist.

“One was SOL, who still looked angry, Jane, who was trying desperately not to laugh, and a man, who looked like the literal interpretation of the phrase “rocky road”.”

Is… is that actually a phrase people say? Or did you just feel like name dropping an ice cream flavour?

“If Jane looked smooth and SOL looked blocky, this man looked like a statue that somebody had trodden on. Half his bottom jaw was missing, his face had chunks missing here and there and he was missing his left hand.

He stood there, looking me up and down for a few moments before speaking.

“Why doesn’t he have any pants?”

I burst out laughing and Jane’s face darkened as she looked away, embarrassed.”

Look, if laughing at your own jokes is bad form, having your characters do it is castration worthy.

Ooh, I’m going to regret saying that.

“Hee hee hee.”

“The man shook his head a few times before speaking again. “You are human.” 

“Yes, I am. And you guys are rock people, the world’s a wasteland and I have amnesia. A little help, please!””


““I am sorry, I didn’t realize. My name is Collins, and I am an elder here.” said the man. “This is Jane and this is Sol.”

“Wait. Her name is actually Sol?”

“Yes. Why?” asked Collins.

“That’s what I’ve been calling her in my internal monologue.””

And in my internal monologue, I’ve been calling you “[Insert Inarticulate Rage Here]”.

““Internal what?”

“Never mind.””

Asshole, you can’t just back-out of your crummy jokes.

(Trust me, I know.)

Backing out of ill thought out jokes is A Very Strange Place tradition!

“Collins sighed before continuing his story. “The world underwent a calamity. A bomb or a missile or hell, maybe it was magic.” He lent against a wall and looked tired, worn down and very, very old.

“It destroyed the land, and perverted all life. Almost nothing is the same. All humans have been changed or killed. Us, we became like rock. We call ourselves Golems.”

Collins gestured to Sol. “Some become tougher and larger. Some, like myself, became brittle and warped. Some, like Jane, became-”

“Nubile and sexy?” I suggested. Jane covered her mouth as she tried not to laugh.”

(Actually, a little behind the scenes info: The “calamity”? Was going to be a terraforming device gone wrong, hooked up to the main character. That’s why he got amnesia: He actually DIDN’T, it’s just that when the device recreated the world, it did everything that he wanted to… including make a new version of himself, who is whom we’re following right now. No amnesia, the world just didn’t exist until the beginning of this story.)

(And later on, he’d meet the older version of himself who set the terraforming device off, and discover that he was a jackass. Well, more of a jackass. And the old one made this one to be his ideal version.)

(So… this guy? Yeah, he’s basically an “in-universe” Mary Sue.)

(Suddenly my intense hatred of him makes sense.)

Urgh, I feel so dirty now.

Collins frowned, causing dust to rain from his forehead, as he leaned in close.

“We have been in war with the Packlings since day one. Supplies are low and monsters attack us from within the camp itself everyday.” He whispered in my ear.

“And then a human shows up. Maybe the last one. Why should I let you live?”

And then I realized that, despite his missing hands and crackling skin, this man was a threat.

A serious one.”

No. No he is not. You cannot make a serious threat out of an old man who crumbles when he frowns. You might as well introduce the new bad guy, “Captain NoBones”.

““You know,” I whispered back. “I think much easier when I don’t have some old crumbling man spreading dust on my penis.””

Really? Damn, because you really seem in to that.

“Collins shot back, with rage on his face.”

Ooh, is he shooting now? Me, oh my, bloody Christmas has come early!

““What was that about monsters?” I asked him brightly. “I could help with that.”

Collins turned to leave. “Kill him.””

Wait, lemme get popcorn first!

““Wait!” I shouted at him. “I would honestly prefer not to die.”

Collins froze at the doorway.”

Is that seriously all it takes to get somebody not to murder you? Damn it, I should try that.

I… I make a lot of enemies.

“Jane turned towards him at the same time. “I would honestly prefer not to shoot him.”

“How about you, Sol?” I asked her.

“I’m good either way.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

Collins turned towards me again. “So, you still haven’t answered my question. Why should I let you live?””

You shouldn’t. Can we go yet?

“My mouth began to talk without actually checking in with my brain. “You said monsters were attacking from within the camp. Guns probably aren’t working, otherwise Jane probably would have solved the problem by now.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” said Jane as she twirled her revolver.

“You’d get a bigger vote if I still had my pants.” I turned back to Collins. “Guns aren’t working, so you need brains. I have brains, so you can send me to fix the problem. Even if I die, you won’t have lost any of your people.”

Collins stood and thought for a moment.

“I like that plan. I’m glad I came up with it. Jane? Unlock the handcuffs. And get him some pants.””

Full Disclosure: This was the exact moment I realized I hadn’t actually come up with a plot yet.

First drafts? What’s that?!

This is the kind of thing I write drunk.

“One hour later, I was walking through town square, almost entirely less naked. The guards had managed to save my pants from the Packlings, including a pocket watch I didn’t even know I had, but I prefer not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Even better, Jane had given me her “formal” dark blue duster. When I asked why, she said “It’s not bulletproof. In fact, I think it even speeds up bullets”.”

And by “pocket watch you didn’t even know you had”, you mean “the writer suddenly made it up on the spot”.

“The town was named Quarry, which Jane told me was ironic. It was comprised of tents, mobile homes and anything else the Golems could scavenge. It had around 100 people and was getting bigger every day.”


“While Jane was telling me this, I was enjoying a delicious Packling sandwich, which was apparently made of the one that tried to kill me last night. And, let me tell you, NOTHING is more delicious then the barbequed flesh of something that just tried to kill you. It is vengeance-licious.”

Don’t ask me how I know that.

““Hey, Jane?” I asked between mouthfuls. “What’s this problem?”

“It’s at the base of the mountain, I’ll have the Sargent explain it.”

“Why? Does he know more than you?”

“No. I’m just lazy and I don’t want to tell you.””


Sorry, I just have an allergy reaction to terrible writing.

Suddenly, gunfire sounded from the mountain base and we broke in to a run.”

Hey look! The plot!

“A line of soldiers stood in front of a sloping cave, leading down in to the earth. The Sargent that Jane had spoken of was fairly obvious, as he was the one with the kick ass beret. Keep that in mind: all authority figures can be determined by their fancy hats.

“With obvious exceptions.” I muttered, looking at Jane and, in specific, her hat.”

Okay, I actually like this part.

““Hush. Violence happening now. Talk latter.” she said without looking at me.”

I take that back. ‘Talk latter‘? Fuck you, spell check!

“And violence was indeed happening. Out of the cave came a creature, shambling and crawling toward the line. It could hypothetically be called a “human” if it had any skin. It wore a blue jump suit and that’s all I managed to see before it disappeared under a hail of bullets.

“God, was it wearing a jump suit? Who would ever wear one of those tacky things?” asked Jane. She had switched out her jump suit from the previous night for leather body armour, which completely ruined the joke I was about to make.”

And here I was thinking that the “least likeable character” awards were all wrapped up, but Jane is making a valiant effort nonetheless!

““Ah, Jane and Fleshy Guy! I heard you were coming.” said the Sargent. He, as with all of the soldiers in the line, wore heavy black body armour. I ignored him and ran up to examine the corpse. It was definitely human, but it was wrong. It was… sticky?

“Better back up. It’s melting.”

And it was. Not only was the fleshy and bone melting, the suit was as well.

That… shouldn’t happen.”

Why, thank you, [Insert Inarticulate Rage Here], nobody here was aware that BONES DO NOT MELT.

You’re taking a brilliant stand in the field of DUH.

“I looked up to tell Jane this when another monster ran up towards me. I heard it rasping at me as it leaned forward to strike me.”

I’d really preferred if he was rapping instead.

“Suddenly it’s head rocked back as a bullet ripped through it’s skull. It fell to the ground, twitching for a moment or two before dying.

“Hah!” yelled Jane. “Saved your life again!””

You know, this story has so many options of killing this fucker, and it’s not taking advantage of any of them!

“I ignored her and went up to the second corpse. I examined it as much as I could before it melted away, just the same as the last one. I stood up and walked towards Jane and the blocky Sargent as they discussed their personal lives. “We have a problem.” I said as the rest of the line shot another monster that came from the depths.”

I smell a ploooooot point!

““This monsters- okay, wait a second.” I sighed. “Sargent, what do you call these things? I am getting really damn tired of just referring to these things as monsters.”

“What do you mean? You’ve only referred to them once.” asked Jane quizzically.

“I mean in my inner monologue.””


“Wait. What?!”

“Shut up! What do you call them!”

“We call them Zombies.” said the Sargent as he looked back at the cave. “It seemed fitting.”

“Well, you better start calling them Legion, for they are many.” I said with a grimace.”

Sweet pretentious literary reference, Batman!

“Jane arched an eyebrow. “So you can’t remember your name, but you can remember a Bible verse?””

Preach it, sister.

““Look!” I waved my arms in an attempt to seem more serious. “I checked both, and they have the exact same skeletal structure and jumpsuit. They are the same, and I’m betting that’s the same with all the other ones that came out of there.””

Yes, now our amnesiac protagonist can now preform an autopsy.

I’m going to assume you know why that is stupid and just move on.

“The Sargent opened his mouth but I cut him off again.

“Wait, there’s more. These guys are all the same, AND they melt when they die. Not only that, so do their clothes. Something or someone is down there, making these things in one piece, clothes and all.”

A moment of silence passed.

Jane spoke up. “Somewhere down that cave is an unknown amount of Legions, with more coming everyday.”

I finished her thought. “And if we don’t stop them, they will swarm out, get bitten by the Packlings, and the Packling hoards will increase infinitely. The world will be over run until there are too many to sustain and the Earth will be dead, for real this time.”

We looked back down in to the cave. Back in to the shadows. Back in to the hoard.

After a moment passed, the Sargent said “That’s not very good.””

Jesus, you can almost hear the fade out to the commercial break.



What Goes Around, Reviews Around: Part One

21 Jun

I do a lot of dickish, morally questionable things on this site. And by “dickish, morally questionable things”, I mean “reviews”.

It’s one of those things that every reviewer hears. “If you’re so smart, do it yourself!”

Weeell, I tried. I wrote a short, ten thousand word story about the apocalypse except not really, because society is still functioning. (Worst. Apocalypse. EVER.) It’s short, pretentious, and just plain old badly written.

And now, I’m going to review it! Ladies and gentlemen? Submitted for your approval… Brighter Future.

(Oh, this is going to hurt.)


“Midway through the apocalypse, I woke up.”

Oh, Jesus.

Looks like somebody wanted to start with an important sounding cold-open but didn’t feel like actually making sense!

“Actually, saying that is kind of inaccurate. “Waking Up” implies that I was asleep, and I have no idea if I was even alive before then. I had no memories, no thoughts, no idea of where I was going.”

You… you’re starting your main character off with amnesia?

I’ve made a terrible mistake here.


“I stood still for a second, taking in my surroundings. I was in a dull grey wasteland, with savage trees and twisted ground. In the distance, directly in front of me, was a mountain.”

Urgh. I can taste your disturbingly forced description exposition. It tastes like Mrs. Butterworth’s. And that DISGUSTS ME.

“I kept heading towards it. Hey, if I have no idea where I’m going, I might as well go there. Unless it’s lava, or a bomb or something, I suppose. Wait. How do I know what a bomb is? Fuck. Lemme think about this some more.”

Lampshades: They’re not just for interior decorators any more!

“As I walked, I thought more about… well… my brain. I had no idea what had happened to the world, or where I was, or who I was, or any of the other generally important things that someone tends to remember. But I could remember facts and words and social graces. Which raises a very worrisome question. Namely, what kind of jackass amnesia makes me forget my own name but lets me remember the capital of Botswana?! (It’s Gaborone.)”

If you listen very, very carefully, you can hear the dulcet tones of an amateur writer (and cartographer) Googling what the capital of Botswana is to make a cruddy joke.

Botswana, I am so, so sorry.

“As I walked closer to the mountain, I stopped by a pool of water. After checking it for bugs or monsters or something that would justify nobody having drunken this, I took a deep drink. My reflection looked back at me from the pool, and I took the chance to examine myself. First of all: male. Good to know.”

Uh oh, poor excuse to describe the main character, off the port bow!

“I was pale, with dark, almost black-red hair and green eyes. I had an average build and a devilish smile that I’m sure would help me endear myself to people if there was anybody else in this fucking wasteland. Sigh.”

You’ve been walking for, what, ten minutes in story? You can wait for the fucking bus longer than that. You’re declaring the end of the world a little early, don’t you think?

“My outfit needed some work, though. My coat looked like I had dressed in a frock and leapt through a lawnmower. I had nice leather pants and I’m sure that’ll be impressive to the vast amount of nothing I have to interact with.”

Aw, darn. I was hoping you’d walked all this way pantless.

“I looked back at the mountain, but now I could see what might be a town on the front of the mountain. Or maybe it was a town with a mountain of the back? Whatever. It looked important. I got up and looked at it, seriously thinking for the first time. Should I go there? It’s where I was going before I woke up, and it seems like there would be people there. But then again, they could be what happened to everyone else. Maybe it’s filled with monsters or demons or some variation thereupon.”

And maybe you’re trying to inflate your word count, you lazy scut.

I don’t think “scut” is an actual word.

Just before I could make my decision, the sun dipped under the horizon. And, as though it was waiting for it’s cue, a howl split the air. Then another. And then another. I decided then and there. Strange Town > Howly-Ghost Monsters.”

Yes, everyone knows that REAL writers use that stupid sideways ‘V’ thing.

“I broke in to a run, my feet making thumping against the ground with each step in a manner that ensured I would be making no friends with the local prairie dog populace. As I got closer to the town, I noticed more details about it. The walls were crudely welded together, and if there were any buildings within, they didn’t reach over the walls.”

And by “you noticed more details”, you mean “the writer finally decided them”.

“The gates had lights on them, with 2 people guarding it. I couldn’t make them out until I got closer, which may have been because of the fact that they were far away, but it was more likely because of my sheer, balls to the wall terror.

Neither of the guards were human, which was surprising. I mean, all I knew was that there were apparently weird wofly things, and I have no fashion sense.

They had grey skin that looked like rocks, and their hair was black. And, despite my fairly limited view of the world at large, I was certain that this was slightly unusual.

One had black, heavy combat armour and a machine gun so big that it makes me wonder what kind of relationship the designer had with his father. The armour had words on it that had been scribbled out, leaving only the letters S, O and L.

The other was far better to look at, if only for the fact that I could tell it’s gender. She was less brawny and blocky, for lack of a better word, than her compatriot, and she had a cowboy hat on her head tilted at a jaunty angle. I wasted a second or two wondering how the hell I knew what the word “jaunty” was before I continued to examine her.”

Actually, fun fact: These “Golem” people? They originally came from a Fallout 3 porn parody I was writing.


They would have taken the place of the Ghouls, in case you’re curious.

“On her belt was a revolver and she had a wooden baseball bat strapped to her back. Either in case an impromptu sports tournament broke out, or in case she needed to smash some skulls. 

She was wearing a duster, with a green jump suit beneath it. I spent a long time staring at her chest, for two reasons. One, because I apparently had a frustrated libido before I woke up, and two, because it was bouncy and supple, unlike SOL, who was hardened and angular. There must be different types of these rock people, some are hard and rocky and some soft and supple.”

Can you tell this was written by a 15 year old boy?

“Great. Scientific discovery via boob examination. Next thing you know, I’m going to discover time travel by masturbating furiously.”

I’ve actually tried that, and it never works. All you’ll get is wrist exercise.

““Freeze.” said SOL and this was the first time I realized she was a girl. She sounded like a normal girl, after guzzling gravel. Which, I am fairly certain, was not actually the case. The part of my brain that could actually remember things supplied me with the fact this meant “Stop moving and don’t produce a weapon”. I decided to comply because I could still remember that bullets hurt, and that she was still pointing a gun at me.”


It’s a revolutionary idea!

“In one breath I said “Oh, hey sorry about this. I have some questions. Who am I, who are you, who are those things, where am I and what’s two times five?” At the last question, the cowgirl raised an eyebrow in query. “I ran out of other questions.” I explained.”

I have never wanted to hit a fictional character more than I do right now.

“She laughed a light, beautiful laugh that sounded normal and nothing like SOL, which I count as a plus. But SOL growled and rested her finger on the trigger, which I count as a minus.”

How would you know what ‘normal’ sounds like? You have amnesia!

““Take off your clothes. Now.” she said as the howling drew nearer. “I hate it when I have to direct the strippers.” chimed in the cowgirl with a smirk on her face.”

You… you are just determined to strong-arm comic relief in to this scene, aren’t you?

““Why? Any particular reason, or are we just setting up the worlds most awkward porno?” I said as I fiddled with my belt, buying time.”

I will invent a way for you to be real, just so I can hurt you.

Whatever extremely selective amnesia I have doesn’t stretch to my shyness, because I would very rather not strip for a collection of strangers, particularly when one of them is very cute, one of them has a gun pointed at me, and one of them is a hoard of flesh eating monsters.”

Did… did you seriously just try to recap what WE LITERALLY JUST READ?!

You are dead to me.

Here, we’ve already prepared your shallow grave.

“The Packlings have a bite, and it’s got some nasty side effects,” explained the cowgirl whimsically. “We’d rather not have you go wacky in the middle of town square and turn in to one. That’s what it does, Packlings are infectious.””

Somewhere in the world, a biologist is crying.

““Can’t you just take my word for it?” I pleaded. The only response I got was a giggle from the cowgirl and a glare from SOL.”

And a groan of impatience from the audience.

“Sigh. I guess my self esteem will have to take the bullet this time.”

No no no, the readers will be HAPPY to take it for you!

“I pulled off my shirt and unbuckled my belt. “Woot!” laughed the cowgirl. “Take it off!” I slipped my pants off, revealing my underwear. She kept laughing and offering to stick money in my pants, making me seriously contemplate the merits of getting eaten by “Packlings”.”

Please don’t put quotation marks around your own words, it makes it look like even you’re not taking what you’re saying seriously.

“Finally, I stood naked, prepared to either get shot by SOL, eaten by a Packling, or die of sheer embarrassment. I am prepared for either one.”

And I’m praying for all three.

“Sweet buttery Buddha, if you have any mercy, PLEASE kill this guy by the end of the story…”

“SOL said. “Spin. Slowly.” I did, letting her see me in all my pale glory. I turned around, saw a gleaming shape lunging toward me, and closed my eyes.”

Hey, looks like we can pack it in early today!

“I heard a bang and opened them again. To my amazement, a Packling lay dead on the ground in front of me. It resembled a man sized hyena in an ill fitting skin suit with a bullet in it’s head. I am pretty sure that the bullet as not there to begin with.”

Ooh, look, you held the tension for a full second!

“The gunshot came from behind me, and I turned around again to see the cowgirl with her gun, finally pulled out of it’s holster, pointed at the beast. She had drawn and fired her gun before me or SOL could do anything more than flinch. “Oh.” I said weakly. “That’s why you’re on guard duty. I thought it was just so nobody else had to deal with your smart ass-ery.””

Which is EXACTLY the reason nobody puts up with YOU.

SOL said loudly, “Open.” and the gate opened in one fell swoop. I walked quickly ahead, not even taking the time to pick my clothing back up as the Packlings nipped at our heels.”

So, wait, you made us put up with that inane description of his clothing, just so he could lose them here?!

I would stab my computer in the USB port right now, but I can never hurt it the way it hurt me.

It’s okay, I know it’s not really your fault. It’s the past version of me.

And wait, if these things are “infectious” (god that sounds stupid), isn’t having them “nipping at your heels” a massive problem?! You can’t even keep your own stupid rules straight!

“We made it through, and the gate slammed behind us with a clatter. The three of us took a second to collect ourselves. “So.” I said, trying to be as suave as I could be while completely naked. “Nice shooting, Tex.””

Mister Suave, ladies and gentlemen.

The cowgirl turned to me and said. “Call me Jane.”

Can I call you “Bland” instead?

Jane reached over and put a cloth in my mouth, which I then breathed in.”

Why… why would you even do that? Did you think the cloth was made of delicious cheese?!

“I took me a second to realize “Wait a second. Chloroform is a bad thing to breath in.” and by then, it was too late.”

Yes, you heard that. Even in the apocalypse, chloroform still stands tall in the “Kind Of Rapey” chemical of choice!

I keeled over, landing on her chest. I barely had time to think “Yay, boobies!” before fading away, back to sleep.”

I am going to ignore thinking about what kind of position you had to be sitting in to land in her cleavage after she chloroforms you, and instead scream “what the hell did I just read”.




That was pretentious, poorly written, awkward, predictable, and couldn’t stop fondling it’s own balls long enough to write a decent main character! And I mean, seriously. Amnesia? That’s like “easy mode” for writers.

But oh no, that’s not all there is to this story! Come back later, for Part Two of “What Goes Around, Reviews Around”, or as it’s otherwise known, “Erik Punching Himself In The Fact For Two Thousand Pages”.

Sigh. This is going to hurt.