They are out of bread in the Wastelands but there is still plenty of ale; I will show you beer and a handful of crust.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
A quick note for some of the folks that commented on PANTIES HALF OFF part 5...
For some reason the blogger appears to have eaten some of the comments when I tried to publish them. If you are one of the folks did not see your comments appear please know that regardless of whatever errors the system threw at me I appreciated what you had to say.
Monday, July 5, 2010
In The Shadow Of His Nemesis chapter seventy one
In The Shadow Of His Nemesis
Chapter Seventy One
By AL BRUNO III
Saturday, December 4th 1996
By now the room was a shambles, every one of the dresser drawers had been emptied and then pulled out. Books had been unceremoniously yanked from their shelves and roughly shaken out before being tossed aside. Pictures had been taken from the walls and chairs had been overturned. Tarot cards were scatter throughout the room like a carpet of oversized confetti. After looking under the bed Jason Magwier had given up. Now he sat cross-legged on the floor with his head resting on his chin. “Destiny is like a room full of doors, some are labeled, some aren’t. Even if you think you know what you’re looking for you might not get what you expect,” his sighed, “I’ll tell her that someday but she won’t understand. She’ll think I’m being cryptic.”
Roxanne didn’t want to hear his rambling but she had awoken to find herself expertly hogtied and gagged. Her head ached and blood was slowly weeping from the gash on her head to smear on the carpet.
“It has to be you,” Magwier got to his feet, “you’re an outcast Lunt and an Oracle to boot.”
Roxanne watched him kick contemplatively through the piles of dresses and lingerie on the floor. “I wish I was an Oracle, so much simpler than seeing futures.”
One of the candles had burned its way down to the base of the candleholder, the flame sputtered clinging to life. The grandfather clock in the far corner of the room began to chime but Magwier had deliberately miss-set the hands rendering the hollow rings meaningless.
If she could just spit the gag out she would have given the loudest scream of her life but all she could do was squirm in place and silently will Jack to come to her room. She should have seen this coming. Hadn’t the Hanged Man and the Devil shown up in every tarot spread she dealt? Roxanne had just assumed the little twerp had come for someone, or something else.
Magwier stood in front of the mirror, glaring accusingly at his reflection. “What are you up to?” he asked with a voice that was quiet and rhetorical.
The familiar sound of wind chimes, the cries of the spirits bound to Laurel House began to echo through the hallways. Roxanne didn’t like the sound of them, tried to speak through the gag but she was ignored. Magwier was searching the room again going through every corner and closet with renewed fury. He as breaking things now, tearing things open and apart.
“Where is it?” he said, “it couldn’t have just walked off by itself! At least not that quickly....”
What is it? She tried to scream, What do you want?
“Hmmmmm... If I were a voco spurcamen where would I be?” He swept things from the writing desk to the floor, then bent to retrieve a letter opener. He prodded his index finger with the pointed end and puzzled at it, “A letter opener? What would you need a letter opener for here?”
Grinning he threw the letter opener up into the air embedding the pointed end into the ceiling. He admired his handiwork for a time then said, “What did the Monarchs promise you? Money? Power? Love?”
She glared at him as he drew closer his eyes full of menace and accusation. He said “Knowing you it must have been love. In the end love makes monsters of us all. I should know.”
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Forty
Azathoth the lord of chaos pulsed to the sound of idiot piping, yet it found the sound of the vuvuzela pretty fucking annoying.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Thirty Nine
After twenty-five years of marriage the only thing that upset her more than her husband was the thought of living without him.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Thirty Eight
Abner Deggent grinned as the native girls undressed him, he had misheard when they said they were there to baste him.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Thirty Seven
To Lorelei the best part of magic was learning the secrets of the cosmos and using that knowledge to beat the crap out of someone.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Thirty Six
Supervillian Chef Julia Infant hated it when her pastry-based minions were called Doughnut Men she preferred People of Cruller.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Panties Half Off part five
Price Breaks and Heartaches
A journal of retail and failed romance
Chapter Three
Panties Half Off
part five
...It was just another day in the nondescript city, none of the generic citizens heading into the local bank would ever have expected a bank robbery but our heroes were ready for it.
This bank got robbed every week.
A man wearing a dark fedora and a trenchcoat charged into the bank. He felled two of the henchmen with his wrist-mounted ice ray and then smirked, “I’m Frost and you two better cool off!”
The next man through the door wore a flashily colored hazmat suit. He shot waves of fast-acting bubonic plague from the palms of his hands. As another pair of thugs collapsed the man in the hazmat suit said, “Hi guys! I’m Patient Zero and I’ve got a feeling the urge to surrender is getting pretty infectious!”
Then the front window of the bank crashed inwards and a man wearing a pointy-eared cowl snarled at hostages and criminals alike. He pulled a sawed-off shotgun from beneath his flowing black cape and began firing wildly. “Die motherfuckers!” he screamed as the air was filled with screams and bloodstained deposit slips, “Diiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”...
*
I looked up from map covered with miniature cardboard super heroes, villains and ordinary citizens. Gordon was holding his CHAMPIONS rulebook against his chest. Adrian was the first of us to speak, “I thought you were playing Batman.”
“Oh no,” Daniel said, “My guy is named Bat-Shit, because he’s like Batman but he’s batshit crazy.”
“Well...” I commented, “you can’t say he wasn’t roleplaying.”
Adrian nodded, “Right now I can’t say anything at all. I’m kinda stunned.”
That’s right folks, we were playing another role playing game. Back in my days these pen and paper games were the closest thing we had to the shared world mayhem of something like THE WORLD OF WARCRAFT. You didn’t need a computer, or a broadband connection, all you needed was the kind of creativity that can only come from social maladjustment and soul crushing loneliness.
While we might not have to deal with monthly fees or server crashes we pen and paper role playing gamers still had to deal with moments like this. Adrian you see was the game master, he had written and planned out an adventure for our heroes and now it was completely derailed.
Trust me, all of us old-school nerds have been there at one time or another.
“Talk amongst yourselves for a few minutes OK?” Adrian began pawing through his ring binders and game supplement books, “I just need to make a few quick changes.”
Daniel grinned, “My character is even more awesome that you expected right?”
“Riiiiiiiiight.” I said.
“So how are things with the Panty Patrol?” Gordon asked as he opened up his second 2 liter bottle of Mountain Dew for the day.
“Busy,” I explained, “busier than I expected really. Working in women's’ clothing isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.”
Adrain dropped his pencil, “I knew it!”
“No it’s not like that,” I explained, “I’m working at the Julia Shop now.”
Daniel snickered, “Are they paying you in merchandise?”
“Up yours!” I cleverly retorted. (I think it was Shakespeare that first used that particular retort.)
“Hey!” Gordon said, “Show the man a little respect. He landed a job that puts him in close contact with women every day. Women with money and needs that only he can fulfill. Woman eager to take off their clothes right on the premisses.”
“Wow,” Adrain’s hand tightened around his dice bag.
Daniel gave me an apologetic look, “I didn’t know...”
I blushed, “Actually I mostly work in the stockroom all by myself.”
“I KNEW IT!” Adrian and Daniel shared a high-five.
Gordon punched me in the arm, “What the Hell is the deal? Do you want people to think you’re a doofus for the rest of your life?”
“I’m not sure if I have a choice,” I said, “this could be one of those nature versus nurture things.”
“Damn Al...”
Daniel rolled his eyes, “Come on, everyone in the class of 1986 knows who he’s still pining away for Lilly.”
“Lilly?” Adrian stroked his chin, isn’t she still hooked up with Jessie Manson?”
“Yes.”
“The bodybuilder?”
“Yes.”
“The guy that can crush walnuts against his abs?”
“Yes!”
“Wow Al,” Adrian nodded ruefully, “is your life really that sad?”
I sighed with exasperation, “All I know is that I wish that I had Jessie’s girl...”
“Jessie's’ girl?” Gordon asked.
“Why can’t a find a woman-” a sob caught in my throat, “why can’t I find a woman like that?”
“Ok guys... lets get back to the game!” Adrian said.
*
...the three costumed men stood among the bodies arguing about the fine line between costumed crimefighters and masked vigilantes. Patient Zero and Batshit were starting to shove each other, Frost was looking for a convenient side exit.
“Nice try you young whipper snappers...” a voice interrupted them. One of the customers stood, her dowdy dress was peppered with buckshot holes, there was blood in her blue rinsed hair. “But my healing powers are more than a match for you.”
“And who the Hell are you supposed to be?” Batshit laughed as he reloaded his sawed off shotgun.
Steel claws popped out of the backs of her hands and she lunged at them. The last thing the heroes heard was her name...
*
“Auntie Mame?” I scratched my head in confusion.
“No,” Adrian said, “Auntie Maim.”
“Ohhhh...”
Thursday, July 1, 2010
The Manly Adventures of Abner Deggent: Island of the Toroga
THE MANLY ADVENTURES OF ABNER DEGGENT
Island of the Toroga
by
Al Bruno III
The decade after the second world war was a period of unlimited prosperity. For a rugged few individuals it was also a time of unlimited adventure and the manliest of those adventurers was the mercenary, treasure hunter and unlicensed electrician named Abner Deggent.
It would be fair to say that he fascinated me from the very first. As an amateur writer I had become an avid observer of humanity and I knew from the very first glance that this was a man that lived life on the edge.
It began in the summer of 1947, once I had been one of the most decorated chefs in the navy but I had recently been dishonorably discharged. You might think a man like General McArthur would be more forgiving of a few tapeworms but you would be wrong.
My aimless wanderings had brought me to a bar in Singapore that was owned by a retired trainer of fighting chickens, which was why he had named his establishment ‘The Brutal Cock.’ This was an establishment that catered to the jaded desires of soldiers of fortune and modern day pirates.
Everyone looked up when the man strode into the bar; some noticed his whipcord muscles, others noticed his steely eyed expression, many more noticed that when he kicked the door open it hit a waitress and knocked her unconscious.
He walked up to the bar and began talking to the owner, his mastery of the Malay language was clumsy but he spoke with the kind of confidence only a man that doesn’t realize he’s accidentally ordered a Shirley Temple with Tabasco sauce can have.
I left my table and introduced myself.
“Deggent’s the name,” he shook my hand with crushing force. His was as deep and rich as a good souffle, “Abner Deggent.”
I introduced myself, “Ralph Brooks.”
The owner brought over his drink, Deggent sipped from it contemplatively, then coughed for a few minutes.
When his eyes had stopped watering I ordered him an expensive beer.
He smiled thinly “Much obliged Brooks.”
“Please, you may call me Ralph,” I paid for our drinks, “and if you don’t mind my saying so it looks as though you are either coming back from an adventure or are about to set out on one.”
“Everyday is an adventure for me Brooks,” he took a long swig of beer. If the mustache of dripping foam bothered him he gave no sign.
“Really? I’d like to hear more.” I said.
Deggent explained to me that he had recently undertaken a mission to help recover the twin idols from the natives of Togora Island.
“I’m sorry if I’m a bit confused,” I interrupted, “but you said you were recovering these idols.”
“Yes,” he grunted, “those artifacts were solid gold, they were priceless. Better to have them in a museum than to have them being worshiped by a bunch of savages for another two hundred years.”
I nodded with understanding and he continued his story. The expedition, he explained, had been organized by Professor Eisenhart working from the notes of a previous expedition that had disappeared without a trace. Other men might have been scared off knowing something like that but not Deggent!
Besides, no one told him anything about it until they were already on the island of the Toroga The expedition consisted of Deggent, Professor Eisenhart and their translator, a lovely native girl named Weena. They lacked the funds for native bearers and bodyguards but the Professor got around that by recruiting a small force of unpaid interns.
Occasionally Deggent would pause in the telling of his tale to place another drink order on my tab and try to entice our waitress into having sex with him for money. He started out by waving a ten dollar bill under her nose and worked his way up in increments of five.
My narrative skills could never fully capture the tale of their journey through that savage land. They encountered quicksand and ravenous beasts, clever deathtraps and rock slides, the crossed swords with another group of treasure hunters and wandering Toroga warriors. Our heroes braved it all, venturing deeper and deeper into the jungle leaving nothing but a trail of mutilated unpaid interns in their wake.
When they reached the village of the Toroga they were immediately set upon and captured, their translator having betrayed them. Deggent could only speculate to her reasons but he suspected that the check he had prepaid her with bouncing had something to do with it.
The chief of the Toroga spoke perfect English and he explained that his people were weary of one group of adventurers after another raiding their quiet village. He meant to make an example of our heroes by subjecting them to the Death Of A Thousand Screams.
Abner Deggent laughed fearlessly at this causing the chief of the Toroga to re-sentence him to the Death Of One Really Big Scream but before that could happen Deggent challenged the man, infact he challenged the honor of the entire Toroga people.
“I told him that we would have our champion fight theirs, if we won we would go free, if they won they would go forward with the executions,” Deggent explained, “luckily he fell for it.”
“Well, what happened?” I asked.
Deggent shrugged, “Damned if I know, we told them the last surviving intern was our champion and we made our escape as he battled the tribal champion in a pit full of flaming vipers.”
Of course there was more to the story? Did they ever find the treasure? How did they escape the island?
Before I could ask the owner of the bar appeared before us waving a rusty machete. It was only then that Abner Deggent discovered he had been propositioning the man’s daughter for sexual favors all night.
What happened then? That is a story for another time.
(Recommended Article) J. Timothy King says some very nice things about one of my tales at BE THE STORY
I love character stories. In fact, I rarely enjoy a story unless it has a character-driven component.
So I was naturally surprised that I so enjoyed Al Bruno's latest #FridayFlash story. It's not really a character story, per se. Or is it?
(Recommended Reads) "When In Rome" by Marisa Birns
Louis emerged from the Men's Room in the restaurant to hear his mother exchanging private telephone numbers with someone she met only scant hours ago...
(Recommended Reads) "The Cat's On The Roof" by Karen Schindler
"Are you sure about this Krista?" Sam asked, his brow furrowed, looking down at the scrawny girl standing on the other side of the counter, a determined expression on her face...
(Recommended Reads) "Ghost Host" by Carrie Clevenger
The check-in desk was polished and immense. One clerk worked at this unholy hour. I signed my name, collected the key, and declined help with my bags. The elevator worked slowly, creeping skyward at a snail's pace. I had a business conference in less than seven hours and was hoping for a bath before bed...
SCREAMIN' DEMON shows us the trailer for LET ME IN (the American remake of LET THE RIGHT ONE IN)
ohpleasegetthisrightohpleasegetthisright
If they screw this up as bad as THE WICKER MAN remake I'm gonna kick someone in the junk...
Don't forget to keep circulating the blog!
Maybe someday I can quit my day job!
That's http://albruno3.blogspot.com for all your Al Bruno III needs
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