Saturday, May 18, 2013



Our story begins with a pair of old people in an apartment full of crap, not unlike the old people in Rosemary’s Baby, but far less menacing. They dish up some brains they brought home from the butcher shop and take them to the bathroom, where they discover that whoever they were going to feed the brains to is gone. Then we see the olds go fucking nuts; they throw/break all their stuff out of the cabinets looking for this pet of theirs (or whatever) named Elmer, and finally they start screaming and foaming at the mouth...


To read the rest of the article click here.

Please God, let this be the closest I ever get to being eaten by a grizzly...



No comments:

Friday, May 17, 2013

Support the arts! (And by arts I mean support me and whatever the Hell it is I do here...)

Make a donation! All money donated goes to upkeep and art and getting my damn furniture back! All donors will be listed on the PATRONS' PAGE!

Some of my works are only available in Ebook format.  Why not pick one up? And don't forget to leave a review!

available in Ebook Format for 99 Cents.

Read a sample

View this book on Smashwords

available in Ebook Format for 99 Cents.

Read a sample

View this book on Smashwords

available in Ebook Format for 99 Cents.

IN THE SHADOW OF HIS NEMESIS: Men And Other Nightmares

The following is a condensed chapter from my serial novel but it is enjoyable as a stand alone piece.


Men And Other Nightmares
(an excerpt from In The Shadow Of His Nemesis)

Al Bruno III

Cheryl McGlade cancelled her appointments and called in sick to work. That meant angry customers and possibly lost business but how could she care about that now that her best friend was dead?

Most likely dead because of me.

It had been last night when she had learned about it. She had been getting ready for bed and the local news had been just there for noise. Then she heard a familiar name spoken- Isobel Talbot.

Cheryl had turned to the television just in time to see flashing lights from a handful of police cars and a serious-looking reporter fading from the screen. For the next few sleepless hours she went from the radio to TV, desperate for any scrap of information. The story took shape quickly enough- Isobel Talbot and Nicholas Schlegel had been found dead in her apartment. The details were sketchy but they painted a picture of shouts and gunfire. The main topic of conversation was which of them had committed murder and then turned the gun on themselves.

My gun. Cheryl thought again and again, With my gun…

She knew she had to go to the police but she hadn’t got the nerve yet. How could she explain herself? All she had wanted to do was protect her best friend because she never learned that love always led to cruelty.

And what gender is responsible for most of the cruelty?

In fact weren't most of the crimes in the world committed by men? Or at very least the very worst? Cheryl could only wonder at the exact ratio of male to female prison inmates but she was willing to be a month's tips that the boy's side had the larger number. Think of the monsters the male race could boast of; Adolph Hitler, Charles Manson, Jim Jones, Ted Bundy and Albany's own Tristam Bloom.

To be certain, there were female murderers but none so noteworthy, none so bloodthirsty. The only name that occurred to Cheryl's wandering mind was Lizzie Borden; every other name that occurred to her were either accomplices or dupes.

Sometimes, and especially now, Cheryl wished she had opened up more about the bastards she had given her heart to. Would Isobel have been ready then to face the Nicks and Galens of the world?

The first man in Cheryl’s life had been an engineering student from the State University and he had disproved the theory that nerds were nice guys. In less than a year he had insinuated himself into every aspect of her life, gently domineering her until she felt she had to OK her outfits with him in the morning before heading out. Every failure was punished coldness and guilt and when there weren’t any failures to rain scorn down on he invented some. The last straw was when he scolded her for making too much noise while they were having sex- her orgasm had distracted him from his own.

She had actually found herself apologizing to him that night but thankfully she had found the strength to leave him before being reduced to a complete puddle of jelly. Upon re-entering the dating world she ran right into asshole number two. Actually she didn't so much run into him as step in him.

In the beginning he'd been a first class dream, they shared the same interests and as far as he was concerned she could make all the noise she wanted in bed. They were on the verge of living together when she skipped a period. At first she wasn't concerned but a week of early morning nausea and two home pregnancy tests later she had to face facts- she was twenty-two, unmarried and pregnant.

When she told her perfect match, he went ballistic, raging that she was trying to trap him and that he was in no way, shape, or form ready for fatherhood. He gave her an ultimatum, the baby or him. He never even offered to accompany her to the Planned Parenthood clinic. That drive into Albany was the bleakest moment of her life.

In the aftermath, Mr. Wonderful had gone back to being Mr. Wonderful, but the damage was done. How could he just pretend it had never happened? How could she pretend it was just business as usual? In the end he'd left telling her she'd changed, that she wasn't the same woman he'd fallen in love with.

The doorbell rang and Cheryl knew it had to be the police. They had traced the gun back to her. She the bell ring a second time before she got up to face the music. When vowed not to ask for a lawyer, she didn’t deserve one.

Cheryl opened the door to find Isobel standing on there, bloodied, dirty but still very much alive.

Glancing apprehensively around her, Isobel stepped inside, closed the door and locked it. "I need a drink."

Still not recovered from shock Cheryl said, “You’re dead. I mean the news…”

“Please a drink.” Then she looked down at herself, “And some bandages. No a lot of bandages.”

When Cheryl had returned to the parlor with two imported beers and the first aid kit she saw Isobel drawing the curtains. Cheryl asked, “Should we call someone?”

“No. Don’t call anybody.” Isobel drank half the beer down in two gulps, "It’s not safe.”

“What isn’t safe?”

“You know.” Isobel gingerly shouldered out of her jacket and blouse. She winced as she tore the fabric from ugly looking scabs and set the wound on her side started bleeding again. “You saved my life. Do you know that?”

“Jesus! What happened to you?”

Isobel finished her beer, “It was your gun. They would have killed both of us.”


"I don't think you'll believe any of it"

"I tell you what,” Cheryl opened the first aid kit, “You talk and I’ll play nursemaid."

“Ok. Ok.” Isobel took the other beer bottle, “But keep these coming.”


With artwork like this Michael Bukowski has wormed his way into my heart...

Thursday, May 16, 2013

No matter how bad your mood is a little Groucho will always bring a smile...



No comments:

OUR VALUED CUSTOMERS speaks the unvarnished truth!



No comments:

Blood! Nudity! Tracking problems! The NSFW trailer for V/H/S 2 is here!

Found via TWITCH



No comments:

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

My video blog review of RETURN OF THE BLIND DEAD.

From my YOUTUBE page

Now I don't feel so bad for America unleashing Honey Boo Boo on the world...


No comments:

The trailer for THE HAUNTING OF HELENA has some profoundly creepy images...



No comments:

Michael Bukowski shows us the madness and majesty of DAGON...

Monday, May 13, 2013

The Cold Inside (a serial novel) Chapter Twenty-six part one

The Cold Inside
Chapter Twenty-six
part one

Wednesday December 21, 1994

They huddled together at the base of the stairs, in the alcove of the Blessed Heart Academy's main entrance. Trails of rainwater traced obscure patterns over the stonework; irregular patches of ice concealed old scuffmarks and wads of gum. The student body was feeling rambunctious. A few students had taken to wearing Santa hats, others were singing carols, and the football team had carried the coach's car into the central courtyard and left it there with a big red bow on the hood.  Five teenage boys huddled together at the base of the stairs and talked.

Rich started like he'd been slapped “He's what?”

“In the hospital.” Warren said, “Unconscious.”

Tristam asked, “What happened?”

“Like you care. How long before you start telling us he was asking for it?”

“Warren please!” Greg tried to silence their bickering with a wave of his arm, “We don't need this now.”

Yusuf said, “How did you find out?”

A teacher scurried past them, her coat pulled in tight around her.” I was supposed to call Adelphos after school.” Warren explained, “We were going to try and set up a second D&D game, one without cuntlip here.”

Tristam shook his head, “Nice. Real nice.”

“Sorry I don't deal well with people saying shit about my friends.”

“I was just repeating what I'd heard you asshole.”

Staring at his shoes, Warren spoke again, “I called there, I got his Mom- I guess she has to stay there with his brother or something- she told me that they'd found him lying in the street between two parked cars. At first they thought he'd been hit by a car but the police think that he got beat up ‘cause he had footprints all over him.”


“He’s going to be all right but he's got some kind of a concussion.”

Greg 's voice was a whisper, “Jesus...”

Tristam asked “Do they know what happened?”

“Someone beat the crap out of him that's what happened.” Rich said.

“Yeah but why?”

Warren raised his glare to Tristam again “Some people think its fun.”

“Does anyone else know-”

A shout filled the alcove. They had no time to react as a gang of boys attacked them, pushing and punching. When it was over Tristam, Rich and Yusuf were on the wet ground, Warren was doubled over gasping for breath and Greg had his hands cupped over his right eye.

The attack was over as quickly as it had begun. “I guess…” Greg pulled his glasses from a puddle of snowy mud and checked for damage, “…they heard.”

Rich retrieved his copy of The Eternal Champion from the same puddle, “This is going to be a long next few days.”

“This is going to be a long rest of the year.” Yusuf helped Warren to his feet.
Warren gulped air, “Maybe one of us will get an UZI for Christmas.”

Greg rounded on him, “Don't even joke like that.”

“We need to stop just letting them do this to us.” Tristam glared at the main entrance, in his minds eye he saw it guttering with flame and smoke, he saw blood everywhere. The Cold Inside trilled at the thought, “We need to fight back.”

Warren laughed bitterly “Yeah that worked great for me. Remember what happened after our little fight Tristam? A four day suspension and a mark on my permanent record. Then of course I had the pleasure of you and your friends pounding me every chance you could for months.”

“This is different.”

“Only for you.” Warren said, “If we fight back we lose, if we do nothing we lose, if we go to the principal we lose. Welcome to the world Tristam.”

The five minute warning bell sounded. Rich sighed heavily, “Maybe so, but at least we get two weeks off. I'll call you guys later tonight about Adelphos.”

“We should be thinking about sending him flowers or something.” Yususf followed Rich as he headed for the main entrance.

“Flowers? To a guy?”

“Maybe a fruit basket?”

“So you want him to get well soon so he can kick our asses? We should get him some Magic Cards or a Corum novel or something.”

“Well I've got an algebra exam to go fail.” Warren ducked out of the alcove and made his way to the Math and Science building. “Later.”

Tristam stared up at thick low hanging clouds, knowing that above them somewhere there was something better than this dreary twilight. He would have loved to be able to see it right now. “I really make things worse don’t I? I always make things worse.”

“Don't talk that way.” Greg said, “That's crazy. You’re not God, you don't control what goes wrong and what goes right.”

More awesome art from HanieMohd...




No comments:

Sunday, May 12, 2013

GLOVE AND BOOTS reveal '10 Reasons Why Time Travel Is No Good'



No comments: