Saturday, July 31, 2010
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy Eight
"I hated being a super hero in the 90's. It was all about image and we were always getting foiled. No one had any perspective."
Friday, July 30, 2010
(Recommended Reads) "Unsung Hero" by Peggy McFarland
Troy watched the seagulls wheel above the ocean, dive for clams, then guard their catches from comrades. With tourist season a memory, the gulls had to work for their meals.
A runt gull burst from the surf with a large shell bulging from its bill. In his peripherals Troy noticed a gray-winged giant intent on the smaller bird's catch. The runt soared above the cottage line, hovered as if measuring the distance. The larger bird took flight. Troy shouted to divert gray-wing's attention, but the bird disregarded him and aimed for the roofline. It swooped in just as the clam crashed on the rooftop and stole the sweet meat. The runt screeched its frustration, but gray-wing ignored the tantrum and flew away. Troy understood gull law; every bird for himself...
(Recommended Reads) "Dogfish" by Maria Protopapadaki-Smith
“Mum, I’m taking the fish for a walk.”
“Okay, but be back in time for dinner.”
When Tommy was five years old, his parents had taken him to a Greek island on holiday. His memories of it were rather vague, consisting mainly of sandcastles built and then promptly destroyed in glee, but one incident was still crystal clear in his mind. They had been sitting in a taverna by the harbour, and a boat with two fishermen had moored a few feet from their table. One of the men had jumped to shore carrying a small shark, harpoon still sticking out of it. On seeing Tommy’s eyes widen, the man smiled at him and lowered the fish so he could take a closer look. He still remembered its intense dark eyes, and how smooth it had been to the touch...
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy Seven
The Legion of Protectors had defended Earth from alien cyborgs nine times before but where they ready for the Deus Machina X?
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy Six
With no more lotion to enhance female arousal they tried Vics Vapor Rub. There was a lot of screaming in the bedroom that night.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy Five
He tried to cure nerds of their long-standing fears of gymnasiums by making them smell used sports equipment. It was Jock Therapy.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy Four
It was a shop that specialized in products for women with oversized vaginas but it just couldn't compete with the Big Box Stores.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy Three
A 3rd version of the Time Police had to be created to fix time paradoxes created by the other Time Police repairing time paradoxes.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy Two
Professor Olam and the Silver League vowed to forge the future with steam power and dreams. Neither stayed in fashion long enough.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
THE LOCAL HEROES: The Way Of The Ninja
The Way Of the Ninja
by
Al Bruno III
The headquarters of Overseas Imports is the tallest structure in River City’s business district. Twenty-four stories high it looms over the stunted, rundown buildings that surround it. At this hour the tower glass and steel is the only source of illumination for several blocks. Its reflection skitters and dances across the surface of the Hallenbeck River.
A masked man dressed in shades of red white and blue scaled the building's sleek, gleaming walls. The handholds he used were imperceptible to normal sight and touch but years of training had left the hero known as the Psychotic Kid with preternaturally sharp senses.
This was the way of the ninja.
The penthouse office was dark. The Psychotic Kid clung to the wall with one hand and traced patterns on the window glass searching for the weakest point.
A breeze shifted him slightly. Hanging by one arm was dangerous even at the best of times and tonight he was more tired and almost blind with anger. The Psychotic Kid ignored these things, he had been taught to ignore exhaustion, pain and the need for regular restroom visits. His body was an instrument of his will and his mind, not a prison for it.
This was the way of the ninja.
Once he had found the weakest point found he tapped it a single time and the glass on the window and the glass pane simply fell away leaving the penthouse exposed to the night air.
Psychotic Kid back flipped into the office and landed on the mahogany desk sending papers flying. He was ready for anything but for a moment the framed motivational posters of kittens and cute sayings confounded him.
“I figured it would be you,” a voice spoke.
“Another witness is dead.” the costumed hero’s voice was a snarl, but then again it was always a snarl, “You think you’re gonna get away with this?”
The lights flickered on. A broad shouldered man glared from across the room; his suit was expensive, his hair dark and thinning. His eyes were bulging and black, each one twitched independently of the other. “I was here in my office the entire time this tragic yet amusing turn of events took place,” he said, “I have witnesses.”
“Oh sure,” Psychotic Kid said. This man always had an alibi but he was responsible nonetheless; Johnny Crawdad practically ran River City these days, “But it was you. I know the truth.”
“The truth?” Crawdad chuckled, “The truth is that no goofball in American flag pajamas is gonna bring me down.”
With a snap of his fingers thugs came streaming out of a hidden doorway looking to Psychotic Kid like a tidal wave of blunt weapons and bad haircuts.
A pair of thugs threw themselves against the desk shoving it out the hole where the window had been but Psychotic Kid had already backflipped away. He had seen their intent in their eyes and read it, read it in the way they had moved.
This was the way of the ninja.
Psychotic Kid came to a stop in the middle of the room. The thugs surrounded him. One swung a blackjack at his head. Another tried to hit him in the kidneys. A third swung a crowbar at the back of his legs.
The hero in red, white and blue twisted in place letting each attack flow around him. One thug fell with an injury to his head. One thug was knocked face first onto the carpet. A third was rocking on the floor clutching his broken knee with his hands. It was as though Psychotic Kid had never been there at all.
This was the way of the ninja.
One of his adversities threw a knife. Psychotic Kid heard the air whistling around the blade and caught it by the tip.
The last two more were coming now, each rushing him from the opposite side.
Still holding the knife Psychotic Kid leapt into the air. The spinning kick brought the first one down, an elbow to the face left the other staggering in place with a dazed expression.
Psychotic Kid pushed him over and rounded on the knife thrower, “Get outta here.”
And he did.
“This doesn’t change anything,” Johnny Crawdad said as he glared at what was left of his best men, “the DA’s got nothing. You Local Heroes got nothing. Nobody in the Shellfish gang is going to prison.”
Psychotic Kid was motionless, “Will too.”
“Yeah, and how many people are you gonna let get killed to do that?” Johnny Crawdad laughed, “Unless you’re willing to be a man and use that knife I’ll always win.”
The costumed crimefighter threw the blade, it crashed through one of the ‘Hang In There!’ posters and buried itself deep in the wall. Psychotic Kid might have been trained to kill but he wouldn’t take a life. That was a vow he would never break.
Johnny Crawdad’s cellphone began to ring.
“Better get that,” Psychotic Kid said.
His black eyes filled with suspicion but he took the call, “Yeah? ...what? ....when?”
“Something wrong?” Psychotic Kid couldn’t have kept the glee from his voice if he wanted to.
“My house is on fire...” the cell phone slipped from Johnny Crawdad’s hand, “...you set my house on fire!”
“I was here in your office the entire time this tragic yet amusing turn of events took place,” Psychotic Kid replied, “I have witnesses.”
Screaming like a madman Johnny Crawdad pulled the revolver from his jacket and fired but the penthouse office was empty.
Riding his grapple line across the street the masked man dressed in shades of red white and blue listened to Johnny Crawdad call him a dirty, sneaky, son of a bitch.
And Psychotic Kid had to laugh for this too was the way of the ninja.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy One
He spent years as a door to door sponge salesman but then the market dried up.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy
Amazing Ed spent twenty minutes trying to diffuse the bomb before someone told him it was pinata
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Sixty Nine
Talking in his sleep had ruined George's marriage but at least he didn't have to be awake to run a kickass Dungeons & Dragons game.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Sixty Eight
After she lost both of her arms on the job she was laid off with severance pay.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Sixty Seven
The witch doctor promised to curse the mercinaries with the Living Death. Abner Deggent just laughed, he had already been married.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Sixty Six
"Your joke was like my sex life," he said, "I don't get it."
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Sixty Five
The strain of managing a comic book store drove him mad, you might say he had issues.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Sixty Four
The rejection slip said Alfred's prose style was 'too feminine'. Alfred vowed to track the editor down scratch his eyes out.
5 Second Fiction One Thousand Four Hundred and Sixty Three
Captain Renault's grandson became a crazed cannibal, by the time they caught him he had ground up the usual suspects.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
(Insane News) "Police: Naked man sets prosthetic leg on fire with crack pipe"
...Deputies say they found 47-year-old Randy Malone naked along U.S. 70 with his prosthetic right leg in flames on July 5. He was treated for burns to his leg, back and buttocks...
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
HORRORSQUAD shows us the animated short 'A Lovecraft Dream'
It's widely held that much of the inspiration for HP Lovecraft's wackiness are the night terrors that plagued him while he slept. Well, that and unhinged racism, but I digress. . .
(Insane News) "Finger in Butt Crack Sparks Knife Fight"
According to a police report, the unnamed suspect rubbed a finger along the victim's butt crack, prompting her to clench her buttocks. The victim claimed the clenching caused the bed she was sitting on to break, angering the suspect...
Monday, July 26, 2010
Another even cooler poster for LET ME IN
I am still hopeful... I wonder how they will handle her 'Reinfield' in this story... he was a very different and awful creature in the book...
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