Saturday, April 7, 2012
The first of the 'Rants' THE TEAM THAT COULDN'T SHOOT STRAIGHT was first posted on 3/21/2002!
I wrote it because I was at work, I was bored and a little depressed over my ever growing pile of rejection slips.
I remember posting it and then thinking to myself "I'll never do something like this again."
But I did do it again... twenty four times by the time I realized it was time to stop.
Ten years and folks are still reading and laughing over these stories these strange and somewhat true stories. I honestly can't wrap my head around it sometimes. You guys have kept these tales alive, repeating them, reposting them, linking to them, TV troping them, turning them into radio plays and gosh knows what else.
For a long time I felt like a failed writer but you guys and gals - whoever and wherever you are - helped me get through that. Maybe I won't be the next Clive Barker, Stephen King or Snooki but I told my stories and you heard.
I will always be grateful.
And for those of you that don't know what the Hell I am talking about here they are...
The Binder of Shame by Francis Hogan
The RPG.net Rants
Uncensored, Unforgettable and Uncorrected
Friday, April 6, 2012
(Insane News) Gravy-wrestling model suffers horrific facial injuries after being hit with monkey wrench when she interrupted a friend having sex
A model who became a champion gravy wrestler suffered serious eye damage after being hit in the face with a monkey wrench.
Elisa Sampson, 31, was hit in the face by her 'best friend' Sabina English, after arriving back at her home in Rossendale, Lancashire, and finding the single mother having sex with another friend on her sofa.
When kick boxer Elisa interrupted the two with a shout of: 'What are you doing', laundry worker English jumped up and hit her in the face with the garage tool, which was lying nearby on the floor.
The victim received two fractures around her right eye and a gashed upper lid, which needed surgery and 17 stitches to repair it and which resulted in a 'deformity' on the eyelid and long-term vision problems.
At Burnley Crown Court, Lancashire, English admitted grievous bodily harm and was jailed for two years.
She was also barred from contacting Elisa for two years under a restraining order.
The fight occurred last October, a year after blonde Elisa won the 2010 World Gravy Wrestling Championship, in which she wrestled other women and men in 2,000 litres of Bisto outside a pub near her home in Rossendale.
Miss Martine Snowden, prosecuting, said Elisa, English and Paul Greenwood who were all friends, were at the wrestler’s flat enjoying a drinks party.
Trouble began when Elisa Sampson went into her living room and found English and Paul Greenwood having sex.
Miss Snowden said: 'Elisa was cross with what she saw, unhappy about their behaviour in her lounge and asked: "What are you doing?"
'But English jumped up and Paul Greenwood got up and grabbed the victim around the throat and pushed her into the doorway.'
English’s brother who was also at the flat punched Elisa in the face a number of times...
The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions)
Al Bruno III
Events began to move faster as the Demon of If drew its web in tighter. When it moved the world shuddered and time folded back. Somewhere on Route d’abbaye Jason Magwier was fighting for his life. Further to the north Judy Bauer was trying and failing to escape the magics keeping her from getting home. Zeth was helping Lorelei with a little breaking and entering. And Jack Diamond was in the back seat of his Cadillac cursing wildly.
“Mother-fucking shit-sucking yellow trash!” Jack Diamond stomped his feet in frustration. His hand tightened around the red phial in his hand. How could he have made such a stupid mistake?
Ever since the thought of going to the Sallow Sultan occurred to him he had barely been able to think of anything else. It became an obsession, a craving. He began to feel like if he didn’t get to Route d’abbaye he would go mad.
When it became too much to bear Jack Diamond had burst out of his office, interrupted Wu-Han in mid-thrust, shoved the phial in his pocket and ushered him out the door.
“Fuck fuck fuck!” Jack Diamond shouted. He punched the ceiling of the Cadillac crushing the overhead light, “The wrong phial! I gave him the wrong tit swallowing phial!”
He couldn’t believe it. He had shoved the gold phial of coke into Wu-Han’s pocket as he shoved him out the door. That phial was Jack Diamond’s ‘trail mix’ of cocaine, diamond shavings and the cremains of virgin Outlanders.
“Of all the dipshit luck!” Unable to contain himself Jack Diamond pulled out his Desert Eagle and smashed the passenger side window with the gun barrel. Glass flew everywhere.
That trail mix had been a special order! It had taken weeks for delivery and he knew, just knew, that Wu-Han was most likely snorting the precious stuff up like it was nothing more than cheap street corner blow.
And all that left Jack with was a Demon of If in a cheap glass phial. It was just a worthless imp of coincidence. The little spirits were like karmic piranha, only dangerous in large numbers.
“And what the fuck did he want this for? Why did he bring this corpse shitting nonsense to me? Who the fuck does he think he is? Who the fuck does he think I am? Fuckiddy fuck fuck fuck!”
Once the cursing and property damage died down the Cadillac’s chauffeur Bascomb spoke up. “Begging your pardon sir, but if you’ve lost something I can turn back.”
Jack Diamond jammed the business end of the Desert Eagle into the back of the man’s head, “You shut the Hell up! I’ll tell you where I want to go. Take me to Route d’abbaye. Get me there now!”
That done Jack Diamond re-holstered his weapon and tried to calm down. Night was falling and the streetlights of Olathoe were lighting up one by one. The car passed by the Spire and, after pausing to let a gaggle of pedestrians pass, turned right.
The thought of giving pedestrians the right of way made Jack Diamond angry all over again. What was the point of having a car with a re-enforced chassis if you didn’t use it to clip some moron on the crosswalk once in a while? There was no doubt about it, he was going to have to get his chauffeur lobotomized, it just made things so much easier.
Hell, Jack Diamond thought, Half this world needs a lobotomy.
When Jack Diamond had been a boy, living in the Louisiana swamps with his mother and fathers, he had dreamed of growing up to have prestige, power and a donkey sized dick. Now he had all that and he was miserable.
And why? Other people, that was why. Jack spent his every half-sober hour playing politics and taking orders from people that he had to accept as his superiors.
In another time, a better time, Wu-Han would be the one getting buggered by Jack’s secretary. Two thousand years ago when the Lunt family name was still Veneficus he could have had Jason Magwier crucified and burned. Better yet, he could have kept Lorelei Miller, Judy Bauer and Audra DiMico as slaves and oh the things he would make them do. In the seventeenth century kings and queens would have stepped aside to let him pass.
“Fuck that. I’d be the king,” Jack smiled, whispering to himself, “No better yet I’d be just like Louie of fuckin’ France. The Star Lord!”
“Sun King,” Bascomb said.
“The ruler of France, they called him the Sun King.”
“Oh,” And with that Jack Diamond's rage went from temper tantrums to quiet eye-twitching fury. He choked back the urge to shoot his chauffeur dead.
Partly because the man was still driving and mostly because the Kuen-Yuin paid for his chauffeurs and if he killed another one it might cost him a promotion.
Minutes later the Cadillac slowed to a stop in front of a three level brownstone that had been painted a sickly shade of yellow. Jack Diamond smiled a little, the girls that worked here wore clothes and masks made of rubbery plastic, the kind that absorbed stains and hid bruises.
He had called ahead and the grouchy pimp that ran the place, Mustard, was standing by the front door. Jack Diamond liked the semi-syphilitic old bastard, but he liked the discounts the man gave him even more.
Once he was out of the Cadillac Jack Diamond realized that the red phial was still in his hand. He thought to throw it like the garbage it was but the sudden urge to keep it won out. He slipped it into the pocket of his seersucker suit and headed up the steps of the Sallow Sultan.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
On Monday, James Michael Gregory, 34, the suspected drive-by masturbator, was allegedly seen at the bus stop by several boys as he drove by naked from the waist down while masturbating, according to the report.
This time, however, one of the boys got his car's tag number...
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Ladies please refrain from throwing your panties at your monitor...
To read the rest of Andrew Blair's article click here
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
THE COLD INSIDE
By AL BRUNO III
Tuesday November 8, 1994
The cafeteria was almost quiet, the day’s presentations on the death penalty and Amnesty International had left most of the students feeling subdued. Things at the front table seemed unchanged however; the only real difference was that Monique was now practically sitting in Evan’s lap.
Rich pushed his half-eaten sandwich away, “If I hear about the death penalty one more time I’m going to kill someone.”
“Guess you got those descriptions of what the electric chair does to a person huh?” Adelphos had skipped lunch.
Warren looked pale, but he was still eating “Ugh. Did they have to be so... graphic?”
“They were truthful.” Greg said, “Television and the movies have glorified death. Death is ugly.”
“Death is only the beginning.” Yusuf closed his eyes as he spoke, “Allah takes away men's souls upon their death, and the souls of the living during their sleep. Those that are doomed He keeps with Him and restores the others for a time ordained.”
“Cool,” Greg said, “I gotta read the Koran someday.”
“It’s a fascinating book.” The Magnificent Seven all looked up to see the janitor standing by their table, none of them had heard or seen him approach.
Warren said slowly, “Hello… Jason isn’t it?”
The janitor nodded and continued talking, “The book of God’s eternal and uncreated word, if you subscribe to such things. I’ve always been partial to Zoroastrianism myself.”
“That’s an interesting choice,” Greg stared at the janitor with bemusement.
“I dated a Zoroastrian girl, her name was Rio,” The janitor nodded, “she taught me a lot. She was double jointed, a failed escape artist.”
Tristam asked, “Do you talk to the other kids this way?”
“Oh heavens no,” the janitor smiled, “But I can tell this is where the interesting conversations take place. Eh, Warren?”
“My whole life is made up of moments like this.” Warren grumbled.
The janitor frowned for a moment and then said, “Well I must be off. Those toilets aren’t going to clean themselves… but imagine if they could. I’d be out of a job.”
Rich said, “Yeah goodbye.”
They watched the janitor leave then Drew asked, “What is with that guy?”
“I think he’s like a frustrated guidance councilor,” Adelphos said.
“Frustrated guidance councilor from Hell,” Warren shook his head. “If he keeps trying to talk to me I’m changing schools.”
Tristam smiled, “Could it really be that easy?”
Evan kept playfully flicking Monique’s ear, she would squeal and push him away. Drew noticed Tristam staring and commented, “Disgusting isn’t it?”
“What does she see in him?” He sighed.
“He’s a handsome sociopath. What’s not to love?” Warren said.
Adelphos nodded, “That’s always been my secret.”
“Bet he loves her legs wrapped around him, huh Tristam?” Warren said.
“You fat fuck...” Tristam was almost out of his chair when he heard Drew speak.
“He doesn’t love her. He’s got another girlfriend on the side.”
Tristam sat back down, the panic bled from Warren’s face “Really?”
“And how would you know that?” Greg asked.
Adelphos answered for her, “They’re neighbors remember?”
“So...” Tristam leaned in closer, “Who is it?”
“I’m not telling that,” she ran a hand over the birthmark that sprawled across her right cheek. “He’d know it was me that said something.”
“Drew, please. This could be sweet. You heard what he did to me.”
She shook her head “I’m sorry. I can’t”
“Don’t you see we can get back at Evan with this? All of us for all the crap he’s pulled,” Tristam looked around the table for support.
“Count me out. I’m not into revenge,” Greg turned his attention back to his chicken salad.
“I’m all for revenge,” Adelphos smiled, “Maybe we could blackmail him. Make him wear a little blue sailor suit to school or something.”
Rich thought aloud, “Think of the logistics of a plan like that. Where are we going to find a little blue sailor suit in this town?”
Adelphos shrugged, “We could always borrow one of Warren’s.”
“It always has to come back to me doesn’t it?” Warren said with disgust.
“You know guys,” Greg said, “the meek will inherit the Earth.”
Rich snickered, “Not in our lifetime.”
“Look Tristam, you’re new at the whole social outcast thing so I’ll try and explain,” Warren spoke as though he was addressing a child. “If we lay low and take our beatings with no squealing to the headmaster or fighting back usually... usually by the end of semester break they start to lay off on us. If we go picking fights or fighting back it will never end.”
“That’s a bad attitude man,” Adelphos rolled his eyes.
“Come on what did fighting back ever get us?”
“They’ll never respect us. Hell you punched Tristam and he doesn’t respect any of us,” Warren pointed across the table nearly toppling Yusuf’s thermos.
At times like this Tristam longed for the good old days when he could just smack Warren, “Maybe if you respected me-”
“Give it a rest guys,” Drew said with a strange little smile, “I’m not saying anything.”
Greg put his hand on Tristam’s shoulder, “Let’s drop it, please?”
Tristam pushed Greg’s hand away and stood. As he turned to go he made eye contact with Evan. Evan leered at Tristam and pulled Monique in for a kiss.
And now, the potentially better news… just days after it became widely known that the first steps are being taken toward a Nightbreed TV series, production company Sonar Entertainment have announced plans for Hellraiser: The Series. Aside from the tagline ‘Television is going to Hell’ and the vaguely smirk-inducing concept art below, not a great deal else to report. I guess it depends on their approach, but I find it hard to envisage Hellraiser lending itself to a serial format as well as Nightbreed might, and the lack of any indication that Clive Barker himself is involved gives little comfort. As we may recall Barker pronouncing of the recent Hellraiser sequel Revelations, “I have nothing to do with the fucking thing. If they claim its from the mind of Clive Barker, it’s a lie. It’s not even from my butt-hole.” One would assume his position hasn’t changed...
Monday, April 2, 2012
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Price Breaks and Heartaches
A journal of retail and failed romance
Still Not Quite What They’re Looking For
Over the last few weeks of college I kept busy with my friends and to a lesser extent my classes; I managed to score high grades in English and History and cashed and burned at anything remotely resembling higher math.
I also worked hard to find a replacement for Tallulah but my luck with the ladies was just as bad as it was with quadratic equations but at least the girls didn’t make me show my work on a sheet of scratch paper.
“I mean it.” I pounded my fist on the student lounge for emphasis. “What the Hell? A D&D game where we travel through a portal to help the Nazi’s win World War II?”
Will sighed, “It could have been better.”
“Could have been better? The Hindenburg disaster could have been better! This was pure evil.”
"You were there too Al." Will said, "I didn't see you storm out."
In truth I had wanted to storm out but Orville being there had made me too self-conscious, as it was whenever I went to the bathroom I could just feel him making snide remarks behind my back. "Look maybe we should do something else with our time."
"You want to quit the game now?"
"Yes." I said, "Because all last session Curtis was castrating dead monsters and trying to learn how to make a flesh golem. I don't want to see where this is going."
"It's kinda obvious really."
"I said I don't want to."
Ginger joined us at the table, "Hello fellow scholars."
“Ginger.” I said, “How are we doing this afternoon?”
“Got my cap and gown for graduation.” She smiled, “It’s only a two year degree but it’s a start.”
Will nodded, “My grandfather is flying in to see me walk across the stage. Who did you invite to graduation Al?”
I had to look away, “I’m not going to graduate.” With all apologies to my parents I have to admit that in the end I had no graduation date because I had no date for my graduation. Now it isn't really Tallulah's fault this happened, she wasn't the one that was too busy feeling sorry for herself to take responsibility for her own destiny. That was all me dear reader and let me assure you that over the next few years this was a talent I would develop a mastery over. The ceremony was held at Proctor's theater in Schenectady and I wasn't sure if the graduating class was too large or if the venue was too small but I was sure that the Valedictorian's speech made no sense whatsoever- especially when she started quoting from Casey Kasem. I watched my friends march across the stage one by one wondering to myself if I had made yet another bad decision but I knew somehow my destiny lay elsewhere I knew that someday people all over the world would be reading my work. I mean sure there are only 50 or so of you but you are from all over the world damnit!
After the ceremony there was a gathering at Ginger’s home, where the cakes and coffees only served to accent the whole funeral atmosphere.
"I can’t believe you were there with us." She said. There were a dozen or so graduates of varying ages milling around her house, swapping stories and discussing short term and long term plans.
"But there’s so much more to learn." I mustered a smile, "Maybe I’ll go for a teaching degree or a master’s degree in performance art or Lovecraft Studies."
Will was eating a cupcake, vanilla frosting had gotten up his nose making him look like a coke addict with bad allergies, "I thought you were thinking about acting?"
"Well, kinda." I said and I will confess to you constant readers that one of my lost dreams was to act in a horror film, specifically I had wanted to be the slasher’s first victim. You know what I mean, the fat kid left alone at the campfire while all the other kids wander off into the woods to have sex. Sadly I am too old and bald to play such a part now but if any of you aspiring directors out there need someone to play a creepy janitor or deranged transvestite I could be just what you need. Call my agent.
Ginger placed a hand on my shoulder, "Well just keep at your studies. I thought I was going to take a year off from college and I ended up finally getting my degree almost twenty years later."
"Don’t worry. That won’t happen to me." If I hadn’t been too busy gnawing on a piece of stale coffee cake I might have heard the gods of irony laughing hysterically.
"I think I might get into teaching too." Pricilla said.
"There’s no money in that." Her boyfriend said, he was a man of equal parts rugged good looks and selfish two year old, so of course she was crazy about him.
Will on the other hand looked like he wanted to smother him with a doily. Just a few minutes of talking to the man made me want to help.
Her boyfriend said, "We’re not going to be able to get married like you want if you’re too busy being a full time student. It perturbs me."
"Well," I said, "What’s more important? Working to live or living to work?"
Ginger smiled, "What a great thought Al."
"Thanks." I preened, "I totally stole it."
Pricilla gave me a nudge, "Stealing material? You’re a real writer now."
Her boyfriend stared at his eighty dollar sneakers, "This conversation perturbs me. People work because they have to. The only people that enjoy their work are artists."
I poured myself a soda, "I’m not sure if Vincent Van Gogh would agree with you."
Pricilla said, "Well all I know is that we haven’t heard the last from you Al. I expect that one of these days I’m going to walk into a bookstore and find you there."
I shrugged, "Well I do work at a book store."
"That’s not what I meant you big goof." Pricilla gave her boyfriend a big hug, "What did I tell you about him? You should read one of his stories sometime."
Her boyfriend shrugged her off, "Hey you know what I told you about public displays of affection. They perturb me."
"You know," I said, "you could just skip ahead on your word-a-day calendar. No one would judge you."