I was making some audio promos and decided to turn them into video promos as well. Check them out when you get a chance and feel free to share away!
Let the Party begin!
As you read this I will have just seen American Sniper (or still seeing it, depending on your time zone). I am now an expert sniper. You all have crosshairs on you. DON’T EVEN TRY TO RUN!
Just kidding. WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?
So, who’s up for a drabble?
Speaking of drabbles, looks like Dead Mech is on sale for $.99! Go get that. DO IT! STOP RUNNING!
Onto the micro-fiction!
That Explains It
“Wind is sixty-five knots.”
“That’s really fast.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Can we slow the wind down?”
“Can we slow it down? Maybe to twenty knots?”
“Uh, no. It’s the wind. We have no control-.”
“In the simulations you can slow it down.”
“This isn’t a simulation.”
“So? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Do you understand how weather works?”
“Sure. If you don’t like it then change it. Or go somewhere else.”
“How the holy hell did you get this job?”
“My dad bought me the commission.”
“That explains it.”
“So…about the wind?”
Disclaimer: YOU CAN NEVER RUN FAR ENOUGH!
Oh, yeah, it’s Party time!
But, I don’t have much time because I gots to be writing/editing my middle grade scifi/horror series! Yes, folks, you heard that right, I’m writing for the kiddies!
I WILL WARP THE MINDS OF EVERY GENERATION!
I think your kids will dig the new series. It’s Goosebumps meets the Scooby Gang set in deep space! Huzzah!
Now, on to the drabble!
Beware The Moors!
“BEWARE THE MOORS!” the old man cried.
“Does he mean the swamps?” I asked my companion.
“The swamps?” my companion replied.
“Well, yes, swamps. Are not moors a type of swamp?”
“BEWARE THE MOORS!” the old man cried again before pissing himself.
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” my companion said. “Shall we go?”
“But what about the moors? Are they swamps or not?”
“They can be made of wetlands, but are primarily grasslands like highland savannas.”
“BEWARE THE MOORS!”
The ghostly apparitions rode towards us with their scimitars swinging in the foggy night.
“Oh, those Moors.”
Disclaimer: BEWARE THE MOORS!
Well, hello there! Back for some more Drabble Party action? Oh, hells to the yes you are!
Not gonna pimp any books or audiobooks tonight. But I will point you to a guest blog post that Starla Huchton wrote for Views From The Captain’s Chair! If you are a writer and want to know a little about some serious internet marketing campaign fu, then have a read. It’s good stuff.
Now, on to the drabble!
All About The Rules
“It doesn’t specifically say that I’m disqualified if I kill the other contestants,” Jaime smiled. “Read the rules. Sure, I can be arrested, but you can’t disqualify me.”
“It clearly states that if you break any local, state, or federal laws then you are out,” Morgan said, tapping the clipboard that was always clutched in his hands. “Just because you are the last one left alive, does not mean you automatically win.”
“But I haven’t broken any laws until I’m convicted,” Jaime insisted. “Innocent until proven guilty.”
“He’s right,” Stanford sighed. “Give him the damn trophy. Then call the cops.”
Disclaimer: Sometimes it’s more about the spirit of the thing.
And here we are again, my friends. Another week coming to a close, another Drabble ready to Party. The circle of life, bitches. The circle of life…
Time to get our drabble on!
First, though, gotta plug the new stuff!
They have failed.
All that’s left are the Strains- bacteria so strong they have brought the world to its knees.
But humanity has fought on, carving out pockets of civilization in a wasteland known as the Sicklands, creating the super high-tech Clean Nation cities.
And from the cities GenSOF has been born- Genetic Special Forces Operations. An elite military branch of the government that enlists men and women with specific genetic anomalies that allow them to be hosts to bacteria that even the Strains cannot defeat. Under the watchful eye of Control, GenSOF protects the Clean Nation cities from the ever encroaching Strains and the diseased inhabitants of the Sicklands.
But now Control has other plans for GenSOF, and possibly the Clean Nation cities themselves, and it is up to the operators of GenSOF Zebra Squad, and their cloned Canine Units known as bug hounds, to find out what those plans are.
Or die trying.
Click that pic and go get ya some AntiBio action! And!
In the post-apocalyptic, zombie infested wasteland, there is one beacon of safety in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains: The Stronghold.
For decades, the inhabitants have fortified and defended the Stronghold from zombie hordes, building their society and culture on military precision.
And chosen from the best of the best is Denver Team Alpha. DTA is the elite strike force used to rescue survivors and refugees that have made it to the hellish wasteland of Denver below. But because of the unbelievable risks, and high mortality rate, DTA has come to stand for something else: Dead Team Alpha.
Now DTA will be put to the test as something far worse than zombies comes at them out of the wasteland.
Click that pic and go get ya some Dead Team Alpha action! And!
Don’t feel like reading? Then have a listen to some audiobooks! Z-Burbia 2: Parkway To Hell just came out! Rock on!
Yep, I recycled some of the same announcements as last Friday. That’s how I roll, yo. Gotta keep up the Lazy Writer appearance. Don’t want anyone to think I work for a living.
Speaking of work, I’ll be incommunicado the next few days because I have a deadline to meet and my latest novel, Mega 2: Baja Blood, started slow. It’ll all come together, I’m sure, just going to be some long days and stressful nights. Huzzah!
Now, to the drabble!
“He has some foreign object in his throat!” the doctor yelled. “Forceps! Now!”
“I’m sorry, doctor, but we have to call Security,” the nurse replied.
“What are you talking about?” the doctor said. “This man is choking!”
“Yes, but all foreigners, even objects, must be reported to Security for investigation and processing,” the nurse replied.
The doctor stared at her. “Are you joking?”
“No, doctor,” the nurse replied. “We have to alert Security.” Then she cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “Unless you’re part of the Resistance. Are you, doctor?”
“Uh…no,” the doctor said. “I, uh, will call Security.”
Disclaimer: Damn foreign objects! They took our jobs!