I would like to warmly welcome you back to another Party! Help yourself to some Drabbles and don’t be self-conscious if you read some of the backlog. Binging Drabbles is good for one’s health! SCIENCE!
Now to the drabble!
The Foul Things
Carlos hated pickles. Dill, sweet- he couldn’t stand the foul things.
So, to be trapped in a convenience store with pickle juice dripping off the shelf onto his head, while being shot at, was the ultimate insult.
“Come on, Carlos! We don’t have all day! Give us the food and we’ll just go our separate ways!”
Carlos hated that voice as much as he hated pickles.
“Bite me, Lyle!” Carlos yelled. He refused to tell the man that there was no food left, just disgusting pickles. The principle of post-apocalyptic scavenging had to be upheld. “Go raid somewhere else!”
Disclaimer: You’re a disclaimer!
Aaaaaaannnnnnnd IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-eeeeee-IIIIIIIIIII-eeeee-IIIIIIIIIIII will always love Draaaaaaaaabbbbbbblllle! Will always love Draaaaaaabbbbbblllle! Will always love-. No, wait, put the shtogun down! NO! PLEA-!
Thank you, thank you. Yes, that was my musical/dramatic interpretation of Quentin Tarantino’s The Drabbleguard.
Happy Friday, Mother F$*&ers!
Soooo, how’s it going? Ready for some free micro-fiction? Well, then let’s get to it!
The microphone was kicked from the stage as the pop star moved forward, her face passive, serene.
The crowd screamed, their eyes wide with horror and disbelief as their idol turned on them, came at them.
Another shot rang out and another. The blood spray covered the first two rows of spectators as security guards collapsed, and the screams intensified, doubled, tripled. More shots. Again and again. More blood.
The pop star jumped off the stage and rolled, taking aim at the crowd once again. She emptied the magazine, so glad to finally give in to the madness. So glad.
Disclaimer: Gargle. Always gargle.
YO! It’s Friday Night! There be a Drabble in this Party!
Not only is there a drabble, but there’s a link to the newly released Mega 3: When Giants Collide! Let’s see that beautiful bean footage!
Now, on to the drabble!
“The interesting thing is how the creature reacts to various stimuli,” Dr. Roberts said. “Observe.”
The doctor threw a lit bag of feces into the cage.
“Dude!” the creature shouted. “What the hell, man? Is that poo? Why the hell are you throwing flaming poo at me?”
“It has become irritated,” Dr. Roberts observed. “It uses it’s primitive language to express that irritation.”
“Irritation? Dude, I’m pissed! That’s gross!” the creature exclaimed.
“Now, let’s see how it reacts when we expose it to raw uranium,” Dr. Roberts said.
“What? DUDE! NO URANIUM!”
“Pitiful,” one of the observers said. “So pitiful.”
Disclaimer: NO URANIUM!
O! M! G! It’s Halloween AND the Friday Night Drabble Party!
Got to calm down, got to calm down, got to- HALLOWEEN! I love it, I love it, I love it!
Know what else I love? Dead Mech on sale for $.99! (Segue for the mofo win, yo!) If you haven’t read my zombies/mechs/zombies in mechs mash-up then go spend a dollar and get you some seriously fun post-apocalyptic goodness! Clicky linky here!
Oooh, wait, there’s more! And this novel is actually Halloween themed! Be sure and check out Intentional Haunting, my latest release. It’s Teen horror, so kinda a mix of John Green and Stephen King in that classic Jake Bible style y’all love so much! Clicky another linky here!
Now, how’s about we get on with the Halloween drabble?
The Darkness Thirsts
“I SUMMON THEE, SATAN! SHOW ME YOUR DARK MAJESTY! GRACE US WITH YOUR EVIL PRESENCE!”
“Who dares summon me?” the Devil asked as he appeared in a puff of smoke in the center of the abandoned church.
“It is I, Master!” the man in the robes replied. “Your humble servant and-.”
“Sweet. Get me a latte from Starbucks, servant. Whole milk, two shots of vanilla. No cinnamon or nutmeg. NO CINNAMON OR NUTMEG!”
“God, I love Halloween,” the Devil sighed as the robed man hurried from the church and out to his Prius. “Free lattes rock.”
Disclaimer: If the Devil asks you to get him a latte, don’t get the two shots of vanilla. The guy is diabetic and in denial. Don’t be an enabler.
Another Friday is upon us! LET THERE BE DRABBLE!
Sooooooo, how’s your week been? Mmm-hmm… Right… Really? With Kevin? You don’t say… Oh, now that’s just lazy.
Anyhoo, my week has been good. I’ve been writing the hell out of Reign of Four: III. That medieval space fiction is some fun stuff! Y’all are gonna dig it when it comes out next year!
Know what else you’re gonna dig? A drabble!
Let’s get to it!
Not In A Row
“I just sign?” Victor asked.
“On the dotted line, baby,” Mr. Hob grinned. “Then you get to live a million days.”
“No tricks, right?” Victor frowned.
Mr. Hob snapped his fingers. “Nope.”
Victor hesitated then pierced his fingertip and signed.
“There,” Victor smiled. “Done!”
He stood there for a second then grabbed his chest and collapsed.
“What…?” Victor gasped.
“Right,” Mr. Hob smiled. “I never said the days would be in a row. Hopefully you wake up before they bury you.”
Mr. Hob walked off, a skip in his step, a whistle on his lips, another soul in his pocket.
Disclaimer: Don’t go down to the crossroads and try to flag a ride.