Well, hello there! Y’all just swinging by to shoot the shit? Oh, what’s that? You want a drabble? A FREE drabble?
Well, hot damn, are you in the right place!
Not gonna do any shilling tonight (BUY IN PERPETUITY!) and just gonna get right to the mighty micro-fiction that has you all hot and bothered.
The cocktails were served, the conversation was lively, the atmosphere of the evening was friendly.
Except for the matter of the corpse in the corner.
Folks tried to ignore it, to turn their heads and pretend that they had more relevant things to discuss. But, there it sat, refusing to leave.
“Didn’t even wear cocktail attire,” one woman scoffed, rolling her eyes.
“I know,” another replied, disgusted. “The nerve.”
There was a sigh of relief when a server finally hefted it over his shoulder and took it from the room.
More cocktails were served. It turned into a lovely evening.
Disclaimer: It’s okay to get hot and bothered by 100 words. It’s a perfectly normal part of life.
It’s time for another Party! Time for more 100 word goodness! It’s Friday!
And, while I have you hear, how’s about we chat a little about In Perpetuity? I know ya want to.
In Perpetuity is my latest novel, a military space opera romp set on a training station that orbits Earth. There’s plenty of action, blood, guns, spacefighters, sex, foul language, aliens, intrigue, sabotage, and plasma rifles. PLASMA RIFLES!
If you have a spare moment, and you’ve read In Perpetuity, then hop on over to Amazon and give that puppy a review. I hate to ask, but the unfortunate reality is that reviews help with rankings and rankings help with visibility and visibility helps with sales. It’s a shitty chain reaction that makes me feel dirty just writing about, but dems da breaks, right? Right.
Okay, enough shilling. How’s about a drabble?
Small people. Really, really, small people.
“Uh, hello?” you call out. “Are you real?”
They answer you, their itty bitty mouths moving, but their voices are so small, so tiny, that you can’t hear them. It’s like a far off squeak from a porch swing a few blocks over.
“Can you speak up?” you ask. “I’m having a hard time- Ow! Hey!”
They speak up, all right. They speak up with tiny pistols and tiny rifles, sending microscopic bullets at your face.
“Stop that!” you yell. “Stop!”
They do not.
Your boot ends it all in a sad, anticlimactic way.
Disclaimer: Dems da breaks.
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!
The Party is back and it is better than ever!
Okay, it’s probably not better than ever because how can you improve on perfection?
I kid! I joke! I cry? I don’t know. It’s one of those Fridays. My head is swirling with graphic novel pitches, new novel plots, nonprofit organization structures (high school drama booster club), the fact I’ll be seeing Loretta Lynn at a casino this weekend, and Daredevil is on Netflix. Crazy, man, crazy.
Know what else is crazy? Military space opera! What? Bad segue? I don’t care! Check out my latest novel below and go get you some! It’s all 100% Jake Bible with plenty of gore, blood, foul language, action, and spaceships making pew pew noises and blowing stuff up! Hell yeah!
IN PERPETUITY WE LIVE!
IN PERPETUITY WE FIGHT!
IN PERPETUITY WE DIE!
For two thousand years, Earth and her many colonies across the galaxy have fought against the Estelian menace. Having faced overwhelming losses, the CSC has instituted the largest military draft ever, conscripting millions into the battle against the aliens. Major Bartram North, Chief Training Officer on the CSC Training Station Perpetuity, has been tasked with the unenviable task of coordinating the military education of hundreds of thousands of recruits and turning them into troops ready to fight and die for the cause.
As Major North struggles to maintain a training pace that the CSC insists upon, he realizes something isn’t right on the Perpetuity. But before he can investigate, the station dissolves into madness brought on by the physical booster known as pharma. Unfortunately for Major North, that is not the only nightmare he faces- an armada of Estelian warships is on the edge of the solar system and headed right for Earth!
Major North has one chance to find out the truth, rescue the Perpetuity from its madness, and defend the Earth from attack, or all of humanity could be lost forever!
How do you like them apples? (There are no literal apples. Stop looking for apples.)
Now, on to the drabble!
There was nothing left.
Collin stared at the void, his eyes desperate to see signs of life, signs of existence, signs of anything. Just…nothing.
He turned from the void and faced the mountain, his searching eyes relieved to focus on something substantive. The snowy peaks, the dark green tree line, the almost perceptible waterfall that split its face.
Then the shimmering began, just as it had with the rest of the world.
“No,” Collin whispered, knowing there was no one to hear him.
And like that the mountain was gone.
Collin stared into the void.
There was nothing left.
Disclaimer: I said there are no apples!
Spring break, bitches!
Yep, I will be heading down to FLA on Sunday to go party it up!
Okay, okay, I’ll actually be in the minivan with the Fam for most of Sunday as we go see my sister and then head out to see some friends where more than likely I will end up napping in a lounge chair for most of the week.
Spring break napping, bitches!
That’s how I roll.
In honor of spring break, and the fact that I will not be posting next week because of the HARDCORE NAPPING, I am giving you all a little blast from the past. I have pulled out one of my first paid submissions: The Seven Deadly Drabbles!
This collection of drabbles was originally produced by the Drabblecast way back in ’09 (’08?) and I’m pretty proud of it. Shit, Pride is one of the sins. Dammit.
Anyhoo, I hope you dig them and learn something from these little tidbits or morality. Just remember, when you are busy slurping Jell-O shots from a co-ed’s cleavage, you are putting your immortal soul in danger. Not to mention the sanitation issues of sucking stuff from other people’s bodies. Ewww, gross.
The Seven Deadly Drabbles
“Just How Safe Is Imported Food, And What Can You Do About It?” the headline ran.
I don’t know, he thought. What can I do about it?
He took the second to last bite of his imported prosciutto, fresh mozzarella and olive tapenade panini while scanning the article.
“Wow,” he said aloud. “There really isn’t much I can do.”
“That’s right, bitch,” his Italian sandwich snapped. “Not a goddamn thing.”
He felt the fever build and saw glorious colors before his eyes. How could such a delicious sandwich be so mean?, he thought, finishing the last bite before satiated oblivion.
When Alan turned his back to the shower head to rinse the shampoo from his hair, his penis couldn’t help but notice the new guy, Fernando, walking into the locker room showers.
Wow, his penis thought, when he saw the new guy’s member. Now that’s a shlong.
Alan turned back around to face the shower wall, grabbed a bar of soap and started lathering his crotch with it.
I could never live up to that, his penis thought while enduring the sudsy onslaught. Why even bother anymore? What’s the freakin’ point?
Alan’s penis sighed, depressed, and peed in the drain.
Betty waited all afternoon with the blanket in her hands, waiting for Tommy to come home.
When the door creaked open, she pounced, pulling the blanket over Tommy, pinning his arms to his side. He cried out in surprise.
Although Tommy was bigger, Betty used her momentum to knock her brother’s legs out from under him and slam him to the floor. Keeping him pinned, Betty yanked Tommy’s shoes and socks off and pulled a large, white feather from her back pocket.
“Make me pee my pants, will ya!” she cried, as she set to work on his exposed feet.
Cade and Worthington stood on the edge of the building and watched as millions below fornicated. The entire city was in the streets, naked and writhing in one last gasp of carnal passion.
“Damn! Look at ‘em go,” Worthington said, slapping his knee. He turned to look at Cade and narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“What? What are you looking at?” he asked.
“My date for the End Of Days,” Cade grinned, licking his lips invitingly.
“Okay, but I get tops this time,” Worthington sighed.
The demons joined hands and stepped off the roof to join the horny hordes below.
“Ten pounds of flesh,” Boltstone said, without taking his eyes from his work.
“What?” Damascus replied. “That’s insane.”
Boltstone looked up from his ledger and set his pen down. He pulled off his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Setting his spectacles aside, he glared at Damascus.
“Price went up,” Boltstone growled.
Damascus started to object, but feeling the stares from those in the infinite line behind him, he angrily flipped open his courier’s bag and grabbed two bloody, dripping muslin bags. He slapped them on the counter and huffed away.
“Next,” Boltstone sighed, replacing his glasses.
“Holy crap dude, you’re a freaking zombie!” Jessup cried.
“Bite me,” Mort snapped back.
“No, dude, seriously, you’re a zombie. Flesh eating undead and all, man,” Jessup pressed. “You should really see yourself. You ain’t looking so hot.”
Mort glared at his best friend. “You know what, Jessup? I am really sick and tired of your bullshit.”
“Fine, whatever, dude. I’m outta here. I’ll call ya later.” Jessup grabbed his brown hoody and crawled out Mort’s bedroom window. “Just don’t let ‘em catch you outside, okay?”
Mort watched him leave, then flung his mother’s half-eaten brains at the window.
Reynolds wept from the pain. The Captain had warned him. The Chief Medical Officer had warned him. Hell, the fat ass Chief Engineer had warned him.
“Work out in full G at least three times a day or your muscles will atrophy,” everyone said.
Reynolds didn’t like full G; weightlessness was bliss and why leave bliss?
When the ship entered orbit and full G was forced upon all compartments as part of the re-entry protocol, Reynolds’ legs had snapped almost instantly from lack of use and supporting muscle.
He stared up at the intercom, four impossible feet above him.
Disclaimer: Morality is in the eye of the beholder.