Look at this thing of beauty! Kaiju with three heads! THREE HEADS!
For those that do not know what Kaiju are, just think Godzilla and all those giant monsters. That’s Kaiju. Kaiju are cool.
And, since Kaiju are cool, Severed Press has released book two in my Kaiju Winter series.
Kaiju Storm has been unleashed upon the world! And by “unleashed”, I mean published and ready for your eyeholes to absorb. Yay for eyehole absorption!
The Yellowstone supervolcano has erupted and out of the massive chasm of its smoldering caldera came the kaiju- giant monsters bent on destroying everything in sight! Federal Marshal Lu Morgan and her ragtag group of survivors and government agents fought hard to stay alive and defeat the massive monsters, but now a second eruption has sent things even more deadly flying up into the ash cloud that covers the land.
The US government, the survivors of the eruption, and a team of scientists must fight a new evil that falls from the sky and turns animals, and people, into grotesque creatures bent on killing every living thing in their path. It is a race against time, and a race for survival, as all involved struggle to find answers as to where the monsters came from and how to stop them.
If stopping them is even possible!
It’s Friday Night Drabble Party featuring the Drabbletastic Dancers!
Okay, sorry, no dancers. I just don’t have the budget for them. You’ll have to settle for me in an elf suit doing an awkward jig.
Hey! Come back! There’s free micro-fiction!
“Braising is the way to get the meat tender,” Marcus said.
“Pit cooking,” Clyde replied. “Bury it deep with hot coals then don’t touch for twenty-four hours.”
“Too long, man,” Marcus laughed.
“Stew,” Arlene said. “You get meat and veggies in one dish. Easy to freeze.”
“Like we have a freezer,” Marcus smirked.
“Winter is nature’s freezer,” Arlene smiled.
“That’s weeks away,” Clyde said. “Pit cook it.”
“I’m not an it!” Brian whined.
“However we cook it,” Marcus said. “It kinda has to be dead first.”
“Oops,” Clyde laughed.
Arlene and Marcus joined in the laughter.
Brian did not.
Disclaimer: all meat should be cooked to an even temperature of 165 degrees before consuming to avoid illness.
So, instead of a drabble, I’m going to talk about Indies First Small Business Saturday. I know, I know, it’s not as exciting as ripping someone’s throat out over a 40″ HDTV, but bear with me here.
Indies First is an idea created by author Sherman Alexie as a way for authors to give back to their local, independent bookstores. Basically, all across the country (and world) authors are volunteering their time to help sell some books! I will be a part of this at my local bookstore, Malaprop’s. Come find me from 11-1 on Saturday the 29th. I’ll be available to help you find that perfect gift for the book lover, or book liker, in your family or circle of friends.
Want to know more about the event? Here is a statement put out by Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer. Have a read and I hope you head to your local indie bookstore! Maybe you’ll run into me!
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.