Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Black Box Inc.! Happy birthday to you!
That’s right, y’all, Black Box Inc. is officially in the wild. Check it out below then get to that clickety clacking and that bookity buying, yo.
The world as we know it is gone. Since the “extradimensional happening,” every creature, monster, and fairy tale goblin has turned Asheville, North Carolina, into their personal playground. An uneasy truce exists between the races, but Chase Lawter’s unique ability puts him squarely in the crosshairs of treachery, feuds, and monsters looking to make a buck on black market goods. Chase is the only known being who can pull material from between dimensions and shape it into whatever he likes—like boxes. Like boxes in which folks hide smoking guns and severed heads. Only Chase can hide the boxes, and only Chase can recover them from the Dim. All for a tidy sum, of course.
His crack team—a yeti, a zombie, and a fae-trained assassin—have his back. What could possibly go wrong?
Well, it’s Friday the 13th! What a way to party, eh?
Now, on with the drabble!
First, let me say thank you for providing all those immoral, nubile, drug-addicted teenagers for me to slaughter. I appreciate the gesture.
But that’s not why I’m writing. This is a lot of work to do alone. I was hoping maybe you could send a friend? Someone good with knives? It’s asking a lot, but you’re God, so…
Thank you for listening, and thank you for the whole immortality thing. Comes in handy when I’m set on fire, stabbed, shot, blown up, and run over by various vehicles.
Hope you and Jesus are doing well.
Disclaimer: Machetes, am I right?
Hey, hey, hey! It’s Friiiiiiiiiiiii-day!
Time to party, y’all!
And by party, I mean read some micro-fiction. Oh, yeah!
But, before you hop into the 100 words of incredible, how’s about you go show Razer Edge some love? I know you’ve read it. Right? RIGHT? Click the pic and leave a review, if you would be so kind. Reviews are the lifeblood of small press writers. I NEED MY LIFEBLOOD!
Anyhoo, a review would be greatly appreciated. Thanks.
Now, on with the drabble!
The gun’s jammed… Shit.
This never happens. I meticulously check weapons before a job. In fact, I’m so paranoid about guns jamming that I rarely, almost never, use semi-automatic pistols and prefer revolvers exclusively.
But, Tammy stole my .38, and Gil’s Glock 9mm kept jamming, so I gave him my Colt revolver, which left me with my Beretta .45. Normally a most reliable pistol. Normally…
I keep trying, but the slide is stuck. Dead stuck. A lot like me.
The squeal of feedback echoes through the broken glass window.
“Come out, Tiny! It’s all over!”
I guess it is.
Disclaimer: You’ll never take me alive, copper!
Well, it’s been a week, that’s for sure.
Hey, there has been some tragedy in our lives here in Asheville. One of my wife’s co-workers lost two of her sons in a car accident this week. There are medical costs, funeral costs, and vehicle costs she’s going to need help with. If you have a spare dollar, please help. CLICK HERE TO HELP.
On with the Drabble.
The yellow line was so faded from time and the elements that Chessie could barely make it out in the pitch black of night. A little bit of reflection here, a hint of color there, that was all she could see.
The night wore on and on. Chessie kept driving.
Hours upon hours passed and daylight never returned. The clock on her dashboard never changed. The yellow line never got easier to see. Chessie kept driving.
There was a song on the radio, but she hadn’t turned on the radio.
Chessie sang along, somehow knowing the words.
Chessie kept driving.
Disclaimer: CLICK HERE TO HELP
Welcome back to another episode of Writing In Suburbia!
This episode I talk a lot about being a writer and having political opinions. It’s something on people’s minds right now. I also talk about how to work with others that may not subscribe to your beliefs.
It’s a hard topic and I think I handled it well. You be the judge.
Oh, and before you enjoy, maybe go leave a review for Razer Edge? Yes. Go do that!