Yo! What’s up, Party People? You ready for some drabbletastic delights? Yeah, you are!
Of course, before we get to the 100 Words of Awesome, we must first explore all the goodness that has been delivered to the internet this week by yours truly. By me, in case the yours truly thing doesn’t translate to your culture/generation/species/etc.
And I also uploaded a new video to my YouTube Writing Advice series. Checking that out is something else you should do. Right now. Go check it out. Do it. You wanna, you know it. Do it. Come on.
As always, I gotta shill me some Max Rage: Intergalactic Badass! If you haven’t read it then get on that! If you have read it then please leave a review! REVIEW!
Now, on with the drabble!
Not For Me
Hailey studied the ancient inscription, staring at it for hours before finally uncurling her legs from under her to stand. The numbness that spread in her limbs threatened to topple her into the dirt and musky flowers that surrounded the broken idol.
“Miss?” Algernon asked. “Have you found what you seek?”
Hailey smiled a sad, knowing smile at her assistant.
“I did, Al,” Hailey said. “But what I found is not for me.”
Hailey picked up her bag, shooing Algernon’s hands away from the canvas sack, and hiked back into the jungle to reverse the trek she’d spent months taking.
Disclaimer: My leg’s asleep!
YOU! YES, YOU!
Hold on, let me turn the volume down… There we go. Let’s try this again…
You! Yes, you! You have not purchased Max Rage. I am disappointed. It’s great. The perfect summer fun read. All kinds of action and adventure, foul language and sex, many a pun and bad joke. Get on it!
Here is a picture to click to assist you in your purchasing of Max Rage: Intergalactic Badass!
Now, I bet you want a drabble? Huh? Did you click the pic and buy Max Rage? I’ll wait. I have all the time in the world.
Okay, on with the drabble!
“All eighty-five dead!” Wilson called out from the bottom of the chasm. “Eighty-five!”
Melors and Ralf stared down into the darkness while Crispin shook his head.
“Melors?” Crispin asked. “You ready?”
“Eighty-five, man,” Melors replied.
“It’s what you’re here for,” Ralf said.
“I know!” Melors shouted then calmed herself. “I know. But eighty-five? That’s a lot of meat.”
“We didn’t chase them here to take their wallets,” Crispin said. “You’re the professional butcher.”
Melors looked to Ralf, but he couldn’t meet her eye.
“Stupid apocalypse,” Melors muttered, stepping onto the chasm’s rope ladder. “I miss McDonalds.”
Disclaimer: You know what to do!
Yo! Welcome to the Friday after 4th of July!
For those not in the US of A, we call this Friday “Stop shooting off fireworks, you dumb redneck sons of bitches!”.
But, despite being an Intergalactic Badass, Max Rage needs your help! The ebook is hovering in the charts. Not going up, not going down, just hovering. If y’all could buy a copy and give a little nudge, that’d be awesome. And, if you’ve already bought the ebook then please leave a review! Reviews are the lifeblood of authors!
Now, click the giant pic and get you some Max Rage: Intergalactic Badass!
Did ya click? I sure hope so. I sure hope so…
Kitteridge never met a fight he didn’t want to join.
So, upon seeing the melee occurring just outside the door to his hotel, Kitteridge simply could not help himself.
The first person he encountered tried to snap his wrist. Kitteridge was having none of that. A strike to the throat brought a slow death.
The second person had a weapon. A lead pipe. Kitteridge found this infinitely amusing and laughed as he took the pipe and crushed the man’s head.
The third person had a pistol. He shot Kitteridge.
“A pistol. How droll,” were Kitteridge’s last words.
How droll indeed.
Disclaimer: Did ya click?
Happy Friday, y’all!
Time for another edition of the Friday Night Drabble Party! Huzzah!
But, before we get into the 100 words of greatness, how about you check out the brand spanking new audiobook edition of The Flipside? DO IT! CHECK IT OUT!
Get yourself to The Flipside!
Now, on with the drabble!
Dash ignored the man shaking the tattered paper cup up at him from the sidewalk. Lawrence paused and dropped some change in the cup. Dash waited until they’d walked a few yards away before turning to glare at Lawrence.
“Why’d you do that? Don’t encourage the bums,” Dash said.
“Bum? Oh, that’s Michael Namath. You know, the famous writer?” Lawrence replied.
“What? Him? He looks homeless,” Dash said, glancing back over his shoulder at the disheveled man, cup still held up for those that cared.
“Oh, he is homeless. He’s a writer,” Lawrence replied. “So, I’m thinking sushi for lunch.”
Disclaimer: The Flipside in your earholes!
Time for some summer fun! While you read this, I’m roasting chestnuts on an open fire and hanging the stockings with care. …what? Oh, right…. wrong script. Gimme a sec.
*checks notes on seasons*
Okay, got it.
Watermelon! Swimming holes! Sunburns! Cornhole (It’s a game. Look it up.)! Hot dogs and hangin’ with friends! BEER!
Phew. I’m exhausted after all that summer fun listing.
How about I talk about cool stuff that dropped this week? OKAY!
There’s a new episode of Writing In Suburbia! I interviewed New York Times Bestselling author Beth Revis!
And, since we’re on the subject of writing advice, I now have a series of videos on YouTube! Check them out too!
Now, how about we get on with the drabble? Huzzah!
Edgar fidgeted, nearly dropping the snub nose .38 he held in his shaking, sweaty hands. The night was incredibly humid, even for the rainy season, and he was having a hard time keeping the car’s windows from steaming up so he could see the apartment building’s front door.
“This is for them,” he whispered in the dark car. “You do this for them.”
The apartment door opened, but Edgar couldn’t see who was coming out. He chanced it and slowly opened the car door. The person froze on the steps. Edgar jumped out, raised the revolver, and fired.
Disclaimer: Go get some advice!