Upon Dying

Dearest Janet,

With every day gone by, I lose hope that I will ever find you. It has been 20 days since it happened, and as of this afternoon I have only come across one group of living people. They hadn't seen you. There are rumors, they said, of a camp up north where people have gathered, where food and shelter are available. Maybe you're there, they said. I can only hope.

It's so cold, Janet. Tonight I've taken shelter in an abandoned home near the river. It's been looted and the timber is still smoldering, but it shields me from the piercing winds. I pray that you are in the camp up north. I pray that they are keeping you warmer than I am. I pray that you're not weak with hunger.

O, kind Janet! How I miss gazing upon your beautiful face, losing myself in your bright blue eyes! How I miss holding you, talking about nothing and everything for hours on end! Elegant Janet, how I long to once more be able to share one more night with you eating Domino's new Pizza Bowls!

Beautiful Janet, when I find myself losing faith in this new grey, unforgiving world, I think back to our first night having Domino's new Pizza Bowls. I think back to the bowl, make of pizza crust. Garlicky. Salty. Bowl-shaped. I think of the full pound of cheese in each personal Pizza Bowl; the sauce, almost sickeningly sweet. I think of the various toppings offered: pepperoni, sausage, bacon, and other meats. But most of all, my agreeable Janet, I think of the corn. The corn! Each of Domino's new Pizza Bowls is literally filled with more corn than you have ever seen in your life! More corn than any sane person would willingly eat! One full pound of mozzarella* cheese, pizza sauce, various toppings and enough corn to feed a small Vietnamese village all in one garlicky, edible bowl for only 7.99 each! O Janet, how I miss that night.

It is time to say goodnight, my stalwart Janet. Tomorrow I will continue my search for you. I found a punctured can of Spam on the road yesterday. I planned to save it for longer, but I've already collapsed twice today, and I fear if I don't eat soon I will never see your normal face again. I pray that I see you soon, O sturdy Janet, and we can once again eat Domino's new Pizza Bowls, even in this new dark, cold reality.

Always,

E. Hemmingway

VALENTIPS

Sup bros, I know it’s been like ten months or something since my last post, but I’m back just in time to offer up a few helpful tips for the big day. As you know, Valentine’s Day is here, and you know what that means: spending a bunch of ca$h on your little lady. BUT IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE! I’m here to show you how to save your hard earned bacon or whatever while still charming her enough to not dump you.

1. GIFTS

We all know that the only thing girls love more than crappy movies is GIFTS. Obviously diamonds are a girl’s best ______, but what if you’re unemployed/a cheap c-hole? Well how about making something for your sweet tart? Instead of shelling out sixty bucks for a dozen roses, how about picking some wildflowers from the side of the road? Or since it’s probably winter where you are and all life is dead, gather a bunch of sticks off the ground! It’s the allure of nature without the hefty price tag! For a festive touch, hold the faggot together with some duct tape that you can color red with a marker! And for the sparkle of diamonds, just glue shards of mirror onto the sticks with a hot glue gun! Careful, these Winter Roses have thorns!

Now if you’re with someone you REALLY love, Winter Roses may not cut it. In this case, it’s important to give something very personal. Last year, for example, I gave my girlfriend a vial containing a molar floating in my own blood. Talk about FROM THE HEART!

2. DINNER
A popular Valentine’s Day tradition, dinner can also be a huge expense. Instead of taking your sig. oth. to a fancy restaurant, I’ve got a tip that’s 10 times as romantic at 1/10th the price! Instead of going out to a crowded restaurant with a bunch of nerds trying to impress their lady, take her on a candlelight picnic in the park! This time of year, the parks are oddly empty. She’ll love the pitch black and dead silence of the park at night. To save even more money, forget the candles and dine by moonlight! You can take whatever food you have in your refrigerator. It becomes twice as easy if you bring left-overs! Make sure to take a tarp instead of a blanket to cover the wet ground. For some extra romance, stare at your girl intensely, not saying a single word. Make sure to breathe very deeply and very slowly. “I don’t know about this,” she might say. Comfort her with your silence; maybe widen your eyes and don’t blink. “What? Why are you staring at me?” she’ll ask. “Trevor, say something.” But you’ll just open your mouth in silent laughter, wide eyes staring romantically into her soul.

3. IMPRESS
You may want to prove to your girlfriend that you know a thing or two about something other than Family Guy and Halo:Reach. Well how about watching one of this year’s most talked about films? This year, the academy seems to have had a love affair with girl movies. Rom-coms such as Blue Valentine would be the perfect movie to watch with your girlf on this holiest of nights. It’s sure to be a movie that’ll have you laughing and falling in love all over again. If rom-coms aren’t your thing, how about Black Swan? It’s got everything girls love: ballet; classical music; make up; love, probably. And if you don’t want to shell out the 26 bucks for a couple movie tickets, why not just illegally download them and watch on your laptop! She’ll be impressed with your culture AND your budget savvyness.

I hope I helped you out on how to save money this evening while still giving your girl the VD of her dreams!

Charizard In Michigan

Ok, this is my first blog post in like 15 months, and it's actually not even mine, I guess? I told my like, really funny friend Neil that i'd host his Charizard fan fiction, so here it is!

And with literally no other further tadew, here's CHARIZARD IN MICHIGAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Charizard in Michigan

by Neil Manich

Charizard hated the cold. Every day in Michigan the sub-zero temperatures froze his blood. He had a legitimate fear that his big tail would go out, and then where would he be? Sometimes he wished he wasn’t the fully evolved pocket monster that his experience had led him to become. He wanted to evolve into a Dragini or some other fireless dragon. But then he remembered better. All of those ice pokemon were really just a step above savages.

Sulfuric gasses churned in his stomach as he released a fiery burp. “What a tremendous belch,” he thought to himself. His digestive tract had always been a point of pride and rightfully so. Even Moltres’ stomach didn’t have the fiery explosion that his packed.

He looked at the other fifteen or so passengers packed into the tiny subway compartment with him. They looked less impressed by his excretions than he. In fact the plebian directly in front of him had the indignity to set on fire and burn in his presence. Flames burnt healthily in his hair and at the tips of his mustache. Charizard chortled heartily at the image. “Just like the Oddish from a few nights back.” Charizard loved to get good and liquored and torch a few pansy plant type monsters on the weekends.

The unhappy fact was the people on the train wouldn’t really approve of anything Charizard would have done. Reasons beyond Charizard’s comprehension had turned the populace against him. Privately, Charizard had always assumed it to be envy. It’s hard to love a devastatingly handsome dragon that sports an impressive twelve-foot wingspan. Not to mention his noble gift of fire.

To be honest, Charizard had very little interest in what the fat sweaty masses thought about him.

Suddenly, Charizard caught a whiff of the most rotten smell ever conceived. A sea turtle. And not just any sea turtle, a dirty, inbred, plant loving, pre frozen sea turtle named Squirtle. Squirtle, or as Charizard preferred to refer to him, Neptune’s Excrement had never really gotten on with Charizard. Not to mention his more evolved older brothers Blastoise and Wartortle. Those beasts took every opportunity to spit bubbles at him or douse his tail with their water guns. Just the thought of that round oaf Blastoise’s hydro pump nearly made Charizard faint.

At the next stop the train doors slid open and the watery devil Squirtle darkened the train’s doorway. “He even dresses like an asshole,” thought Charizard. And indeed, he did. Squirtle didn’t even have the decency to wear a suit like Charizard. He wore a mangy zip hoody stretched over his shell and a pair of pre-torn jeans. And you couldn’t simply blame it on youth either. Why, Charizard’s younger brother Charmander always seemed to dress neatly. Squirtle looked as though he smoked dried bell sprout buds on with Abras.

“Harrumph,” snorted Charizard derisively. “They haven’t locked this menace up yet? That’s what you get when you elect a psychic type pokemon governor. Law and order go right out the window!”

“Fuck you Chary. I can hear you,” spat the watery tart.

“You shelled sea PIG! I WILL ERASE YOUR ASS!” Charizard had the unfortunate weakness of pride. He was the most powerful pokemon in the world (obviously that abomination Mewtwo didn’t count. He was more test tube than nature.) and as such feared no opponent. He always forgot about the unfortunate stylistic match up Squirtle presented.

The insult was too much for the immature Squirtle however, and without another second of thought the unevolved beast flung its ratatta like body at Charizard’s noble form. Bite! The peasant was going for bite! Charizard almost lost his trademark poise out of laughter as he politely allowed the low level beast to latch himself briefly onto Charizard’s belly. It further amused him to feel only a few hit points trickle from his health bar.

“It’s not very effective BITCH!” bellowed Charizard. “Now it’s my turn.” And with a swoosh of his mighty lit tail Charizard spun the young mouse/turtle in a roasty circle. The heat proved too much for Squirtle and he fainted right there on the subway.

“Ha,” thought Charizard. “And now it’s my stop.”

Charizard hefted his mighty if exhausted form towards the train door. Smoke trailed out of his two nostrils like smoke signals as he chuckled to himself. Water pokemon always were a bit of a laugh.

The subway doors slid open revealing Blastoise’s two massive water pumps aimed right at Charizard.

The End

Crossover Special Part II, Bitches

Today I post part two of this v. special Crossover Event. This part is a story collaboration between myself and Mrs. Justin Bieber herself, Kerry "The Bond" Ingram. (Drawing by me, space my K.L.I.) Part 1 was our own stories, written to showcase our individual talents etc. etc. etc. This is Kerru's. This story is what you get when the two of us share a google doc and are left unsupervised by adults.

UNTITLED ALIEN PROSTITUTE TALE: IN WHICH THE GOSLINGS ASK FOR PIZZA

by Bryan Erik-Greenhill & Kerry L. Ingram III

Maleien was sitting in his pimp chair when his ho Ganxaxa sashayed through his door.
"BITCH," he boomed. "Where my money. If you don’t got my money I’m gon cut you!"
She quivered in her pearls. "Naw, naw, Maleien, you got me wrong! You know I'm good for it! I just got so many goslings at home, sometimes it's hard to keep up with everything!"
"I don't CARE if you good for it, I want the money now! You bring me 25,000 floopdedoops by TOMORROW or I'ma salt you and turn you into jerky, naw what I mean?"
"I will, I will! You'll see! I'll turn extra tricks, open a jerky shop, or something!" she cried, running out of the door.
She ran, viscous black fluid leaking out of her eyes, into the elevator up to her apartment where her goslings were waiting.
"BABIES!" she said, her voice shaking through the tears.
"MAMA WHAT’S WRONG" said all the goslings in unison. (Goslings are a hive mind until they reach level 24 drekels.)
"I got bad news for you. Mama's not going to be around much for awhile."
Her goslings sat staring at her.
“PIZZA, CHARLIE!” shouted the goslings in unison, which sort of creeped Ganxaxa out. Who was Charlie?
“PIZZA, CHARLIE!” they shouted again. Ganxaxa glanced around nervously.
But before Ganxaxa could figure it out, everything exploded. Stuff was still there when she opened her eyes but it was slightly different. It was strange--she couldn't quite explain it. Everything felt a little more green and her name was probably Charlie now.
"Am I Charlie?" asked Charlie.
The goslings' thoraxes were expanding and contracting at a nauseating speed.
"PIZZA, CHARLIE" they shouted again.
The goslings' strange dance was speeding up. She vomited up a thick roll of pizza dough. She could hear their exoskeletons crunching with each contraction. Charlie vomited again in fear.
This time it was a thick, red tomato based sauce pouring out of her face.
The goslings began to drone and buzz in unison, shaking her stomach like the great belly of a farnok being tickled by a raguna feather. At once the goslings became a fiery red, similar to lava, or maybe magma, and melded together like when you're heating up chocolate chips and then they melt into a puddle, but this puddle was solid and big as a Korlernt. She vomited one last time for what seemed forever. Mountains and mountains of mozzarella cheese and assorted fixins came rocketing out of her facehole straight into the puddle.
A giant hole opened in the puddle and it ingested everything Ganxaxa had puked up. Or was it Charlie now? She wasn't sure. All she was sure of was that she was scared and shivering and owed her pimp some cash.
So Charlie hotfooted it down to the nearest jerky store and robbed it at gunpoint. She returned the money to Maleien. They were wed the next day and had a very unhappy life together.

Part 1 Of A 2 Part Crossover Special

This post marks my first foray into fiction on this blog. It’s actually a bit of a two-parter. My v. fancy friend Kerry and I both wrote individual stories based on a pretty inceptional drawing that I made that’s probably museum quality, not to toot my own horn. Part two is also based on the picture, but it’s a joint story that we collaborated on. It’s like a remix or a mash up or like when your two favorite musical artists make a song together. Part two will be up tomorrow, I hope you can hold in your excitement until then!!!

...

Having slipped into her favorite red dress, Karen stood at the door to the living quarters in the house she shared with her husband of 25 years. She felt empowered in this dress, attractive, even. She carefully wrapped a string of space pearls around her neck and let her fingers run along their smooth surface as she stood, watching her husband. The pearls had been an anniversary gift many years ago. She had even bought some new shoes for tonight. At fifteen thousand filborts, they were a bit of a splurge, but it wasn’t as if they couldn’t afford them. Besides, she treated herself to little gifts so rarely.

Karen’s husband Mark was an independently wealthy real estate mogul. He had come from a poor family in a bad part of town, but he studied hard and worked harder until he had built himself an empire. His passion was what attracted Karen to him in the first place. In the early years of their marriage, they worked closely with the poor community: repairing damaged space buildings, replacing rusting pipes, building playgrounds for the children, and delivering meals to the elderly.

Twelve years into their marriage, Mark’s real estate company started booming. Mark and Karen were thrilled by the prospect of having more space money to spend helping those who needed it, but as time went on, Mark’s demands at work got too heavy and his time off was spent recovering from work at home. Not that Karen minded. It was nice to finally spend some time together. Maybe now they could start thinking about starting a family. Mark disagreed, however, insisting that there would be time later. Now was the time for buying homes and taking fabulous vacations.

Karen stood in her red dress at the door to the living quarters in the house she shared with Mark. They never had a family. By the time Mark was ready, the space doctor told Karen that she was too old, and there might be complications. She stared at Mark. He was sitting in his usual chair, staring mindlessly at the enormous space television. It had been so long since she had seen the passion in his eyes.

Mark looked at her, furrowing his amphibious brow.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Mark, tonight I am going out for a nice meal and I’d like you to come with me.” She had made up her mind.

“I don’t think so Karen. I’ve had a demanding week.”

Karen’s gaze dropped to the floor for a quarter of a second. If Mark had been looking at her, he would have seen tears in her eyes. She cleared her throat and walked over to her husband that she had loved so deeply for the past 25 years and lightly touched her lips to his cheek.

“Goodbye, Mark,” she said, grabbing her bag and leaving the house she had shared with her husband of 25 years. Which was weird because they had no lips.