Ko-Fi

Sunday, June 30, 2013

If I Had a Mutant Ability

Once the various Marvel and DC superheroes started getting their own movies again, and those movies didn't look like crap made in the 70's, a whole lot of people began wondering what they would do with super powers.

And which way would you go?  If you could choose, what mutant ability would you like to have?  Heal fast?  Mental telepathy?  Flight?

Some men dream of being able to make a woman desire them with just a thought.  Some want super strength and agility.

I think for me, I want the ability to make people crap their pants.  I want to simply think about somebody filling their shorts and make it instantly happen.

Violently, too.

You're probably thinking to yourself how awful and disgusting this would be.  And you're right.

But you're also wrong.  It would be the best non-violent deterrent to crime ever devised.

Nobody wants to fight with a wet, soggy load in their pants.  Nobody.  Even the toughest fighter in the world would want to walk away and go home to take a shower.



Imagine somebody like Kimbo Slice or Brock Lesnar.  Maybe even both of them together.

Kimbo doesn't say much, but Lesnar likes to talk smack.  He would be smiling, too.

"Those are some cute tights you're wearing."

"It's my costume.  I'm a superhero."

"You don't look so super to me."  Kimbo might grunt at this point.  "I'm gonna..."   He would be cut off by a wet, slapping sound.  Perhaps some gas, too. 

"Aww, man!"

I would stand proudly with my hands on my hips, posing victoriously, and say in a loud, deep voice, "You've just been defeated by....The Land Shart!"

That would be my superhero name--The Land Shart.

When posing for pictures and dramatic moments, I would say, "It is I--The Land Shart!  Ruiner of pants, Destroyer of dignity, Cleanser of colons!  Conqueror of Constipation!  Take a deep sniff and despair!"

Criminals and ne'er-do-wells would be cautious when committing their crimes.  A purse-snatcher would be running down the sidewalk when suddenly his face would contort into a strange mix of "what the hell?" and "How do I make this stop?" while one eye twitches weirdly.  And instead of a full-on sprint he would slow down to a quick-step trot while keeping his knees together.  Maybe he would throw down the purse in disgusted frustration and indignation. 

The streets would run with the poo of criminals!

Would-be rapists would have their damsels cornered, saying vile things like, "Baby, you know you want this!"  When suddenly, they would feel a warm and wet mass grow from their backsides.  The Land Shart once again saved a woman from sexual assault because nobody feels like raping with crap running down their legs.

Even the Incredible Hulk would withdraw from a fight.  He would roar and throw cars around only to suddenly stop mid-smash as a confused look spread across his face.  An enormous pile of the foulest green sludge imaginable would slide down his legs. He might look down in confusion for a moment, wondering what he could have possibly ate to make such a nasty mess.

"Uhh..Hulk crap pants...be back in a minute."  This also begs the question as to what color the Hulk's face turns when he is embarrassed. 

Only The Joker might keep fighting, but his henchmen wouldn't come close enough to him to hear his orders.  I would have to be careful because The Joker seems like the kind of villain that might enjoy throwing crap like a wet splatter-grenade.  There is always one in the crowd.

The police would instantly know from the smell of feces that crime was a-foot and evil deeds were thwarted.  A rookie would wrinkle his nose and look at his senior partner.  "What on Earth is that smell, Sarge?"

The veteran with gray hair would take a deep breath and sigh, "Justice, rookie.  That's the smell of justice."




Friday, June 28, 2013

For a Special Woman

To steal a phrase from a movie...this goes out to an unusual girl who makes me feel....unusual. 


I Have a Van

Two tons of throbbing American Steel
Thrust down the highway by a
3-0-2 cubic inch heart of black soul.

I have a van.
Bucket seats covered in a thousand hides of dead Naughas hunted to near extinction.
Each slowly flayed under a full moon.
Just for you, my love. Just for you.

I have a van.
Walls covered in scarlet satin
pillow-soft pockets of sound absorbing down.
A massage table with heated pads.
You've had a long day my love, let me help you relax.

I have a van.
Every known candy in bulging bags
Chocolates and berry delights,
Try the Passion Cremes,
They explode in your mouth, my love.

I have a van.
A plush bed folds down
near the duct tape dispenser on top
of the puppy kennel
All under a mirrored ceiling.
So you can see yourself, my love.

I have a van.
We'll cruise the dark roads,
unsuspecting neighborhoods.
Intensive personal research.
Your sheep's clothing.

I have a van.
And since my trip to the river,
it's empty without you.
Climb inside, shift into glide.
Let's see where the night takes us!
We have room to fill, my love.
We have a van.

Sunday, June 16, 2013

A Call for Submission and a Contest

 


These look promising.  I plan on submitting to both of them. 













The other one I wanted to post is This One.  It has Mort Castle!  I'm a huge fan of this man's work.

From their website:

We know how difficult it can be for new writers to break onto the scene. It seems that most presses are either closed for submissions or are invite only. It can get frustrating, we understand. Sinister Grin Press wants to give the new guys and gals a chance to get their foot in the door. Introducing the Fresh Meat Writing Contest! An elimination competition for fresh talent in horror fiction. We are looking for new novels. The winner will receive a contract for their book, along with an advance and royalties. But we’re not going to make it easy on you.

I love how they've put this one together.  In fact, it has me genuinely excited.