Thursday, 28 July 2016

Wire On A Bird

When she walked into the Boss’ crib, she was all smiles,

“So… How’d the hit go down? Smooth?”

He snapped his fingers, and two of his thugs grabbed her, holding her tight.

“Get off-“

The Boss walked up and slapped her across the face.

“Someone squealed, and you seemed so fucking eager to send my boys on this.”

The Boss nodded towards the window, and the thugs dragged her over and proceeded to dangle her out of it.

“Got anything to say, bitch?”

“Are you aware this bird’s nest out here has a transmitter in it?” she asked, surprisingly calmly.

Other Work: Wrestling Plot Hole Repair Job Beta

(So, added bonus today. This is a draft version of a wrestling column idea I tossed around a while back, the idea being that it would go on a different site to 411mania where I do Ask 411 Wrestling each week. Don't get me wrong, I love writing that column and for 411mania, but at the time I wanted to expands a bit. I sent this around to a couple places but it never really caught anyone's attention, so here it is, maybe you will like it...)

Wednesday, 27 July 2016

Hate Breaker

When I first met Orance, I hated her instantly, and vice versa. In the time we spent both training under Master Fuw, the hatred only grew, everything about her rubbed me raw.

The day our training was completed, Master Fuw said he knew how we could finally get over our dislike of each other. He insisted we both get naked in front of the other.

We glanced at each other and told him off, the first time we ever agreed upon something, which began our road to friendship.

Later on Master Fuw said that was his plan, but rather unconvincingly…

Tuesday, 26 July 2016

Honor Just To Be Nominated

As the award was announced, he glanced around him.

Next to him, his wife, who absolutely detested him but loved his money, and being able to say she was married to a famed Hollywood director.

His main star, who was so desperate for a comeback gig he worked for less than scale, although he somehow still had drugs all the time.

And all the sycophants, wannabes, and studio weasels he had to put up with to make the film.

All the selling out, all the crap he made, just to get HIS movie made.

And it didn’t even get nominated.

Monday, 25 July 2016

Reverse Baptism

I've been called a lot of names in my life. Simon, Son, Buddy, Sweetheart, Daddy, Hey You, Sir.

At every point, the name fit me, or at least was fitting enough for me at that point. I assumed that I'd eventually settle into one of them, that one would feel right.

None of them ever did.

So now I'm here, end of the line, with the Pearly Gates before me. Before you let me in, tell me. Tell me the name I should have been called. You have to know, you're the all powerful, aren't you?


Patricia? Thought so...

Sunday, 24 July 2016


‘I never intended for it to get this far.’

While it was almost never those exact words, that was the general meaning of a surprising number of last second pleas for mercy from captured supervillains. They never intended to command an army of robot slaves, or to blacken the sky, or whatever nefarious scheme I stopped them from carrying out.

Seems that many bright young people just couldn’t handle being dumped, or were desperate for parental approval, or whatever lame excuse they had to justify their evil. I always knew they were lying.

Until I took it too far myself…

Saturday, 23 July 2016

Can't Complain

About ten years ago, she approached me just as my opponent had conceded defeat. She asked me, tape recorder rolling, how I felt. My smile, for the first time during the campaign, was genuine.

“Can’t complain.”

About five years ago, she approached me just as I had left the stage, having finished reading my prepared statement about the war. She asked me, shiny political badge on her lapel, how I thought about condemning millions of young people to die.

“Can’t complain.”

This morning, she approached my cell, smiling.

I would have complained, but the mob had torn my tongue out.