Romance of Mystery

Eddie leered at the immaculately dressed man standing on his front porch. The chump was in an ironed, three piece blue suit, and when he smiled Eddie wanted to knock the planks from his white picket fence grin.
"Howdy, sir. Jack Lamort's the name, selling�s the game." The yuck-head extended a hand as he laughed at his own joke.
"I�m not interested in anything�"
"Hold on there, partner. I haven�t even gotten a chance to show you the merchandise."
The salesman snatched up his briefcase and had it snapped open in the blink of an eye. Pictures and graphs displaying coffins, corpses, and funeral lots on discount came pouring out like a waterfall of morbidity.
"What the hell?"
"Impressive, ain�t it? You seem like an alright guy. So I�m gonna give you the best deal on the market."
When the jerk laughed, Eddie winced at the smell of formaldehyde and graveyard earth.
"What in God�s name are you selling?"
"Why death, my good man! It�s the hottest commodity these days."

"Death?"
"Let me explain. I�m not here by accident. You were on my list, see? But we do things differently nowadays. We let the customers have a little more freedom with their choices of, uh� departure."
"Look, buddy. I ain�t got no time for these jokes. The game�s on, for Pete�s sake."
"I�ll try not to waste any more of your time than I need to, Ed."
"How�d you�"
"Now we have a lovely array of terminations for you to consider here. We have the basic death from heart attack, which is standard for the middle aged man such as yourself. But you seem a little adventurous. How does bear mauling sound to you? No, you�re right. Far too messy. How about perishing while saving a child from a burning building? Gives you the nice heroic look, if you ask me. Pull in some more people at the funeral that way. Or if the goody-two-shoes approach isn�t your thing, we can always arrange to have you murder your wife and then fry in the electric chair at the state penitentiary. From what I hear, the ladies seem to love that bad boy personality. But then again, so do the guys at the state penitentiary. Let�s drop that one for now. We really should discuss your funeral service�"
Eddie was gaping at the peculiar little man on his porch. His meaty fists shook with rage.
"Get out," he hissed.
"How do you fancy yourself in this model coffin?"
"I said�" Eddie reached forward and gripped the man by his coat. His body promptly went stiff and he collapsed through the open door onto his back.
The salesman peered down at the dead man, a frown painting his features. Marking Eddie�s name from the list, he let out a sigh as he headed back to his car. The salesman tossed the briefcase into the trunk of the car next to the scythe and swung into the driver�s seat. As he drove away, he checked the time on his wristwatch.
"Still morning. Boy, am I gonna make a killing!"

Labels: Bloggin Madness, Humor, Original Work, Random, Short Fiction

We take you now to that beloved star of stage and screen Tod Slaughter, as he answers the questions of the public in his weekly column "Dear Toddy" from The Barnstormer Weekly. In today's feature, Tod is besmirched with the problems and anxieties that come with the holiday season and answers all inquires in his trademark style of wit, charm, and unrestrained evil.
* * *
Dear Toddy,
I have a big problem. It's almost Christmas and there's this boy in my classroom who keeps telling me that Santa Claus isn't real. He says he's made up, a big fat lie. I tried asking my mom bout it but she says the boy was just saying that since he's jealous. I don't even know what that means. What should I do about the mean boy? Is there a Santa Claus? Can you help me Mr. Toddy?
-Virginia
Virginia,
Thank you for writing, my dear child. I think I can help with your problem. First of all, you must handle that mischievous boy in your classroom post haste. It sounds like his tongue wags too much... might I suggest cutting it out with a razor? No? Fine, then. I always found that breaking the spine is quite effective. It's quick, efficient, and painless. Well, it would be for you anyway. Heh heh. Now allow me to address the second part of your question: no, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus! Santa is a lie, just like everything else your mother has ever told you. Including how pretty you are. If you want a complete stranger to break into your house in the middle of the night, then just call me up!
Merry Christmas,
Toddy
* * *
Dear Toddy,
First I'd like to say that I love your work (big fan!). I knew you were the only man that could help me. I was recently made the head of the party planning committee at the office where I work. Trouble is, I have no idea what to put on the e-mail invitations. I want to just call it "Office Christmas Party," but HR's giving me a lot of crap because Ben in accounting celebrates Hanukkah and the guy in the mailroom made up his own holiday called Sleeping Monk Day. And how am I supposed to decorate? What's your take on all this, sir?
-Cubicle Drone
Cubicle Drone,
I appreciate you being a fan of my work. So am I! As to your inquiry, good taste be damned! If you want to really have a party, put a nice dash of arsenic in the punch bowl to lighten those stiffs up! Make sure that you invite a high member of society to the festival too. That way you could massacre them in front of everybody and laugh over their lifeless body as you rob them of their personal belongings. And if you're feeling extra naughty, carry your boss's wife away kicking and screaming for a little "kiss" underneath the mistletoe. This way, you won't be offending those few people at work. Stick to this plan and EVERYONE will feel violated!
Happy planning,
Toddy
* * *
Dear Toddy,
I live in Indiana and at the moment we're being raped by a monstrous snowstorm. There are piles of snow six feet high closing us in on all sides and the wind is enough to blow the Statue of Liberty's gown right off! I can't stand this freezing slush and thought I'd turn to you for some suggestions to help my winter blues. Thanks!
-Frosty Hater
Frosty Hater,
Don't curse your predicament so hastily, my friend! The snow does have its advantages, especially when it's very... deep. There's much useful spade work to be had there. You could bury at least three bodies in a healthy-sized drift if you wished (and who wouldn't?). And all the wonderful blues, and blacks, and purples that the corpses' skin turns never fails to get me into the holiday spirit! If it's the bitter cold that's got you down, might I suggest a stop at Mrs. Lovatt's pie shop on the corner of Fleet Street? Nothing should cheer you more than a helping of one of her delicious meat pies while you sit next to her roaring furnace. Her baked goodies come out flesh from the oven. Mwahahaha!
Stay warm,
Toddy
* * *
That's all the time we have for today. Until Toddy's return after the New Year, The Barnstormer Weekly would like to wish their readers the most wicked of holidays. May your hearts be filled with blood and thunder, and your homes with murder and mayhem. Thank you and good night.

Labels: Humor, Random, Tod Slaughter, Tod Slaughter Blogathon

Today's depraved offering is a video for guys who like their muscles sweaty and their hair long and flowing. This video may also interest the following parties:
Compulsive shirt rippers
Sharp knife fetishists
Chicks looking for a way to kick ass with a cast
Fans of awesome one-liners
Scientists who think it's impossible for somebody not to flinch when hit in the face
Improbable eye trauma enthusiasts
Ninjas
Cats
Your Grandma Mildred
People who have nothing better to do

Labels: Awesome, Cheesy, Humor, Video Vault

For those of you who haven't already done so, perhaps you should mosey on over to Classic-Horror to read some of the write-ups I've done for them. I have a weekly feature (soon to be monthly starting in October) called Cold Reads where I read, examine, and review horror in literature. This week's post was for Clive Barker's novella "The Hellbound Heart," the inspiration for his famous Hellraiser series. I have film reviews that pop up there every so often as well, so be sure to give those a peek when they come around.
Is all this simply just a cheap, vulgar ploy to distract all my readers while I sit at home, too lazy to write anything original for this blog? Of course it is! Would you expect anything less degenerate?
But in order to keep you from grabbing the torches and pitchforks too soon, I'll strain my mental resources and try to put some effort into this post.
Nick Hishmeh, that cool cat who's submitted some reviews for this blog, has recently embarked on a noble adventure into the land of comedy. He and his group of fellow writers/actors have a formed an allegiance called WeAreCMen. They have an ongoing series called "Charlie and His Imaginary Friend." And no, it has nothing to do with Charlie the Unicorn! I promise, Scout's honor. The prologue and first episode have been posted here for your bemusement. Enjoy!

The credits for the first episode are:
Director/Writer- Nick Hishmeh
Actor/Editor- Christopher Conkling
Actor/DP- Charlie Islas III
Audio- Christian Kady

This is a stand alone video they created concerning life in Orlando. It doesn't get any cooler than this!

WeAreCMen consists of the following lunatics:
Christopher Conkling
Charlie Islas III
Nick Hishmeh
Marcus Griggs
This group has a lot of potential and, as they are all huge film buffs, they get 100% of my support. Be sure to keep your eyes open for any future installments here or on Youtube.
And thus ends this totally entertaining diversion. Let's drink!

Labels: Bloggin Madness, Classic-Horror, Cold Reads, Humor, Wearecmen

You all know him as that math-obsessed puppet who frequented the dark corners of Sesame Street. But the lovable Count was not a bloodthirsty vampire who quenched his unholy hunger on the life fluid of small children. No! This bat-crazy dude loved to fill up his hours by doing nothing more than counting endless upon endless amounts of objects and numbers. It was his favorite thing to do. But sometimes good intentions can be lost in translation, as seen in today's video. It makes you wonder: just what did the Count mean when he talked about "counting"?

Guy who made this video= GENIUS

Labels: Humor, Sesame Street, Video Vault

Runtime: 95 minutes
Country: USA
Cast and Crew
Directed by Aaron Norris
Written by Brent Friedman and Donald G. Thompson
Starring Chuck Norris, Calvin Levels, Sheree J. Wilson, and Christopher Neame
Top o' the afternoon to ye, me howling hellcats!
Yes it's that time of the month again. I have dug back far into the recesses of my creative mind in order to write a profound and engaging review that is sure to stimulate the greatest of minds. Unfortunately I never got around to doing that, so instead I took a bunch of pictures from a Chuck Norris movie and made a shoddy comic book out of it. That's right! That means it must be another one of my...
BAD ISSUE(S)!
But the selection of today's musing is by no means an accident. For those of you who have sold your souls to your computers, you might have noticed the wonderful contest Matt from Chuck Norris Ate My Baby has put on for all of us bloggers. As a part of his "Chuck Norris Ate My Blog" contest, I decided to scrap together this project as an entry. I hope that those who take the time to read this will enjoy it enough and also be sure to cruise around the blogosphere to check out entries by other fantastic writers. So grab on to your crucifixes, kiddies! With today's Bad Issue, there's only one direction that we can be headed...
HELLBOUND!
First of all, check that out right there. That's the menu. Your only option is to play the movie. Why? Cuz Chuck Norris said so. Wanna skip to your favorite scene? Too bad, jerk. You have to watch the whole damn film. Wanna see if there are any foreign subtitles? Nope, none of those either. Cuz this is AMERICA and Chuck Norris speaks American. This is going to be fun...

Once upon a time in a galaxy... Oh my bad. Uhh, there's an evil dude from Hell who wants to bring about the End of Days. Much happier story...

Behold! The title of our film and the fate of its box office all in one!

The time is 1186 A.D., the place is the coast of California right behind the local Starbucks...

A group of knights rush towards their ultimate purpose...

Speculation grows as they near their destination...

King Arthur starts getting sassy...

Inside an unholy ceremony is unfolding...

Devil Dude is surprised by his uninvited guests...

The knights wage battle against the legion of Joan Rivers-spawned demons...

DD begins speaking in incoherent tongues...

The priest gives a sneak attack from the rear...

Arthur breaks DD's microphone into pieces and creates a noble plan for them...

In 1951, two thieves bust into the hidden concert hall. One starts doubting their mission...

The resurrection of DD doesn't daunt them...

He's back and quicker than ever...

The setting is now present day Chicago. Detective Jackson intervenes during his partner Shatter's interrogation...

Jackson attempts a softer approach...

They celebrate...

Meanwhile, a mistress of the night gets herself comfy after a session of demonic lovemaking...

DUN DUN DUN! That's right. DD is back and his love for music hasn't deterred one bit...

Jackson asks Shatter the immortal question...

Upset at his beardless existence, Jackson provokes a celebrity-hating pimp...

Jackson doesn't take too kindly to his words...

The pimp's cronie is just about to grab a hankie when Shatter lends him a hand...

Shatter initiates a challenge to the head cold-besieged cronie...

The cronie fails and Shatter punches him in his sick face while barking an awesome one-liner...

Back at the motel, Joseph Gordon Levitt is doing deals with the Devil...

He splits before his ally exhibits some cutthroat business methods...

Colonel Kurtz is flabbergasted...

But there are other things nagging his mind at the moment...

You just can't keep a good Devil worshiper down...

When the hooker sees that her night now involves a menage a trois, the Colonel promptly pays her and then throws her out the window. Shatter is distressed...

Shatter spots an old enemy from his past...

The Colonel attacks only to be shot through the heart...

The next day at the station, Jackson is terrified to see the prophecy coming true...

Shatter is more concerned with his profile...

He prepares to eat his lunch to get his mind off things...

Shatter and Jackson head to a museum to do casting calls for the damsel in distress...

Shatter is disappointed in his partner...

Things start coming together...

Meanwhile in Italy...

The Colonel is there to make things better...

Back in Chicago Jackson digs deeper into the case...

One inevitable omen of the Armageddon is dodged...

Or is it...?

Later as Shatter and Jackson are driven through the studio's backlot, a terrible accident occurs...

From that day forward, the phrase "objects in rearview mirror" would always strike a chord of terror in one assless man...

The taxi driver expresses his love for American cinema...

A mysterious man watches on from the shadows...

The city's police inspector has some damning questions for the detectives to answer...

Five hours later...

Mysterious Man waits on...

Shatter calls Levitt out on his acting choices...

The two detectives use terrifying threats...

Levitt attempts to defend himself...

The detectives get lost outside of their trailers...

Master con artist Bezi beseeches the two to save him from an inconceivable destiny...

Jackson takes the time to appreciate himself...

The smile you never want to see on Chuck Norris's face when he sees you...

Shatter corners his prey...

Shatter knows how to solve the issue...

The Mysterious Man awaits his time with divine patience...

Jackson gets accustomed to his supporting role...

The detectives become reacquainted with the actress they hired for the damsel role...

The Mysterious Man offers up a prayer...

At the catering table, the group recognizes a familiar face...

Yes! It turns out the Colonel is actually a Major! Shocking, isn't it?

When Shatter returns to his hotel room, he is met by some big fans...

Shatter delivers some pain...

Back in Chicago, the Police Chief calls in on her cats to see how they're doing...

The fans are determined to get their autograph...

Before Jackson can get in on the fun, Levitt smacks him upside the head and steals the gold sandwich...

The Major is quick on his heels...

Fear brings out a confession...

Shatter mourns the loss of Levitt...

Jackson makes an exciting find...

Swiper no swiping!

Bezi expresses his admiration...

But the Norris is on to him...

SWIPER NO SWIPING, DAMMIT!

Shatter reassures the group...

Shatter is astounded at meeting the wise monk...

Though the holy man is blind, Shatter handles the situation with the utmost sensitivity...

They pass the time by taking pictures...

The monk later consoles himself in the privacy of his room...

Things get interesting...

The detectives make it back in time to see what remains of the priest...

Some investigation only angers Shatter further...

A friend brings out Shatter's soft side...

He makes an important call...

Damsel is shocked by the Major's arrival...

Shocking discoveries are made...

Later at the Black Sabbath concert...

The Major puts the lotion on the skin...

The detectives survey the situation...

Shatter kicks some long-deserved monster booty...

The Major unleashes his deadly fury...

Jackson tries to help but soon loses his grounding...

The damsel cheers her gallant knight on...

The battle cry of the Norris rings out mightily...

The Major weeps...

A terrible twister rocks the cave...

Unfortunately, Nicole Richie was one of the many souls lost in the chaos...

The Major gives a final shout out to his audience...

The show caps off with fireworks for the kids...

The Mysterious Man finally realizes his purpose and dutifully collects the pieces of the gold sandwich to sell at Universal Theme Parks everywhere...

Good news all around...

Jackson gives one last piece of advice to Bezi...

Some things never change...

Ohhh, that's our Bezi! Our tale now comes to a happy, screaming halt. Bezi goes on to become an international criminal, Shatter and Jackson learn the joys of parenthood, that one blond actress with the face gets a job as that one blond waitress with the face, and Satan decides to go into the entertainment business and plan the next Justin Bieber concert. Yippee!

Once again, thanks for everyone who decided to waste their day and read my insane ramblings. Keep your eyes out for all the other great entries that have and are to come out for this Norris-tastic contest! Hiiiyah!

Labels: 1990S, Awesome, Bad Issue, Cheesy, Chuck Norris, Devil, Humor, The Crypt