Category Archives: 10/2011

The Final Conflict

The Final Conflict

Written by Ye Olde Scribe

Zombie picture courtesy veteranstoday.com

Apologies to Gene Roddenberry for stealing his title-YOS

2020 the zombies dug their way out of their graves and everyone ran for cover. They bolted their doors. They trained their dogs to eat dead flesh, not all that hard to imagine if you have noticed that when it comes to dead, edible, things, dogs are vacuum cleaners.

People were so scared septic tank suckers made a fortune.

We, the sane, had nothing to worry about, for they were met by the intellectually and morally dead who blame everything wrong on Liberals.

That’s right: they decimated each other.

Where have all the Republicans gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the Republicans gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the Republicans gone?
Eaten by zombies everyone
When will they ever learn?
We knew they’d NEVER learn

And the zombies? They all died too. As we know zombies eat brains. And no one lives long on a starvation diet.
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©Copyright 2011
Ye Old Scribe
all rights reserved

Courtesy neighborhoods.redeyechicago.com

Well, That Bites

Well, That Bites

Written by Ye Olde Scribe

“It was wonderful, at first. They were but cattle. We sipped, ate and gorged ourselves.”

The thinning vampire: gaunt, sunken eye sockets, looked hungry. He WAS hungry. He looked fondly up a passing vampire-ess. It wasn’t sexual.I wasn’t lust/ It was a thirst deeper than deep.

But then the blood suck virus struck. AIDs for vampires, only it killed off their food source: humans.

“I refuse to go all cannibal. I’ve fed on squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks, birds. They all die. Yesterday I watched a Bugs Bunny toon and I got hungry.”

“Soon all there will be is vampires. I would say, ‘that sucks, but it kind of doesn’t.”
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©Copyright 2011
Ye Olde Scribe
all rights reserved

Melt

Melt

Written by Lilith Raymour

Marshmallow man
Passion
Flash pan
Melts
In the embers
Of love
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©Copyright 2011
Lilith Raymour
all rights reserved

The Last 60 Minutes Report in 60 Seconds or Less

The Last 60 Minutes Report in 60 Seconds or Less

A Halloween horror story.

Written by Ken Carman

“Morely Safer reporting for 60 Minutes.”
“Tonight a special report on what everyone who is left alive is talking about. We visit the enemies who have no name. No one knows what to call them, though attempts have been made.”

“Where they came from we may never know. We thought we were safe. We thought we were the superior species, if not in the universe, at least on our own planet.”

“Even when the creatures first started to appear, we thought since these creatures could not see they had to be inferior; they could be easily beaten. It could be called a herd mentality. But now we’re just waiting for that final cattle call.”

“For years the bats were dying. Going extinct. Now we wonder if they were just making way for a new bat, maybe coming to the surface from the depths of what we used to call ‘our’ planet. Now it’s ‘their’ planet.'”

“But they’re not just bats. Scientists speculate maybe some mutation that combining bat DNA with spider DNA with… only God knows what.”

“God?”

“Even theologians are baffled. Only a mad God could have created these monsters.”

“Their eyes: useless. They use some kind of sonar like method to spot victims and snatch them. In that sense they may see far better than we do. If we could isolate the frequency maybe we’d have a weapon, but even attempts have only served to provide more than a few meals.”

“They eat Christians, Atheists, Deists, Agnostics, Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims: an equal opportunity huge bat buffet.”

“At first we only knew something was wrong because spelunkers started disappearing. Those who went into the caves disappeared. Several search and rescue groups disappeared. Army platoons next. So people stayed out of the caves, but these monsters didn’t. At night they fly through our cities, our towns, the country. We rarely see them until it’s too late. The prostitutes, the homeless and the drunks disappeared at first. Few noticed.”

“But then they started breaking into the homes and, yes, they also have arms and hands as useful as ours. YouTubes exist of those who took those YouTubes just before they too were taken: warning the public not to confront them. We only know what little we do know through hidden cameras and microphones.”

“They speak a language no linguist seems to be able to crack. They obviously either don’t care, or don’t realize, we’re smart too.”

“A few have escaped and they tell horror stories of underground cities built out of spider web like threads. Their technology is totally unfathomable to us; mostly bio in nature. But it seems so advanced.”

“As we enter the main chamber of the cave now we can see hanging from a crowded cave ceiling their food: us. They eat by starting with the fingers, the toes, then seal up the wounds with spider web-like bandages, and then wrap us the rest of us up in cocoons, except a hole to breathe though. They like their meals live and raw. By the time they reach the torso they have a buffet, while those satisfied by previous meals have dessert. Apparently the cracking of the nut like skull serves them their candy-like dessert: the brain.”

“This chamber is a human slaughterhouse. Now we know how our cows, chickens and pigs must have felt on mega farms.”

“This is Morley Safer, not feeling all that ‘safer’ in…”
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©Copyright 2011
Ken Carman
all rights reserved

The Fight

The Fight

Peterson boxing picture courtesy mybaycity.com

Written by Lilith Raymour

The boy walked into the high class restaurant. Maybe they didn’t see him because they were to busy. Just as likely they didn’t see him because he was a little boy in a busy, high class, restaurant who probably was just going back to his parent’s table. He walked past the the cash register and the maitre d’. The waiters and waitresses rushed around him. He walked up to the table where Kansas City Keith was celebrating his latest win; yet another opponent who died during the fight. He was laughing and joking with the staff about his “deadly right hook.”

“Why look, Kansas City, you have a young fan who wants to play box with you.”

One hand held up as if to box, formed into a fist. But no one had noticed what the boy was carrying in his other hand.

Keith laugh and formed his hands into fists, getting ready to pretend box with the boy. But before Keith could completely turn around, the boy lifted the sledge hammer and said, “You killed my father.”

That was Kansas City Keith’s last fight.
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©Copyright 2011
Lilith Raymour
all rights reserved