Friday, November 26, 2010

Rise of the Return of the Writing Strikes Back

Oh wow, you're still here?

I do sincerely apologize for the complete lack of sustenance this blog has provided the last few months. As of right now, my leg is better, and I am ready to rock.

I had an incident with a laptop, and let's just say that now I write you from an undead abomination that ate all my previous files and folders.

I lost all of my revisions on HvZ, and the necessary starting over on the process definitely hindered my interest in the whole thing, but I am back on it, and I have every intention of spending most of my waking moments (however post holiday weekend) getting it done.

I have not decided whether or not to continue posting the draft process here, because as I revise prior parts of the story things are changing and I fear the continuity will just not make sense.

But I am back, I have two books nearly complete and am very excited for #3, thus fulfilling my current contract and moving on with my career as a writer.

I appreciate everyone's patience, and apologize for leaving everyone hanging thus far. Thanks for your continued support, I look forward to making it all worth your time.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010


"We can't just keep stopping like this, we aren't getting anywhere." Lucas was referring to the actuality that every couple of minutes Captain had to slow up to remove a pebble or twig or something foreign and pokey from his sandals. "This is why normal people wear normal shoes."

They had been on the trail for a while now, and Captain was getting good at ignoring the constant complaining and insulting that Lucas spewed.

Curry came around once, looking at them, perhaps processing the scene. Captain calmed her and ran his fingers through her hair, separating strands fused together with dried blood. When she was aware that they were carting her out of the park to find help, she positioned herself leaning on the other side of the chair and was asleep again before she offered any insight into what had happened.

It was definitely not easy pushing that wheelchair over rocks and fallen trees across the path, but with much disdain Lucas also took a turn pushing every so often and albeit slowly, they were making progress.


Jesse issued a firearm to Robin and Pegs, while Hubble refused. He gathered things from around the campsite he claimed would do fine in defending them from the walking dead. A rain stick, a baton looking rod with something inside it to make a precipitation sound, seemed to be his major weapon of choice.

Jesse was done arguing with these hippies. This Hubble character clearly refused to take the situation seriously, and Jesse was disappointed that he would have to see him suffer for it later, but they had stood around "planning" long enough.

The current plan of action was to run through the festival and warn as many as they could about the approaching mob of hungry undead. Jesse could only imagine the reactions of all of these people, and he hoped that with his current company they would at least buy the story enough to participate in the scenario. None of this mattered when they actually got it together and left the campsite.

Everyone was out of it. Perhaps not quite undead, yet, but they were all mindless for sure. Jesse chuckled to himself imagining the scale of mindlessness a hippie might traverse before getting to this point.

The sun was up high now, and it beamed an unforgettable heat, possibly hotter than this area had ever seen. Every single person attending the festival that they could see stood around the main stage. There was something going on in the middle of all these heads, but the crowed stacked so far, none of them could make out what.

"What's wrong with them?" Robin asked, to herself but out-loud.

The music had finally stopped, if you could even call it that to begin with. With a squint Hubble could see the stage. He could see what looked like guitars left laying across the stage. A keyboard was tipped over. The stage was empty of people except a backup singer with a microphone nearly in her mouth, and a drummer still seated at his set. The singer moaned into the mic occasionally, with absolutely no melody. Every couple of minutes or so, you could hear the drummer kick once on the bass drum.

Jesse offered up their next actions. "They are all focused on something in the middle of this crowd. We should push in there and make our announcement, maybe some of them will listen." He shook his head, "but I think it might be too late for most of these kids."

Hubble wasn't buying it. "Too late? It doesn't look like any of them have been bitten. There wasn't any screaming that I heard, no signs of any sort of attack. What the fuck are you talking about?" He tapped a guy on the shoulder, who didn't turn around.

"Hey. Dude, what's everyone lookin at?"

The man still did not turn. Hubble raised his voice, "I'm talking to you!" and put his hand on a shoulder and spun the guy around. There was no expression on the face and it looked beyond Hubble and the others for a moment, before simply turning its attention back with the rest of the audience.

"This aint like the zombies you know. There seems to be some kind of transition from alive to undead that happens, somehow, even if they weren't bit. We watched it take Tony, slowly but surely. "

Robin shivered uncontrollably. She was fucking scared, and felt cold, even under the blazing sun.

Pegs considered what he knew. He thought about everything that he had been told and added up everything he was seeing, and all he could think in conclusion was that he was unable to run, and that seemed a likely necessity at some point. He stopped.

The others began pushing their way through the crowd, and when they saw what everyone was staring at, Hubble threw up, Robin turned away crying, and Jesse did all he could to not open fire on the crowd.


Captain was in front and a few yards ahead. Lucas had been pushing Curry for a while, he figured they would move faster since that goddamn hippie refused to wear real shoes. He expected the Captain to step wrong at any minute, and when he did; when that ankle was snapped and the dude was trippin' out, screaming, and unable to observe the world around him with any understanding; Lucas would leave him there. The bait might actually buy him some time to save his own life, and perhaps this girl, too.

Lucas could smell the smoke from the joint up ahead. He wondered if Captain would ever pass it, and suddenly, the Captain stopped.

Captain held a 24 ounce beer can tight, sipping from it frequently. It wasn’t the first. His backpack was so full with empties that he had to dig for the rare chance of a piss-warm beer. Each time he searched, like magic he found one to drink, somewhere in the depths of his seemingly bottomless backpack.

As he gracelessly stumbled down the path, soaking the front of himself with spill, he stopped. Through the foliage ahead, someone was walking the trail towards them. He crouched to get a better look, and whoever it was must have spotted him as well, because they darted off the trail into the woods.

When Lucas caught up Curry moaned at the halt and shifted her body a bit. Lucas demanded the joint.

Captain didn’t respond for a minute. He was trying to listen, and he knew better than to try to tell this asshole to be quiet, so he
just strained his ears harder, his drug-heightened senses granting him, at least, the ability to think he could hear anything. In reality he heard nothing, so he spoke (in a whisper not even the trees could hear):

“Shhh...someone is up ahead.”

Lucas didn’t hear this. He heard a whisper, figured the hippie spotted a fucking chipmunk or some bird and wanted to let it do its thing.

“Just give me that fucking joint man. I’m back here pusing this fucking wheelchair so you don’t hurt yourself and your up in the front, hoggin’ up all this weed. Aren’t you fags all into sharin’ and shit? Be kind to your brotha’, and all that. You got any more of those beers?

Captain shook his head throughout Lucas’ rant, and put his face in one hand, sighing. He stood, and answered his question first.

“Probably not.”

He didn’t check.

“Listen to me for a second. There’s a person, up ahead on the trail.”

He had Lucas’ attention now.

“When I saw him, he left the trail. I was trying to listen for him, in case he flanks us.”

The gun was out now. Lucas didn’t kick the wheelchair, but he pushed it aside behind the cover of a larger rock with his foot. Curry spilled out of the wheelchair face-first, and slumped onto the ground without much acknowledgement. He was down into a fire position without saying another word, scanning the trees.

There wasn’t anything. For ten minutes they waited. Lucas finally stood and explained that they were not being hunted.

“They’re hiding. Afraid of us, if anything. By now, they would have come at us if they wanted an attack. It might just be a hiker, in for the worst trek of his life.”

“We have to warn them then.”

“Right, let’s just leave the girl and wander off into the woods, zombies or not. Fuck it, we got guns, let’s just run out there and shoot each-other.”

And then, Captain, drunk and fed up, did something he never did before: he spoke his mind.

“You probably killed her just now anyway. Look at her, there’s nothing we can do for her. What if we get all the way there and she just becomes one of them. Then what? Then she gets loose in the hospital. Sets off sprinklers and shit. Don’t zombies multiply in water? Then we’re all fucked. Fucked, and all because we thought it would be a great idea to risk our own ass and carry some half-dead bitch to some hospital. This is all your fault! You brought that fucking kid here, he probably infected everyone...”

Lucas slapped Captain, knocking him over with a full force swing. It was more like an open handed punch than a slap, and felt like a roundhouse kick to the temple as Captain’s beer flew into the trees.

“Relax! You’re talking like a fucking lunatic. We, as in You and I, should you remain calm and actually be able to aim a gun, are going to be fine.”

Captain sat up, pulled another marijuana cigarette from somewhere in his dreadlocks, and took a deep breath before lighting it.

“I just don’t know what to do, man,” he said as he exhaled the first hit, a giant puff of smoke filling the area between he and Lucas.

“The first thing you do, Cap’, is give me that motherfucking joint.”


It was Tiny. Tiny, or a blob of flesh that someone had set Tiny's hat atop. The flesh around it seemed to boil in the sun. Flies swarmed around the pile and over the rivers of bodily fluid that ran in all directions at the base of the mess. Where the face should be, there seemed to only be a mouth. If there were any eyes, they were below the bill of the hat, unseen.

Though most of the people around were just staring, some were actively walking up to this mound of skin, and serving it something. Meat. As Jesse looked closer, he saw the gaping black mouth being fed limbs, arms and legs and fingers and eyes. Hair lined the outside of the mouth. Strands of it were stuck all around the opening, glued with blood and drool. It belched frequently and occasionally errupted vomit. One after another, in a small formed line, assorted people took turns bringing more and more flesh to feast on, like offerings to a bizarre king. The massive lump heaved with digestion, and it excreted as fast as it ate.

Robin knew immediately that it was, in fact, Tiny. The hat tipped her off, but also, the activity going on was not much different from a normal festival scene. Tiny had always plopped his enormous ass in the middle of a crowd and kept everybody drinking and smoking and swallowing pills all through the night. Here he was as usual, though something was very different. He was no longer human, and as she looked around at the faces, she realised that none of these people were.

The smell was nauseating. Hubble puked again. Jesse had taken aim at the mass. It was enormous, three times as big as Tiny had been previously, and that was an impressive bulk.

Pegs panicked. He knew it was time. Time for them to turn tail and haul ass. Run. Something he was incapable of. His only hope was that he would be able to shuffle faster than any of these zombies, should they take chase. Then he realised the spillage from Tiny was pouring under their feet, just before his prosthetic gave out, and he fell into it, bathing himself in the foulest combination of bodily export.

Robin screamed with him and reached down to help him up. As they got him upright, the legs wobbled beneath him and slipped out in front of him, bringing him right back down. They repeated this once or twice more, with Hubble jumping in to help. Again and again, screaming and crying they tried to get him on his feet, until a leg came off, throwing Robin backwards into the middle of the circle, soaking herself as well.

Jesse fired into Tiny.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

a farewell to ankles

after 2 weeks of holiday/on-location research, i returned to complete my first novel, Hippies vs Zombies.

however, my first day back, i rolled my ankle and heard a snap.

the first thought my brain processed was, "fuck, i hope that was a floorboard."

not so. as i hit the ground and yelled my loudest "fuck", i realized i had broken my first bone in all my years.

at the moment i am laid up, unable to reach my computer, and will be unable to post, still.

i am writing this from my ipod touch and it is taking forever.

but worry not, i have plenty of drugs and the pain is minimal, and will be fetching supplies to work on other projects the old fashioned way. pen.

i expect that in a week or two i will be up and running at least enough to sit at my desk.

until then, utilize the patience i ask of you frequently, and i will greatly reward you... someday.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Yeah, we celebrate Christmas in Hell too.

I am very happy to announce that I will be contributing to a benefit anthology for some foster kids around Christmas.

I have written a special poem called "The Worst Noel" in the theme of magical Christmas zombies, and you-know-who will be submitting some artwork to go with it.

Details on submitting for this anthology are here. If you happen to be a writer, please join us. Otherwise, look forward to something that should be absolutely wonderful to enjoy, and totally for a good cause.

You can purchase some stickers on that site as well, which will not only look cool no matter where you stick them, but also help get the book made.

I will keep you all updated as to when this book becomes available.

Monday, July 5, 2010


Jesse explained as much as he could with help from Mark and Lucas. Hubble was still skeptical of the whole thing, but something had happened with Curry and until she came around, their word was all he had to go by.

"I just don't understand how something like this happens." Hubble paced back and forth, refusing marijuana as the rest of them smoked. "When we saw you on the road I could tell that kid was fucked up. Why bring him?"

"That kid was always fucked up. It didn't look like much more than a severe hangover to us," Jesse explained.

"Until he stopped breathing in the car," Mark reminded. "I knew something was up with him then."

Lucas chimed in, "The fuck you did, you never said shit, just laughed with the rest of us. It was you that went on and on about how funny the shit was."

Mark shrugged. "Well I knew when he grabbed the rabbit."

"No shit, Mark, but it was too late then, wasn't it? And what the fuck did you do, anyway? You left Scott back there to die. He might be here with us if you weren't such a pussy."

"Fuck you Luke. If Scott was any bit as smart as me he would have come with. But no, he had to wait behind for his buddy Lucas to come back so they could sneak into the woods and suck each other off."

Lucas and Mark stood with their faces just inches apart, screaming over one another. Jesse had enough and pushed his way between them.

"None of us will make it out of here alive if you two don't cut the shit."

Captain stood and looked at his friends, then over to the three he didn't know from anyone.
"Zombies or not, I'm not kickin' it with you fucks. I'd rather die than have to listen to these two clowns bitch at each other anymore."

Robin was sobbing, between the constant bickering and Curry's current state, she couldn't muster more than tears. She wasn't sure what to believe, but her friend was terrified and possibly injured or worse.

Captain walked around the group to where they had tackled Lucas and picked up the rifle.

"Seriously, I'm out of here. I'll get Curry back to the gatehouse and have the ranger take us to the hospital. Hubble?"

Hubble knew he should help him carry her if nothing else, and really wanted nothing to do with the three asshole metalheads. On the other hand, he wasn't comfortable leaving Robin with them, and he wasn't sure how serious the spark between her and this Mark kid was. He did not answer Captain.

"Robin?" Captain got no response from her either. He was getting angry a bit and pulled the cork from the moonshine, taking a large swill. His face looked smashed together as it hit his throat, and he coughed a small flame after swallowing. Then he turned to Pegs.

"C'mon man, put your legs on and lets get Curry in the wheelchair."

Pegs stared at Captain a moment before looking around at the others. Then he said, "Honestly Cap, if there are fucking zombies around here, I kinda wanna fuck em up." Then he looked at Jesse. "That is your plan, right? To fuck em up?"

Lucas answered this one. "Dude, we're gonna blow the heads off all ten or fifteen of them, then go down in the books as the heroes of the Grassy Folk Massacre."

"Well," Captain said angered, "give me the fucking chair anyway. If you're going to be fighting 'zombies' or even just these three pricks, you'd be better off on feet, prosthetic or not."

Pegs couldn't argue. Curry was clearly in no shape to walk, let alone fight, and she may need medical attention. He pulled his legs from behind the chair and snapped them on, standing.

Lucas whispered something to Jesse, who then looked down with a slight panic in his eyes.

"We need to check her, first." Jesse told Captain.

"Check her, for what? She's been crying this whole time, obviously zombies don't cry, they just eat dreams or whatever."

Lucas laughed, "Brains, you fucking moron. They eat brains."

"Maybe Hippie-Zombies eat dreams?" Mark added, also laughing. The two of them laughed that up for a while.

Jesse wanted to laugh, but one of them had to remain serious if they were to get any help from either of these wookies. He did his best to explain.

"It is pretty easy to tell if somebody is a zombie or not. They either come at you lookin all hungry and pissed off, or they don't. But if she has been bitten, it won't be long before she becomes one. I'd say somewhere along your trip, maybe just as you've stopped to sweep a couple rocks out of your sandal. Next thing you know she's on your back biting into your skull."

"And then you'll remember, 'Shit! Zombies eat brains.'" Lucas butted in.

Captain, with all the drugs he ate for breakfast, was able to visualize that last bit quite clearly, and agreed to examine Curry for bite marks, absolutely positive they would not find any.

"Who's gonna do it?" Jesse asked.

Captain looked at him, confused. He had been sure since Jesse seemed to be the expert, he would be the medic in this case, and told him so.

"Well, we gotta check everywhere. So maybe you want to take her into the tent?"

Robin stood up finally and did some brief yelling of her own, "Just fucking check her already you assholes!"

She was right. They had all (save Jesse and Lucas, maybe Mark) seen her naked anyway. Captain was obsessed with how awesome and tiny her nipples were. So Jesse and Captain knelt on either side of her and rolled her over. She was asleep now. They checked her neck and head first, then went down the body, peeling the clothes of as they searched.

With her clothes off, there was a lot less blood and it made looking for marks a lot easier. Even Lucas, from where he was standing, seemed to be checking thoroughly.

The blood was only on her clothes, and was not hers. They found no bite wounds, not even scratches. Just mosquito bites and a single mole between her crotch and belly button. Rather than try and dress her again in her sleep, they wrapped a light blanket around her. Lucas turned around to hide his hard-on.

"So?" Captain was impatient.

"There's nothing I can see. "

"Then we leave. "

Captain lifted Curry from the ground and put her into the wheelchair. He took picked up the rifle again, and grabbed a few things out of his tent: his backpack, drum, bag of cigarette tobacco, a duffel full of pot, and the other with the red pills. As he turned around, Jesse had walked over and was standing in front of him.

"Take Lucas with you."

Lucas disagreed. "Fuck that, I'm goin' with him? No way. No fucking way. I'm staying here and slaughtering zombies goddammit. Fuck no. "

He might have gone on with the 'fuck' and 'no' all night if Jesse hadn't slapped him.

Jesse explained, "I assume they are aimed for the ranger hut, and what if the ranger isn't there? Then they will need a ride into town."

Captain, assuming they were talking of his legal inability to drive, took offense.

"We have the bus, I can fucking drive it to the hospital. I'd like to see those pigs try and stop me."

They weren't, of course remarking on his lack of a license because they had no idea, so his reply just confused Jesse.

"The bus is broke down, remember Cap?" Robin spoke up again.


"See Lucas," Jesse was looking at him now, "unless you want me to go drive your car?"

"Aint no motherfucker drivin my car but me, ever. As if she would even start with you. Fuck. You fucking asshole. Fine, I'll go, but this prick better give me my gun back."

Captain was ready to argue at this point, he really didn't want to walk with Lucas anyway, let alone if he had a gun. More so, however, he really wanted this charade to end and get on his way to making sure this girl who's nipples he loved was going to be okay. She was obviously in some kind of shock, and it didn't look like she would be snapping out of it anytime soon. He swallowed his concerns, tossed Lucas the rifle and started pushing the wheelchair.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

By request, another poem.

What would you like it to be about?

Hmm... lemme think... how about... Oil Fish of Death!

When the ocean floor should rumble,
and from it oil spills,
you might anger the wildlife
and for it, they shall kill.

your business is not down here,
the sea is for the fish.
and though we eat them in the norm,
tonight you are the dish.

they swarm to land in masses,
mutated by the leak
with tiny legs and breathing air,
they feast upon the weak

but be not fooled, for our strongest defense
is not enough to stop
the millions of fish that come to walk
and punish for your flop

sharks and rays and fish combine
their forces tried and true
an octopus joins in the assault
and spills oil all over you

so think twice before you drill again,
about the outcomes that may be
and remember that you have no right
to be poking around in the sea.

Worst poem ever! (although, probably the best one written in 30 seconds)


Robin stepped out of her tent wearing nothing. Hubble averted his eyes. He had seen her naked many times, but the reminder that it was something he couldn't have was unbearable and he could no longer look. She had been lured out by the smell of bacon and was checking to confirm that they were not cooking it on her grill.

It wasn't actually bacon, but a soy imposter. It smelled just like real bacon, but the taste was next to nothing and it looked like a child's crayon drawing of the food. After confirming they were not tainting her cooking surface, she retreated back to the tent. The rest of them had to listen to Mark and Robin having sex before they came out again.

Moke grabbed himself a couple of soy slabs and put them on a slice of improvised toast. He then made an extra serving to bring to his brother.

"I'm gonna go check on Tiny, and attempt to boo whatever shitty band this is off stage."

He left and Curry and Norma went with him.

Koi ate her breakfast, hit the morning's first joint once as it went around, then departed to take Licorne Rose de la Mar for a walk. This left Hubble, Captain, Robin, Mark and Pegs sitting at the campsite when Lucas and Jesse came into sight.

Captain was the first to notice them, but before he saw any faces he saw them armed to the teeth. He fell out of his seat in alarm and yelled, "What the fuck!"

Everyone's gaze turned to the clumsy Captain, and he said nothing more but pointed in the direction of the approaching duo.

"It's cool, I know these kids." Mark stood and started towards them, meeting them no more than ten feet from camp. "Jesse what the fuck. You can't just walk around with your guns out, there are a lot of people here."

Lucas rose his rifle and pointed it directly at Mark.

"I'm kinda surprised to find any fucking people at all."

This statement confused everyone, as they were sitting at the edge of a music festival to which thousands of tickets had been sold. Mark pushed the gun out of his face and warned Lucas "If you point that thing at me again, it goes right up your ass."

Jesse stepped in and introduced himself, taking the current joint that reached a break in its intended circle where he stood. He puffed on it once or twice, taking in his surroundings as he toked.

Mark had his arm around a girl when they first approached, who sat on the ground behind him now. There was one guy, almost completely covered in hair with just a tiny bit of skin around his eyes and nose showing who sat next to what looked like an expensive telescope. Another, also resembling a human mop with a wild head full of dreadlocks, lay in the dirt below his feet. There was another in a wheelchair, with no legs, though he had an obvious set of artificial ones strapped to the back of his ride.

The more Jesse thought about how to deliver the impending bad news, the harder it seemed. With the THC taking hold, this did not get any easier, but after the introductions were out of the way, Captain was not going to let them put it off any longer.

"So what's with all the fucking guns? They can't possibly allow hunting this close to a public event."

At this point Jesse nearly denied carrying any guns. If it weren't for Lucas shuffling his aim between them all (though doing his best to avoid pointing it at Mark), he might have forgotten why they came after all.

"Seriously, do you assholes even know where you are?" Robin asked, belittling.

Lucas wasn't about to be made a fool of, especially not while holding a firearm. While Jesse struggled to say what sounded more and more ridiculous as it ran through his head, Lucas was able to spit it right out.

"There are fucking zombies in these woods you cunt, and we came to save your asses."

Captain lost a hit. Hubble spit beer all over Pegs. Pegs was so pissed about the beer, he didn't process what had been said. Robin laughed, but when Mark reacted, she wasn't so sure how funny any of this was.

"Tony?" Mark asked, knowing damn well the answer.

Jesse took over. "He killed Scott. Tore him to shreds. Then he attacked the campground near where we were set up, and not only did he get all of them, but they seem to have turned."

"You have got to be fucking kidding. Get the fuck out of here." Hubble refused to converse with these kids anymore and stood up to leave. Lucas fixed the gun on him.

"You sit the fuck down."

They were all shouting at each other when Curry came running into the middle of the circle. Mark threw himself into Lucas, knocking his rifle into the air just in time that the shot he let off didn't hit her in the back of the head, but instead rocketed into the sky. Lucas fell back and Captain too jumped on him. Between Mark and Captain they managed to wrestle the rifle away from Lucas and Mark kept him pinned.

Curry lay there, crying and trying to catch her breath. She kept trying to say something it seemed, though only bawling came out. The argument was over for sure, because zombies or not, Curry was soaked in blood.


Koi was educating Licorne Rose de la Mer in various trees and other plant-life throughout their walk in the forest. Her parents owned a landscaping company back home, and she had grown up with plants and flowers, her house near something like a botanical preserve.

She had spotted a sassafras albidum and fawned over it, explaining to Licorne Rose de la Mer that it was by far her favorite. Though typically it was the root that was harvested for making oils and teas, she wouldn't uproot the tree here. The fruit would have to do, but she would be able to make a decent enough oil out of it that she might be able to sell some.

She was singing a little song about sassafras as she picked the small, dark berries from the tree. She included Licorne Rose de la Mer in the song (as she tended to with any song), which eventually shortened itself to a chorus containing only "licorne sassafras".

Over the sound of her own singing, she didn't hear the group approach behind her until they were nearly on top of her. She turned around to see Starlips, glittering in the sunline that broke through the trees. Koi screamed as she saw Starlips' battered figure covered in wounds that might still be bleeding, but before she could make an attempt to help her friend, she noticed the bunch behind her.

Moaning, drooling and clawing the air, they circled around here, pinning her against a tree. Koi had no where to go, and the intentions of those that stood before her were clear. She tried to plead with them.


Obviously zombies are not ones for negotiating, if they even heard her. Before any of them were able to reach her she lifted Licorne Rose de la Mer to her face and kissed the fishbowl. Starlips put both of her scabbed hands on each of Koi's shoulders and pushed her to her knees, while the others were pulling at her clothes, trying to get to the flesh beneath.

As Koi hit the ground, the fishbowl spilled. Koi gasped a protest as she watched Licorne Rose de la Mer plop out into the dirt. The gold was speckled with brown and a leaf stuck to the fish as it flopped around in an attempt to save itself.

Shock set in with Koi as her flesh was being partially consumed, but mostly just torn to pieces and scattered about. She took her last breath, her eye fixated on the fish who was staring back at her, and the two of them died there. Unfortunately for Licorne Rose de la Mer, only one of them got back up afterwards.


Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Sunday, June 27, 2010


Starlips wasn't always considered a hippie. She had really just gotten into the scene with a friend of hers, who was now off in law-school.

She got her name from the ridiculous amount of glitter she peppered her face and cleavage with. She was somewhat of a Techno-Hippie, and preferred long nights on ecstasy dancing to talentless house music. Nights that preferably ended in enormous orgies.

She never really considered herself a full-on lesbian, but rarely enjoyed the company of the boys, and found the beauty of a woman's body irresistible.

In the night before, after her hours on the swing set, she had taken some LSD and roamed off by herself. Now, as morning came, she stood in the woods beneath a particularly large tree, perhaps the biggest she had ever seen.

The tree danced for her. It's trunk was as big around as a small car, and reached forever up into the sky. She could barely make out its higher branches or the leaves upon them. She stood at its base, watching as the LSD helped it to sway and twist. Whenever there was a breeze she saw the tree bending with the wind, and expected it to uproot and fly away.

She stood there, mesmerized as the mob came up behind her, and she never saw or heard them coming as she stared into the tree. Even when they had pounced her, and tore away at her flesh with their hands and teeth, in her psychedelic state she never realized what happened. She didn't have the opportunity to mutter any protest as they chewed at her, and it wasn't long before the group stood back and watched as she rose, one of them.


Lucas and Jesse had made out well at the campground, arming themselves with another rifle and a couple of handguns. They filled their pockets and a backpack with ammo.

The campground itself was littered with carnage. Blood and pieces of flesh were all around. Tents, soaked in blood were ripped to shreds. There had been a serious battle here, though it was very obviously one-sided.

"We have to hurry," he said. "We need to get ahead of them and cut them off before they reach the festival grounds."

Lucas was all for hurrying. The sooner he got to shoot something in the face, the better. He didn't much care about the festival or anyone attending it. It seemed more fun, to him, to let them turn the whole festival before they arrived. More to shoot. He didn't mention any of this. Jesse was trained somewhat in tactics and knew what he was talking about, and more-so knew what he was doing. The more Lucas thought about it, the more he realized that he had the perfect companion for this sort of thing.

They made their way towards the festival, quite a hike after hooking back through the campground to loot. The sun was nearly completely risen now, which sort of pissed of Lucas since he would no longer need the night-vision goggles.

When they reached the edge of the forest, Jesse slightly panicked. He saw the festival in front of them, and though the music was going, it sounded terrible. There was very little movement in the outer edge of festival camping, save one area along the edge that a stream of smoke rose from.

"We beat them here."

Lucas sighed, disappointed.

Jesse shook his head. He knew that Lucas was only in this for the chance to kill someone, zombie or not. Lucas was ready to fire his gun at the first thing in range to look like a zombie. This would make him a great soldier, when the battle finally came, but until then Jesse was concerned that Lucas might be a little crazy.

Jesse scanned the edge of the festival grounds that were along the forest edge, for quite a ways. He was pretty sure the undead gang would have to enter within their field of vision from this point, considering that in other parts the trees were just too thick.

A breeze carried some of the smoke their way, and as it brushed past their nostrils, Jesse and Lucas caught the aroma of bacon. They were both feeling hungry, and this scent did not help.

Jesse considered the options, then reported his plan. "We need to go to that smoke and warn these people. Maybe they will give us some of that breakfast."

Lucas laughed, "Bro, we got guns. Those hippies will give us whatever we want."

Jesse shook his head as they started towards the source of the smoke. "Whatever you do, Luke, just let me do the talking."

Lucas let out a chortle and said, "Just let me do the shooting."


Friday, June 25, 2010


The music was well under way when Tiny opened his eyes. The sun and complete exhaustion prevented him from opening them all the way. The music was faint, but it was there enough to remind him of where he was before his eyes could take any of it in.

The crowd was all around him. He was surrounded by people, as he had remembered being shortly before he apparently blacked-out. The rest of the evening was completely lost to him, but this was nothing new to Tiny.

He reached down beside him for a beer, but he hadn't been able to feel any. When he tried to pry his eyes open to an acceptable state of awareness and search for a brew, he realized that none of the people around him were dancing. They weren't moving at all. Hundreds of them surrounded him, all turned in his direction, staring.

They all had blank looks on their faces pointed right at him, as if waiting for him to awaken and start the show, while the real show was going on behind them, and not a one seemed to care.

He felt starved, and the stares made Tiny uncomfortable. He felt bloated and wanted a trip to the toilet, so he made an attempt to move. He felt a pinching as he moved his muscles at first, and then a severe burn from his ass to his thighs. These were not the normal pains of too long in a chair, and no one knew that better than Tiny. Upon examining himself, he realized that as he leaned in either direction, the chair came with him, the umbrella above his head with it.

His underside had fused itself to the chair he had remained in for almost an entire day. He grunted in pain as he felt the flesh tear when he tried to move, then screamed when he could't pull at it anymore.

Looking around himself, he discovered a puddle of his own filth and blood beneath him. His stomach was bloated and risen while the rest of him sagged tremendously. He could feel flabs of skin and fat falling off him, like he was melting in the hot sun. He saw patches of discoloration in the skin throughout his body, and his veins were all visibly black. The more he moved the more he tore at the skin stuck to the chair and his gobs of fat hung lower to the ground.

His movements stirred up the scent of his own putrefaction and he vomited, covering his chin and chest with an acidic bile that killed his senses, and he lost conciousness again.

Everyone remained staring at him. No one said anything or made a movement. They looked on as this enormous human slowly became a massive, pungent blob of decay. None of them reeled from the odor, or shied from the sight as chunks of meat spilled away from Tiny's body and plopped into the sea of discharge, which insects were working their way through.

The band, unaware no one was really paying any attention, just kept on playing, but the sound was all terribly out of key and sync.

I interview Me!

In my first ever interview, I get down and to the point with myself. I seemed like an O.K. guy in person, but I can understand why everyone thinks I am such an asshole.

Q) So, your first name is Justin, our clever team of basement-dwellers figured that much out on the internet. Obviously your current bio is some kind of gimmick. Care to tell us who you really are, and where you are from?

A) J Gilliam Martin just has a better flow to it. Plus there are handfuls of other Justins these days, and they are all douche-bags. I currently live in Doylestown, PA, which I attempted to settle into as a local author. The issue here is that both Doylestown and I fucking hate each other. I grew up in Maine, but to me it seems a bit cliche to boast as a horror author from Maine. I totally threw M&Ms at Stephen King at a high-school basketball game once.

Q) Did he notice? Any hits?

A) I don't think we did hit him or that he did notice. Shit like that probably happened to him all the time back then, he sorta did stuff worth talking about in those days. And there are assholes everywhere.

Q) So where do you call home, then? Who's local bookstores should be kissing your ass?

A) Hell.

Q) Oh, right. So let's talk about that, then. How did you get hooked up with Satan?

A) We've always gotten along. I think he knew my Mom. The guy has some great ideas and just no time to fucking put them down on paper, you know? I offered to help in exchange for a few things. Of course, as with any agent, I aint seen shit, yet.

Q) Hippies vs. Zombies, tell us more about where it comes from and where it is going?

A) You would know just as much about that as I would. I mean, it comes from Hell, obviously. As for where it's going... Satan and I talk about it on occasion, but really it is all written moments before it is submitted to the blog. The biggest problem I find with drafting a novel this way is that people are waiting, anticipating. I need to be somewhat organized for a post. I have to be in the zone with a clear head. As clear as mine gets, anyway. I can't just ramble on it when I am drunk and fix it later. I mean, obviously before the book is published I will edit and revise it, but if the whole thing looked like P2b, there would just be no point. No one would read that shit.

Q) So we get to read your half-ass draft for free now, then you expect to make us pay for the final version sometime later?

A) Exactly. If there's one thing I expect from all this, it's to make the human race pay.

Q) You're an idiot. So what else beyond this?

A) Beyond this shitty interview?

Q) No, beyond HvZ. What else are you and the Devil planning?

A) Oh. Well, there's The Preposterous Baron Grill, which was originally intended to be my first novel. It's a family-fun story with a moral: Spay and neuter your pets.

Q) And this about essays? Music reviews? Where is this blog going?

A) I will never really make this blog about me. My life is not only boring, but most often in complete shambles. It's really hot here in Hell and I can't seem to hold it together for more than two or three hours in the morning. I have some non-fiction, opinionated ideas I would like to explore, while keeping true to the sort of dark humor Satan has gifted me with. I don't want to spill any beans because some asshole will steal the ideas, and I'm really trying to get through my early career without killing anyone.

As for music, music is what fuels me. I actually like tons of various music, but my heart is in Metal. I think with this I am actually going to review things I don't like. Negativity is what I do best.

Q) So people will be able to come here to read about how something sucks?

A) Yes, and then 90% of them will go buy it anyway.

Q) Well this has been informative, however lacking in entertainment. Anything else you would like to add?

A) No.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

What the hell is going on around here?


Yeah, I know. So as a reminder to everyone who might be joining us in the midst of all this madness, Hippies vs Zombies is just being drafted here on the blog.

I am aware of how sloppy and confusing the last couple of posts have been, but if you think that is bad, you should have seen my fucking brain at the time!

I had to lay out those characters and give them a basic foundation, which i will not say was done successfully... but it is done.

Everything should be back to normal here any day now.

A team of imps is hard at work putting together the new website, under the watchful, slavering eye of one of my very favorite people Mr. Byron Rempel.

I also have some fun new things planned for the blog, such as an essay (believe it) sections, and music/concert reviews, because music and concerts are things I like to talk about.

In the meantime, check out some semi-local music that makes me super-fucking-ultra-happy.

Monday, June 14, 2010


The rest of the hike in went mostly unnoticed, except for the occasional stop so that Tiny could catch his breath. His breath, of course, consisted primarily of marijuana smoke, so the stops were long enough for two joints. In a group of nine, one joint would get to Captain, and he would suck it down to his fingers in fear he may not be passed it again, so they always rolled two and passed them in opposite rotation.

Some good had come of the bus failing, and that was that the group was permitted to skip the line, which consisted entirely of people needing to park. One line for cars and one for RVs, the nine attendees on foot were allowed to walk right in. This nailed them an exceptional camping spot in the back of the designated area, on the border of the woods.

Tiny had forgotten his tent.

"I should have just stayed with the fucking bus. This is bullshit. All of you with your two persons, where the fuck am I supposed to sleep?"

The sight of Tiny alone in a two-person tent conjures images of turtle. Everyone knew Tiny was going to bitch about something at any given moment. Whenever he actually had to contribute to his existence, he was unhappy. They also knew that within an hour he would drink himself into forgetting his problems, said existence becoming not so unlike that of the turtle, were it on its back.

"Wouldn't you rather camp near the music anyway?" Hubble suggested. "We've got the umbrella chair, you could go set it up at the stage now, never have to move the whole weekend."

It was meant to be a joke, but Tiny was sold on the idea and immediately grabbed himself a growler of I.P.A. and the umbrella chair, and gave them all the finger as he headed off in search of the best place for his throne.

"He could've taken some fucking stock with him," Captain said, arming himself with backpacks and pockets full of product to sell. From LSD to Ambien, they had enough drugs between them to put each and every one of them away for life. "I'd like to be rid of this shit by tomorrow night, so that I can enjoy myself the last day."

They all contributed in the sales. Starlips also had her own bag of goods to sell. From hemp bracelets to glass beads the size of golf balls, she had always been crafting something. September to April she hid away in her apartment making assorted trinkets and paraphernalia. Anything she was unable to sell online in the off-season, she brought and sold at festivals on the road. There was a barter system amongst the scene, and most of her shit was traded for someone else's shit. Often she headed back to her apartment at the end of the summer with more bags full of other people's homemade junk than she had left with of her own. She had been the first to leave after Tiny, followed by Captain, Moke, and Curry, all carrying their share.

The others stayed behind and continued to make their campsite home. Koi removed her goldfish from around her neck. The fish's full name was Licorne Rose de la Mer. Were it ever referred to at all, it was simply called fish. She set the fishbowl in the center of a small folding night stand. Removing a small pharmaceutical container from a pocket hidden under her skirt, she used it to sprinkle nutritious flakes into the water, which Licorne Rose de la Mer bobbed and pecked at until the water was again clear.

The food was of Koi's own recipe which, though she would never admit it, made cannibals of her pets. The recipe contained a good amount of fish, as well as various vegetables. She had multiple tanks back at her parents' house, but Licorne Rose de la Mer was the only fish of hundreds that had the privilege of riding passenger. Since Koi was nine years old, Licorne Rose de la Mer was the name given to a dozen identical goldfish. Koi had no idea, and probably still believed in such nonsense as the Tooth Fairy.

Hubble and Robin grilled some tofu and relaxed over a meal, before setting out to search for Cukes and Floorplan. They grilled a chunk of the bean treat once, then Robin found out pegs had cooked a hamburger on the grill at a previous stop. Revolted by the fact that her food would be tainted by the touch of something that had once touched dead flesh, she threw the hot grill at Pegs, which sizzled on one of his prosthetics for a moment as they all laughed. She brought out an unused grill rack from her pack and cooked another slab of the tofu.

Pegs had been set up with his wheelchair once everyone had settled in. He strapped his legs in a criss-cross behind his wheelchair, sheathed like the swords of a ninja. Pegs was not beyond using his disability as an advantage. He used their pity to the fullest to get whatever he could out of them. He was off to pray on the sympathetic after the grill incident. He had hoped she wouldn't notice the burnt burger-juices so that he could tell her when she had a mouthful of that curd, and watch her wretch. Robin however, always at the height of awareness, had avoided humiliation as she always did.

With the campsite all set up and everyone out kicking off the weekend as they did any other festival, the event was almost in full swing. Crowds were forming in front of the stages and filling various event tents. The booths were peddling wares. The line of homegrown craftsman behind the rented booths were selling twice as many wares.

Tiny had gotten him self all set up in the middle of a standing area in front of the main stage. He sat in a chair looking ridiculous as his fat rolls hung over the sides almost completely hiding it. He looked as though he was hovering, seated like Buddha, with an obnoxious rainbow umbrella hanging over his head. He had a drum circle around him, banging out off-tempo noise while they waited for a band to play.

Moke and Tiny were, in fact, twins. Somewhere in the mysterious magic that is genetics, Moke ended up with all the looks, smarts, and everything else beneficial to mankind. Tiny was born an enormous infant, and rather than grow he sort of blew up like a balloon. He seemed to grow horizontally rather than vertically. Sure, Tiny was over six feet tall, but a measure of his width would drop your jaw in awe.

Moke had failed out of college almost as soon as he had moved in. He was to be a lawyer, like his father. When his mother passed (fucking cancer), he ended up skipping all of his classes to make sure his brother had what he needed. Moke had always felt guilty for being the extreme norm of the two, and though Tiny was not technically handicapped in any way, he always let Moke make up for it in whatever way possible.

Eventually the school sent Moke a letter that he was being withdrawn from all his classes, and that they had seen him too irresponsible to further attend their school. Moke laughed out loud in the kitchen as he read it. He had been quite high when brought a lighter to the corner. After shaking the flame from it as it almost burned away in his hand, he put the charred remainder on a sandwich he had been preparing. Slapping some extra mayonnaise on the bread, he closed it up and fed it to his brother.

There had always been little jabs like this. Small, mostly harmless pranks Moke would pull on Tiny, who never had a clue. The list was a long one, for sure, but usually involved feeding him some inedible or disgusting morsel.

"Anything we can get you Tiny, you seem pretty comfortable."

Tiny dug deep in considering whether or not he 'needed' anything. In much to the same respect that Moke trie to get even in his secret little ways, Tiny could never bring himself to reply that he didn't need anything. It was especially hard in this case, however, for he was at the peak of relaxation. With the mushrooms giving him a slack perspective on his surroundings, and his beer supply plentiful, there wasn't actually much of anything he could want, let alone need.

"How about you find me some chick to sit on my lap, and leave me a joint or two," was the best he could do.

Moke laughed, knowing that soon enough Tiny would have a girl on each leg. He might not have been much to look at, or even stand near, but he was considered high quality company, and made the ladies laugh. Tiny was considered the white, hippie version of Biggie Smalls. A half-ass king of the free spirits.

Captain pulled a loose baggie from his pocket, along with a book of papers and handed it to Tiny. "Here you go, pimp," he said, "but you gotta sell this, too." He dropped a duffel-sack next to Tiny. None of them could say specifically what was in the duffel, other than drugs, but Tiny knew the drill and would unload as much of it as possible, partaking in more than his share all the while.


The rest of the day went like any music festival should. Intoxication levels raging from head to head, dancing and smoking and drumming. There was a small area with a sprinkler system for running through as well as multiple swing-sets. Starlips had been lost on a swing when her she attempted to pass by, and was still there long into the night. Moke joined her later, after exhausting his ability to mingle and push his stock. One of them talked all night about various stuff she had accumulated, while the other rocked gently, slumped in a swing, listening through ears nearly as closed as his eyelids.

There was no sign of Cukes or Floorplan, and though they had given up any kind of search, everyone still expected them to just show up at any point with some incredible story.

In the evening they were all out seeing this band or that. The lot of them were all looking forward most to Bubba Scorch and the Black Grass Jug Band, scheduled to play the final night. These festivals always saved the best for last through these weekends. It made no sense to anyone, since you always wanted to be at your peak of intoxication or psychadelic experience or whatever when the best band came on. This prevented the hard-core goers from leaving on Sunday, in which case they were always in the way of cleanup on Monday.

Everyone had met up for a meal just before sunset that evening, save Tiny. Moke had visited him shortly only to learn that he was dead on with his prediction about the girls, and that Tiny was having the time of his life. He was being treated like royalty, and there was nothing Moke could offer him that he couldn't have easily had fetched by someone far more sexy. Moke did relieve him of the duffel bag, its weight considerably less than when it had been dropped off.

Typically at weekend music festivals, more people tend to not sleep than otherwise. Starlips and Koi were the only ones of this group to partake in any sort of resting before the sun came up. The group had been visited in the night by some kid named Mark, who was clearly out of place. He came from somewhere out of the woods, a shady approach that often discouraged interaction. Hubble had recognized him from the escort on the road earlier on their way in.

There had been five of them, he remembered specifically the obnoxious music blaring from the Escort and was then able to recall the faces of those in the car. To Hubble, listening to that type of music was only for people who actually had no musical taste. They wanted a show from their aural media, and harnessed its speed and volume into negative energy. Despite his proclaimed love for everyone and everything, he thought very poorly of the 'metalheads' and just assumed this kid was an idiot.

Robin had taken a liking to him and claimed him for her own. Since her boyfriend left society to join some society of stoned gypsies called the Prism of Light Family, she had obviously been longing for masculine attention. No matter how hard he tried, Robin saw right through Hubble. He was like a brother to her, and every passing day made this more and more apparent. He was so in love with her though, that he never gave up, and completely dismissed any flirtatious advances from other women.

When just about everyone had retreated to their tents, whether sleeping or not, Captain staggered into the campsite. He was so absolutely fucking drunk, he nearly fell into the fire, knocking over a couple chairs and nearly spilling Licorne Rose de la Mer into the air.

"Holy fuck, fish! Don't go!"

Hubble sat alone for some time before Captain arrived, staring through his telescope into the morning sky for glimpses of things that would go unseen for the remainder of the day.

"We have a back-up at the bus."

"What? What the fuck did you just say?" Captain had no idea what Hubble could be getting at.

"The fish. Her parents always give Robin a back-up fish, should something happen to the current sad motherfucker to be stuck in that bowl. They've done it for years. Silly girl thinks that fish is over twelve-years-old."

Captain looked down at the fishbowl and stumbled backwards. He rubbed his chin on his chest fighting back serious indigestion, and shook his head like a wet dog, any recollection of recent conversation erased.

"How'd we do with the shit today? All back in my tent?"

Hubble didn't sell a thing, but he knew that everyone else, especially Tiny, had done well. "The duffel you gave Tiny is almost empty. I think Starlips got rid of at least a backpack."

Captain unzipped his tent to find various forms of luggage piled up inside, his merchanise returned. "Fucking sweet." He drug out the 'sweet' so long he almost fell unconscious in the middle of the word. "Which duffel-bag did Tiny have, this one?" He pulled out a red bag and fumbled at its zipper.

"No man," Hubble said reaching down beside him. "It was this one. The black one. I don't know what the fuck you've got in here."

He tossed the bag to Captain, who managed to catch it. It knocked him on his ass, despite only weighing a few pounds. The fall knocked the wind out of him and cracked him up laughing at the same time.

When he opened the bag, he agreed with Hubble. "Fuck, I don't know what this is either."

He pulled out a bag with unlabeled prescription bottles inside. Each bottle-cap was marked with a '6'. Inside the bottles were six blood red pills, each also inscribed with a '6'. Captain tried hard to think through the fog of alcohol clouding his brain. "What the fuck is '6'?"

Hubble pulled his head from the telescope and turned to Captain. "I don't know what it is. It could be anything, and your boy has sold god knows how many to these people."

Hubble took a pill in his hand and they both studied it from all angles.

Hubble sighed, "Well, I guess all we can do is wait and find out," forcing a chuckle at the end.

Captain dumped the bottles all back into the duffel and lay on his back, staring up at the sky, his consciousness fading fast. "I sure as hell ain't gonna try it."