You look so skinny.
You look so skinny.
The fresh vampire Jonathan had taken flight as a bat for his first time in pursuit of Heydrich and Heinrich Van Helsing at the moment that the town hall exploded. The fireball had set fire to his new wings, causing him to land, roll, and extinguish himself on the damp lawn. He looked back and cried out, “Mina!” He realized that Mina must have been blown to bits and that he wouldn’t be able to get near the burning hall. He couldn’t afford to be laid back tonight. He wanted good old-fashioned revenge.
It was then that Jonathan experienced another “first.” Feeling uncool.
He pulled himself up off the grass, howled at the ever-present moon and decided that he would tear the two Van Helsing jocks into itsy bitsy spider-sized pieces. As Jonny galloped, the sound of Brutehilda popping fifteen of her captive’s skulls punctuated the night air.
Jonathan’s third “first” of the night was to turn wolf. He sniffed the twins’ tracks and knew immediately where they had gone. Good doggie! Good doggie! he complimented himself as he followed the jocks to the moat and tunnel that led deep into the River Styx.
Now that Tragic Mountain was open, a pre-recorded voice now greeted everyone who entered the Styx:
“Welcome to Tragic Mountain’s newest attraction—The River Styx Cruise! Hello. My name is Charon. I’ll be your ferryman on your journey through the underworld, which runs from beneath Poenari Castle to the nearby Lake of Tears. The River Styx is the most important waterway of the underworld. It connects to the rivers Lethe, Eridanos, and Alpheus.
In ancient times some believed that placing a coin in the mouth of the deceased would lead one to the entrance of the underworld. For your convenience, admission to the ride is now collected at the toll booth, which accepts all major credit cards and is now located at the boarding area. Special Z coupon customers will get to ride all of the way down to the Fifth Circle of Hell, where the wrathful and sullen are punished by being drowned in the muddy waters for eternity. Please, no food or drinks are allowed, and please keep your hands inside the ride at all times.”
Heinrich and Heydrich raced past their aunt and uncle toward the maze of tunnels. As Jonathan loped behind the football twins, his “good doggie” ears heard the sounds of an argument.
The Story of Anacapawana
When Anacapawana’s 20-foot-long lifeless body was brought into port by a now tearful, remorseful, and nearly sober Captain Craig Williams, she weighed in at nearly 4000 pounds. This was in part due to her last meal, two (totally depraved and degenerate) 200 pound sea lions, who now lie “asleep” in her delicate tum-tum.
That afternoon, they lifted Queen Ana’s huge, fragrant and quickly decomposing body by the tail. Then suddenly, from deep inside the great fish came a loud “rumble.” The astonished crowd looked up at Anna, and then, like two peaceful and smiling “Mona Lisa’s” on an amusement park ride, the seals slid out of Anna’s great mouth, gracefully smooth as liquid mercury, onto the dock.
“FLUMP!” they came out plump, whole, and bloody-“FLUMP!” ruining the gayly, freshly painted pier.
Laughing children with cotton candy faces beamed with delight, and laughed and cheered as they watched the fun. Their Sunday-best-dressed moms and dads were there as well, sipping cool lemonade among the curious gathering strollers. They all watched, licking their chops, as the local restaurant cooks cut many fillets, on that perfect golden, sunny, August afternoon… once upon a gayly painted California pier … long, long ago …
One woman that I met in a Ventura bookstore said she was there, and pregnant, on that lovely day. She wasn’t all that thrilled about the two seals, and simply threw up when they slid out.
The Gibors stared back at the Van Helsings, the twin sphincters who called themselves “bosses.” They were bewildered! Perplexed! Being idiots, the Gibors never had an idea what anybody was talking about.
“No one tells my Gibor children what to do, Gretel Van Helsing!” roared the twenty-foot high Saturn who had burst through the door and took a place in front of Vlad’s crew. He squatted and opened his arms to the stupid trusting Gibors. “Come to Daddy, kids!”
“This doesn’t look good, brother!” said Gretel. “We should make like lightning, and bolt!”
Always obedient, the repulsive Gibors ran into the arms of their daddy, Saturn, who had created their miserable but delectable race long ago in ancient Mesopotamia. Daddy Saturn began to bite their heads off in quick succession. The entire room, already sick to their stomachs, was startled to see a continuous splattering loop of Francisco Goya’s Saturn Eating His Son (and all of his son’s Buddies).
Drooling, the giant smiled with his mouth full, burped, and asked, “Who’s got the Sriracha?”
Reluctantly, the ‘Bloody Countess’ Elizabeth began to climb the wall using her nails, pissed because she had just had them done. She wouldn’t bite the Van Helsing’s guests because there was the risk that they could become immortal. The countess swooped in from above, struck Hansel with her left claw and Gretel with her right, gashing both on their foreheads. Bullseye! Hideo the Van Helsing’s vulture dropped a flurry of cash for the Van Helsing family to use as a cover. Elizabeth had lost track of the Van Helsings, blinded by wads of money and a crowd of their money-grabbing friends! Vlad D. Impaler swung from the lights, laughing.
Hansel and Gretel Van Helsing, spearheaded by their football-hero nephews, Heinrich and Heidrich, were bloodied but alive. The two idiot brothers led them toward the exit with an end run around the commotion toward the doorway and smashed out into the night.
Saturn commenced to his chomping and blood popping as the little Gibors yelled, “Me next, Daddy! Me next!”
There was blood, torn flesh, and empty Gibor heads rolling across the floor. That was all fine and dandy. Gore, guts, cannibalism, blah, blah, blah.
The audience suddenly shifted its focus when the only thing hotter than the spicy buffet food entered the hall.
The entrance door was kicked open by the long shapely right leg of Mina Bathory. She carried a Colt revolver holstered around her too-short Annie Oakley fringe skirt and wore the meanest pair of Fuck-Y’all Heels north of the Danube. “DO WHAT I SAY…AND EVERYONE GETS HURT!” she demanded.
getting exhibit ready
Humutopia. 1-14-19 acrylic Fred Barnett
Centurian (full body in progress) 1-1-2019