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Freddy Barnett's

And Then Things Got Weird….

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destruction

Bats ^^Ö^^ The Dinner Hall Scene

“No one tells my Gibor children what to do, Gretel Van Helsing!”roared the twenty-foot tall 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, 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. Drooling, the giant smiled with his mouth full, burped and asked, “Who’s got the Sriracha?”― from “Bats”

^^Ö^^

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An Interview with Kālī (from Shark Fin Soup)

New Shark Fin Titled copy

It was 6 p.m. The end of Bernie’s first day at the Interpol office in Los Angeles. He was beat. The agent’s job at the agency was based on his ‘talent.’ Bernie had been hired because he was not only able to see, but also communicate with religious apparitions.

Bernie’s first day on the job ended with a short, unscheduled, but action-packed interview in his office with the Hindu goddess  काली (Kali).

A few minutes earlier, Kali, being her usual sweet self, looked down at Bernie through the splinters of his new desk and grinned her blood covered rack of 14K gold teeth.

“I AM THE GREAT KALI!!!!” She circled the desk and castrated its four legs with a swipe of the four Jambiya  घुमावदार चाकू in her four hands, pinning Bernie to the floor in the middle of the rubble.

“Please, stop, काली!” he pleaded.

“Call me DOOOOOOOOOMMMM, Agent Benedict,” the Goddess of Destruction hissed, “AND you will thank me for beating this lesson into your sappy skull. My गुंडापन Thuggee followers, who number in the millions, still send me sweet little boxes containing their progeny’s still-beating hearts on Saint Jack the Ripper’s Day. I just want you to know that what, I, THE GREAT KALI!!!!, am capable of. What I can do to you…is NOTHING…Mwahahahaha…Nothing, compared to what that Brazen HUSSY Dauna Robinson will do to your maracas before you leave the building TONIGHT! … By the way,” Kali said, while grooming her fluttering eye lashes with her flaming jalapeño tongue, “This is hard for me to ask.”

“What? Anything! Anything! Spare me, oh, great Kali! Your wish is my command, oh fearsome goddess!” said the fetal quivering loogie named Bernie.

“Stand up, Agent Benedict. I was only joshin’ with ya,” Kali said, while brushing the wood dust off of her armored golden sari. “Do you think that you can set me up on a date with your friend, Frankie?”

“The Sumatran?”

Kali softened her voice. “I’m asking you as a friend

.…Or else, Worm!”

 

Black Friday ^^ö^^ from Bats

“Who is it?” said the new commander König Buckel (King Hump). “Is it the Van Helsing boys?”

“It’s me, Kapitän Flitzer (Streaker)!”

“Hurry! Come in,” said König Buckel.

“Ja, boss! I think that an army is coming through the forest.”

“Are you sure? Take a ladder, look over the parapet, and…”

“Is my hair okay?”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Flitzer, you are not all that. Put on some pants. The gold ones are nice.”

When Kapitän Flitzer carefully looked over the top of the castle wall. In the moonlit forest and across the moat below, he saw a sea of ten thousand women. Lupta Axe’s new army of fans had surrounded the castle. The Black Friday shoppers had built a bridge; a human bridge fashioned from the bodies of sacrificed shoppers to reach across the moat to the drawbridge. The women who had the free samples of Outa-My-Way-Asshole! brand coffee were already tearing at the drawbridge with sharpened fingernails. Others beat at the twenty-foot wooden barrier with heavy handbags and stiletto heels.

“Commander!” Flitzer called down. “You have to see this!”

A woman’s voice called up to the frightened soldier, “Open up, Flitzer. It’s me. Your Aunt Stella! Open up! It’s midnight!”

“That is correct, ma’am,” said König Buckel, who had joined Flitzer at the top of the wall. “I am the commandant and it is midnight. So what? You should be home with your husband!”

There was a sudden calming in the fields below Poenari’s high walls. The moonlit crowd parted like the Red Sea. A woman built like a tractor approached the drawbridge swinging a purse loaded with a dozen heavy, greasy beignets. She stared up at König and ground her strong jaw.

“Go away, whoever you are!” said König Buckel. “The park is closed until tomorrow at 10 a.m.!”

“I am Pauline! Open the drawbridge or I’ll soon be using your skinny neck for butt floss.”

There was more banging. More determined women’s voices.

“Open up!”

“Sale!” another screamed.

Flitzer watched their torches in their left hands pierce the darkness as they chanted, “Sale! Sale! Sale! Sale!” Purses in their right hands swung like spiked medieval flails. Pauline stood at the head of the crowd and spat acidic venom that began to burn a hole in the wooden barrier.

“What are you people? Go home!”

“We are here to spend money! It is Black Friday. We are here for shoes, clothes, and free stuff. You are the worms who will die if you get in our way!”

“Quick, Flurry Schamhaar (Flurry Pubes),” said König, “I want all of the Meine Runt-Pferde suitcases brought out here into the courtyard. All of them. I want them unpacked and the clothes folded neatly on the tables. Now!” König Buckel called out to the women at the moat, “Give us another minute!”

“All of our clothes, sir?” asked Flurry Schamhaar.

“Yes!” said König. “We all overpacked for this trip. Hurry!”

The women outside began to chant “Now! Now! Now!” Inside the courtyard the heavy wooden beams of the drawbridge began to splinter.

König Buckel climbed back below.

“Sir!” said Flatternscheuen (Poser). “Things are about to get ugly! And 50% off!” He handed his commander König Buckel a flyer he’d picked up off the ground.

“Damn! Black Friday Sale!” said the commander.

Flatternscheuen turned the flyer over and read the back, “‘For the first two thousand of my loyal fans who storm Poenari Castle at midnight, all clothes modeled by the Meine Runt-Pferde will be 50% off!”

“Wait,” König said to Flatternscheuen. “That witch is talking about giving away our clothes, sweetie.” Flatternscheuen continued reading aloud, “Stick around for a free Chanel gift certificate, and there will also be dozens of available men.”

Oh, really? thought König Buckel.

“…and lots of designer shoes. PLUS, I will send a copy of my new book—FREE!—to everyone who mails me back their flyer. Signed Infinity Upton-Downes.”

The commander glanced at the witch’s flyer. “Infinity Upton-Downes! I love her books!” König Buckel dropped his weapon belt, grabbed his Chanel bag and turned to his weary soldiers. “Men! I’ve only heard of them in legend. These women of Black Friday, if they are who I think they are, are unstoppable. So it’s goodbye, my comrades. Auf Wiedersehen! So long my little Frechen Säugen (Perky Suckle), my brave Mond Mich (Moon Me), my handsome-but-straight Brust Gucker (Breast Gazer), and the rest of you sweeties! It was an honor to serve with—”

CRACK!!! The drawbridge shattered. The women stormed the courtyard with fire in their eyes trampling over each other to get to the tables first. Others attacked the König Buckel’s troops. “Flunker-wagger! Flunker-wagger!” the women were chanting.

“EEEEEEEyahhhhhhh!”

Pauline, who led the charge dressed in a badass polka dot dress and matching hat, met the commander eye to eye at the bottom of the staircase. She pushed him against the stone wall then swatted the commander with her wide brimmed hat. “Give me your boots,” she said to König Buckel, who was shaking in his pair of Nudie Saddle Ups.

“I-I-I…these were a special gift. No! Besides, you look like you wear a size eleven and these are nines.” Pauline started to twirl her beignet purse slowly. “No! They’re from Nordstoms, you beast,” he said. As König Buckel slowly backed up the spiral stone staircase, she matched his every move. He lashed out with his handbag and missed.

“What do you want for those boots?” she asked as she swung at his head. König ducked, saving his skull from being cracked like an egg.

“They were a birthday present from Heinrich Van Helsing! I’ll never find these again. Nudie stopped producing this line in 1995.”

“Heinrich Van Helsing? Are we talking about the same football player Van Helsing?”

“Please!” König screamed. “Heinrich! Heinrich!” Oh Lord! Where is my Heiny???

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