Monthly Archives: May 2012

Trifecta XXIX / ZB 4.5 – The Harvest (Prequel)

This Week’s word is:
DECAY (intransitive verb)
3: to fall into ruin

I’m going to take a step BACK this week in the Zombie Bunny story/time line. This week’s ZB fix takes place between Episodes 4 and 5 (I have links below that line ’em all up for you).

Plus I am off to the other side of the country (San Diego) tomorrow for a week, so take a moment if you please and revisit the story from the beginning. [Note that I have tried my best to keep consistent ;)] I might not be writing, but I will try and check up on you all from my phone.


The scents and sights of decay intensified as they reached the farm. At first it was the expected rancid dumpster stench that defined rotting vegetables, but a thick almost sweetly metallic fragrance, less familiar to the layman, lingered at the olfactory scale.

Agents Un, Dewey and Trippi were familiar with it. Sometimes they caused it.

The agents fanned out across the cabbage field, in sight of one another; Un took center, Trippi the right to the silo and Dewey to the left to the house and barn. A fourth, agent Pfeiffer, stayed behind in his hazmat suit, taking samples of the crops, and the pellets that illuminated even on this sunny day. Cicadas rustled in the trees and bushes dotted along the property.

“Status?” the voice in their earbuds was not any of theirs; The Director was at HQ, monitoring the situation.

“No sign of anything living…or not,” Un whispered. “Crops rotting faster in proximity to pellets,” Pfeiffer added. Un glanced towards Trippi, who was moving too quickly to the silo. “Trip, stay sharp.” He wasn’t nervous, but he started when a leafy vegetable flickered in the breeze just outside his vision.

Un’s checkpoint was a scarecrow dangling crookedly from its perch. He reached it, humorlessly noted the Carrot Top likeness, and scanned the farmland.

Dewey was at his point, but was idling along a dirt path between the house and barn. “I got bunny bodies…” he reported.

“Dewey, house is priority, get there now.” Even within his whisper, the authority was clear. I’m not going to let the rules slide on a dipshit recon mission, he thought bitterly, knowing the Director was hearing these lapses and would give him hell, even if they foun…

Un interrupted himself as he realized the cicada’s chirping had ceased, and a low continuous squeaking had taken its place. He scanned each direction, but couldn’t pin a location in the open field.

“We’ve got company,” he muttered darkly, not noticing the scarecrow’s red hair shuffling.


The Zombie Bunny Entries:

    1. Fetch the Holy Hand Grenade!
    2. Part II
    3. Part III/Prequel
    4. Part IV
    5. Part V
    6. Part VI – Welcome to the Fold
    7. Part VII: Peeple are Peeple
    8. Part VIII: Off-Balance
    9. Part IX: On the Edge
    10. Part X: Get to the Choppa!
    11. Part XI: Heroes and Villains
    12. Part XII – Setting the Stage
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Trifecta XXVIII / Zombie Bunnies 12 – Setting the Stage

This Week’s word is:

WILD (adj)

3: a (1): not subject to restraint or regulation : uncontrolled; also : unruly
(2) : emotionally overcome ; also : passionately eager or enthusiastic

We return to the action of Zombie Bunnies…

The limo ride through battle- worn streets was tense enough to make Emma’s jaw ache, as she sat alongside Richard and two generic ‘suits’. They were leading an entourage that included several trucks and a full length bus, each pristine and boldly emblazoned with the EM logo.

“This zone was affected worse than Delta,” Connar explained. “Though the epidemic didn’t originate from this facility,” he stole a quick glance at Emma, who met it with flaming meteoric daggers, “It was the first field research laboratory the government set up.”

The government presence was notable, as the bunny and civilian corpses were suddenly replaced by soldiers’ bodies and equipment. As they drove past a wrecked checkpoint, Emma looked through the tinted window and noticed McMuscles standing nearby watching them, a high power rifle slung over his shoulder, and shells (walnut and bullet) strewn around his feet.

* * *

A thick stack of printouts was waiting on a desk in the office Emma was assigned to. After a short restless nap on a military cot, she had begun to leaf through them, when there was a bustle at the door and two men barged in; a young man in khakis, EM-logoed polo shirt and headset, and another whom she recognized and loathed immediately; TV host Donald Carcharias. “Why is her room larger than mine?!” Donald seethed to the other, without acknowledging Emma. “This is unbelievable, I… well hello dear!”, he switched his tone and smiled as Emma approached. She took his outstretched hand, meeting the wild demeanor emphasized by his veneered grin and saran wrapped forehead, with some leftover daggers, wishing she had those bullets instead.

“So sorry we missed each other earlier,” he apologized, “but…”

“Mr. Carcharias, what the…”

“Emma, please! Call me Don!”

Fuck. You. “Mr. Carcharias, why are you here?”

“Ehhehe… feisty, huh? Well, I guess Dick knew our personalities would clash perfectly.” He glanced at the printouts. ”I see you have the script- keep reading. They want us ‘on set’ in twenty.”

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Trifextra XVII – Love’s Last Call

For this weekend’s Trifecta, we return to a photo prompt. Your task is to use the photo below as inspiration for a story or poem of between 33 and 333 words.

We wish you well.

“I promise, I’ll write every day, Roddyberry.” Julia whispered in Rodney’s chest as the bustling, whistling and bumping motions of the train platform throbbed around them.

“While you’re writing, know that I will be thinking of you at that very moment, Juliebean,” he replied just as endearingly.

“Well maybe not at that very moment,” Julia considered, “since you’ll be in the middle of that Kardashianstan village, and there’s a nine hour difference. So, think about me around 6-9am your time, just to be sure.”

“Umm right, got it.” Rodney was a bit confused, but love was wonderfully confusing.

“ALL ABOARD!” the conductor yelled, eyeing the two lovers.

“Oh darling one more embrace!” Julia cried. They hugged for what was hours to them but really just 15 more seconds. Rodney broke off the hug and walked to the train, bags in hand, not looking back.

Ca-shunk!The train doors closed in his face. The sour look on the conductor’s face on the other side of the glass cracked into a sharkish smile. He’d had enough of these bratty idealistic kids heading out to change the world with their scraggy beards smooching it up like this was a bordello. And him wondering all the time if that little harlot of his would spend the days mooning for him and not do the vertical sock hop with the first duck- tailed punk that rumbled up in his motorcycle. The world is full of everyday lessons. This was the least of the harsh ones.

Rodney turned back to look at Julia, crestfallen.

“Oh darling I’m sorry!” she cried. Rodney sighed heavily. “Well, I think we have an hour until the next train.”

So they walked together, that awkward anticlimactic silence that shouldn’t have originally been, now forced upon them. Heading back upstairs, they made out halfheartedly, but Rodney managed to cop a last feel before the next “ALL ABOARD!” announcement. He grabbed his bags and headed to the escalator, his pace brisk despite the luggage.

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Trifextra Sixteen – Mother’s Day

This weekend’s Trifextra is the first of its kind. This weekend we only need 32 words from you, because we’re giving you the 33rd. Your challenge is to write anything you want, in whichever form you please, so long as your response is exactly 33 words and includes the word “mother.”

Good luck! And to those of you women with children who have called, will call, or already do call attention to your natural process of aging: happy Mother’s Day!

Keeping in mind that we are allowed to put up to 3 in an entry, I have some words over 2 short poems that immediately came to mind. These are truly personal, straight from the heart, and yes I will send her the link here, so she knows just how I feel.
Yes, Mom, it’s all out in the open.


You’ve always supported me, mother,
so why not on this?
Dammit that bug we found in Honey Nut Cheerios-
-that was 1981!
I’m older, wiser and over. Plus it may help lower cholesterol!

* * *

Don’t worry mother;
The cats are my ‘kids’,
But you’ll have ‘real’ grandkids some day
You can feed them tuna, on sandwiches!
And the toys you spoil them with
Won’t be catnip scented.

P.S. – Since you probably showed Dad— don’t worry Pop, I’ll cover you on June 17th 🙂

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Trifecta XXVI / ZB XI – Heroes and Villians

This Week’s word is:

enig·ma noun \i-ˈnig-mə, e-\

1: an obscure speech or writing
2: something hard to understand or explain
3: an inscrutable or mysterious person

Please remember:
Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
The word itself needs to be included in your response.
You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
Your post must include a link back to Trifecta.
Please submit your post’s permalink, not the main page of your blog. For example: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2012/03/trifextra-week-eight.html not http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com.

You know what time it is?
Come along and sing the song!
Z-O-M-B-I-E B-U-N-N-Y!

Well our heroic siblings have been rescued, so we can all take a deep breath and relax…

Emma and Allen’s uneventful ride in the helicopter should have been relaxing, but with McMuscles sitting across from them, opening walnuts in his fists (Somehow, he managed to keep the brain shaped nuts intact) they shared an uneasy feeling.

“Where are we going?” Emma asked, after deciding Allen wasn’t going to.

He paused. “Empire Media Headquarters, ETA 10 minutes.”

Allen then spoke up impatiently. “What, are you collecting survivor stories?”

“We brought your father in this morning. Mr. Connar wants you all together.” Crack. End of conversation.

Despite Richard Connar’s public presence (and self- financed documentary), Emma and the general public still saw him as an enigma. Having watched ENN, she doubted his intentions were for some tearjerker reunion footage. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

* * *

They landed on the rooftop helipad as scheduled and were unceremoniously led to a penthouse conference room. Emma noticed the wall sized screen as they entered, broadcasting the neighborhood where they had been only a short time before. Bodies, both human and bunny, were scattered around the area, with gratuitous closeups of the grenade impact zone.

“Yes that’s the aftermath,” Connar announced with no introduction. “We shot your escape, and got another chopper out there making a little extra news for us.”

“Where’s our father?” Allen asked looking around suspiciously. Connar gestured impatiently.

“He’s doing his part, reassuring the public that KillEmAll will end this crisis.” He reached in his pocket and presented a thumb drive. “This information we rescued with him contains data on the project you and your colleagues worked on, Ms Appleby- the one that created the outbreak. Your father’s appeal to save you was more than paternal, thankfully.”

“We’re securing a government-grade laboratory for your use, and will monitor and even broadcast, your progress. Refusal is not an option. Oh and Allen,” he turned and nodded to McMuscles, who unholstered a very large handgun, “Push aside those thoughts of attacking me. We’re only looking for one type of hero right now.”

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The Ol’ Take and Give

No I haven’t gone anywhere. After a few busy weeks, I have decided that work can wait a little and I can return to my diligence of reading your blogs and other more interesting activities, especially in light of a few important wordpress-related honors.

Firstly, thank you for your notes and comments thus far, especially with The Zombie Bunnies saga, which will continue again very soon. I write it as I go, but have managed to weave a plothole-less story so far! I MIGHT actually write something that is not guided by prompts!

Secondly I got this award:

From Sheila Hurst. Nope no fancy moniker, but that’s the point. Her writing is just as forward and honest. Check her out!

Ironically my blog was ‘spoesda have more varied ideas but then Zombie Bunnies came along from those fateful Trifecta prompts, but I accept this anyway!

I also made the short list from CookieMama. She cooks. She’s a Mama. She also writes, but left that part out. She does all three things awesomely.

With great power and accolades, come assignments. This is two parts. First, I have to post 7 things about me.

  1. My name isn’t Brian Tomahawk, its Peter Brain-Tomahawk. Well not exactly.
  2. Every time I type the word ‘the’, it comes out as ‘teh’. EVERY time. Autocorrect is absolutely pissed off at me.
  3. I am currently taking a Chinese language course (speaking/Pinyin only, not characters). I am enjoying it immensely, probably because it is voluntary, not required. The learnin’ never stops.
  4. I eschew $100 million blockbusters for cheesy B horror movies. You can pretty much figure out that is where my inspiration for Zombie Bunnies comes from. If ZB ever becomes a movie, I would prefer if James Cameron stayed far away from it.
  5. My drawing style is Cro-Magnon. There are petroglyphs that are Sistine Chapels in comparison, which means that if you play Draw Something and/or Pictionary with me, it’s actually MORE fun, because bad drawings are hilarious then. I do take damn good pictures though, so that is my other creative expressivity.
  6. I have two cats. Yes I will do a “Show and Tell” on them, since you just read that and said “AWW KITTIES!”
  7. My favorite pizza toppings are onions, mushrooms, garlic, spinach, olives and pepperoni. I have never had ham/pineapple on a slice, which does not appeal to me at all. The only thing that could be worse is BBQ chicken pizza.

Second part – I recommend people to you. Basically you should read and follow them all.

OldDogNewTits – come for the name, stay for the satire. She’s a ticking time bomb…of hilarity! So forget the bomb squad, just cut whatever wire you want.

Lance’s life has a soundtrack, a plot and a message. So he’s like your favorite 80’s movie.

Everyday Tangents — a tangent or rant every day keeps us sane. She’s a student – you were once. She likes ketchup, and you don’t call it catsup either (who the hell does?). So you have so much in common. Now…GO!

BudgetCookingBlog – A professional chef shows us how to make the quick and easy meal look and taste gourmet-style, proving that no recipe is ‘above’ you.

OhmygawdjustdowhatIsay – . Yes she is a mom. If you are a mom, you’ve wanted to scream that once or twice and can relate, so go and bond. If you had a mom, then go to her and see what you probably put your own mother through. Then call your mom and apologize for not just doing what she said when she said it. Because she said so that’s why.

SightsNBytes shares the images and memories that run through his mind and out his fingers. THAT is what blogging is all about. He also has a storyline ongoing right now, that you need to get in on!

BlueJellyBeans – Again, quick and do-able recipes that feed your souls as well. I am backed up with her recipe ideas; we should all have such problems. Also Blueberry Jelly Belly beans are my favorite.

JenniferWorrell – There is a lesson here; if you have the stories to tell that she does, then you are obligated to tell them. It is…your destiny.

JannaTWrites — A fellow dutiful Trifectan, she can mold any prompt into a quality entry, and it can come from any direction. One thing is guaranteed, it will be a good read.

Imelda — A newbie to me at least, so if you start reading her now, we’ll both discover her honest, frank writing/poetry/photos, and brag about how we knew her back when.

Basically though, anyone here should click on everyone up there, but also down there, who comments or likes this or any of my blog posts – the thing you have in common is that you are both here, so check each other out. Guaranteed you will like what you see.

My apologies if I missed you this time around, especially if I missed you blogspotters, since I have to check 2 different favorites menus; you will make it to my blogroll, whenever I get around to putting it up (if you know of a good format for it, let me know).

Thanks again! We will return to our regularly scheduled ZB mayhem by week’s end. Till then, time to catsup with you all.

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Trifecta XXV / ZB X: Get to the Choppa!

The Word of the Week is:
thun•der noun \ˈthən-dər\

1: the sound that follows a flash of lightning and is caused by sudden expansion of the air in the path of the electrical discharge
2: a loud utterance or threat
3: bang, rumble [the thunder of big guns]

Ok Emma and Allen are STILL about to be fed to the bunnies while the cameras are rolling…but wait! A wild helicopter appears!


PJ Appleby jumped from his seat towards the screen. “Emma! Allen!”

Connar turned to him, a curious expression on his face. “You know those two?”

“I know my kids when I see them.” PJ replied evenly.

Connar’s demeanor changed; Appleby doubted his smiles were ever a source of comfort. “Really? Well, that changes things.” He clicked his remote again and sound burst from the speakers on the wall. The thumping of the rotors was in the background. “You hearing us, Murray?”

“Loud and clear,” Murray Bedward, EM Carchase Correspondent, replied.

“Good. Scratch that last plan. Screw the cultists, get me those prisoners.”

* * *

“Move!” Allen turned as he shouted the order, grabbing the cultist behind him who was distracted by the looming helicopter. They wrestled briefly for his gun, but the other man shoved and sent him sprawling over an air duct. He moved to Allen, bunny ears askew, and leveled his weapon.

*Blam!* The man’s head, and bunny ears exploded. Sprayed with bone and blood, Allen looked at the ‘copter and saw a camera, no wait, a side-mounted cannon spit another salvo at the other cultist, who was ignoring Emma and preparing to fire on them. His fate was even messier.

A ladder rope was lowered to them and they climbed on, Emma first. As Allen neared the top, the copter swayed, and a man in a cheap suit and deafening tie leaned over to block him. What the hell?, Allen thought.

“Too much weight,” the man proclaimed, and moved to hit Allen. Suddenly, he pitched forward, then tumbled out, taking a screaming nosedive into the pit of bunnies. Allen hauled himself into the passenger hold.

“That better?” He heard the voice and noticed a man sitting next to Emma, seemingly made of muscles, a green mohawk, and a grimace. He nonchalantly pulled out a grenade, yanked the pin, and tossed it down to the bunnies. “Try hiding that egg,” he catch- phrased as the thunder of the grenade explosion rumbled below them.

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