All NaNo’s Eve

It is several days after ‘Sandy’, and I have power, heat, light. There’s no damage to my apartment or car. Work is cancelled for the entire week, half of NYC has no power, and the subways are flooded – so I am not exactly celebrating. The 4 hour blackout that was in my area was planned, as they needed to repair a neighboring area’s transformer, literally the next block. Yes I am lucky, and I appreciate every second of being able to be writing this.

Among other things, Halloween will be rescheduled.

This was the extent of my costume. It was an instant buy when I saw it.

Not shown: Nasty big pointy teeth.

This should segue nicely into some interesting news. You may understand the shirt’s reference, as my first Zombie Bunny post refers to it. Yes it was an instant buy when I saw it (teefury.com).
Also tomorrow is the beginning of NaNoWriMo. I try to do it every year, and have not had that much success with it. Even if I do ‘win’, I usually do not ‘finish’ it.

Until now.

This year, I will use NaNo to complete the Zombie Bunnies story. From the very beginning to the end, adding new people, places, plotlines, and fleshing out what I already have.

After it’s done, I have a few people who can edit it, and maybe even help along the next couple of steps as well. Whether or not they can help, or that I even finish it this month, that’s the goal; I want to get the Zombie Bunnies story published. I draw inspiration from the efforts, advice and success of those of you who write every day, and give advice not only on the product, but what to do with it – I’ve been listening, and value your words. Now I want to take that advice and use it on to accomplish what you have.

In just a few more hours it begins, during one of the busiest months of my job, and that’s without a long weekend of holidays. I have a head start with the outline and these couple of days off, but most of all, the backing of Zombunny fans.

I will try to keep up with other prompts as well, and may tease you further with some parts along the way.

Part of NaNoWriMo, or just want to watch? You can find me here.

Here’s to opportunity, inspiration and knowing the value of everything.

The Eve of the Storm

For the past 5 days NY’ers have been advised to prepare for Hurricane Sandy, and she is now upon the Eastern seaboard. I am in Zone B, so it’s windy and a bit rainy right now.

Many people are still skeptical, since last year Irene was not as bad as anticipated-but new year, new hurricane, new rules. People are still going to work, and driving around. No last minute buying of supplies, at least at the corner pharmacy. I could still get milk and bread yesterday (though powdered milk is actually more sensible), but the deli was packed (hurricane or not, ham was on sale!). A guy at the store debated about buying pet food – ‘just in case’. In case your pets turn against you? In case you have to decide between eating pet food or each other?! Everyone is making fun of Bloomberg’s attempts at Spanish (hey he’s trying) rather than what he is saying. Newscasters are oohing and aahhing over water levels. Chris Christie’s blunt dry humor, and reassuring remarks are well received.

I’m off today – the MTA is shut down, and I was just informed that work is closed tomorrow as well. I do have the things I need, in case power goes out – since the lines by my house don’t need to go down for me to be put in the dark. They are estimating power outages for several days (which means people in Queens will take about a month). Phone is charged. I haven’t wanted to start a post in case power shuts off, but maybe I will think up some hurricane (Or Bob Ross – it’s his birthday!) haikus, maybe scratch some notes for trifecta or the Zombie Bunnies to pass the time.

So all is well for now, the worst is due tonight. Wish us well.

Well Met, But Not Well Done

Ok, well this week’s prompt was to write about something that we feared as a child (or maybe even now) and how we deal with it (unless you haven’t, and it is a veritable time capsule under your bed because no way, no how, are you sticking your head, hand under there to look for something!). I tried, but was inspired by another idea, one terrifyingly true to life, and so while I did use the word (sinister) I will not be ‘entering’. If you click the tricycle though, it will take you to it, so’s you can comment and lavish warm commenty goodness on them. (After reading my story first, of course!)

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I watched the old building, knowing the location was correct- but were my instincts? Months of endless reading, sending transmissions, infiltrating a hidden circle. The message I discovered was no accident, did the radar blip and find me? Fear instincts threatened to creep in like the October breeze. Was it bait? I would know soon enough.

My shadow stretched to the door before I did, the sun giving its last light for the day. I pulled at the worn metal handle, the correct choice reassuring me, as the door creaked open.

It was darker inside than the twilight I had left. Trying to adjust my vision, I swear I could see shapes. Were there people milling about, or their souls, still not finding the solace they once sought within these walls ? It was hard to tell, the worn leather and wood chairs groaning, the large metal oven still ticking, waiting for a spark.  There was life here, and if it was a sinister presence, I was dead meat.

Various altars of heavy wood were scattered about. Symbols were carved upon all of them; the rough edges of blades  scratching and puncturing from determined hands; others drawn and painted on. Messages, testimonies, memorials?

What did I know about the Divers anyway? They were loyal, single minded – sworn against the systematic Shackers, forcing their own to wait, single file, in any weather, to feast.

“You’ve arrived.”

I jumped, turning to find several figures standing in a half-circle behind me.

“Huh? I was, just… you were expecting me?”

“In a way. You obviously decoded the subtle message I posted, meant to summon Divers, but sometimes new acolytes find us.”

“But let’s not grill you further.” He put his cloak aside, and waved his hand towards the oven. There was a louder click and it ignited, burning bright, warm, hungrily. Another member handed me a glass filled with a thick, dark brew.

The group gathered at a large altar and looked towards me expectantly.

“Medium well ok?”

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Lady or Not wants YOU to link your spooky stories!

So as it turned out, the wait for a table was not hellish, the Guinness WAS dark,
and the Bistro Burgers were sin…fully delicious.

Love & Lunchmeat, El Guapo, and I.

Ketchup With Us #4 – Who’s Laughing Now?!

In 57 WORDS OR LESS, retell the plot line of your favorite horror movie. And, if you can find one, be sure to include a movie clip of your own.

Ms Mel and ODNT are at it again with Ketchup #4. Get in on it!

After racking my brains out over all of the (ridiculous) horror movies I have been watching, it came to me, why overthink it? Get back to basics, the movies that got you INTO horror. Freddie, Jason, Michael, even the Toxic Avenger are all legit. To me though, the icon of cheesy horror is Bruce Campbell, better known as Ash in the Evil Dead series.

And so I decided to go with the cult favorite: Evil Dead 2: Dead by Dawn.
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Sam Raimi’s horror classic, starring Bruce Campbell’s chin, comes complete with a 1973 Oldsmobile, tape recitation of the Necronomicon which unleashes evil, possessed hands & chainsaws (never a good mix), sight gags (A Farewell to Arms), and a cellar dwelling monster who provides an eye- popping scene. The climactic ending proves you can’t escape fate. Groovy.
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Oh a trailer was requested. I found one for the Evil Dead (remake). Rarely do I endorse that idea.

Rarely am I actually terrified by a trailer. Part of me wants to see this in theaters. Another part wants to hide now.

Seriously, the trailer is crazy. Click at your own risk! Enjoy!

Trifextra 38: Careful What You Wish

On to the weekend challenge. The Monkey’s Paw, a short story by W.W. Jacobs, is about the strings that come with granted wishes. We are asking you to write 33 words exactly about three wishes that come at a high price to the wisher.

First off, who thought of the Monkey Paw skit from “The Simpsons Treehouse of Horror II?”

Anyway, here are 3 wishes that kind of backfire.

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Rocket ship filled with celebrities shot into sun – it goes supernova.

Prize winning ‘package’ – no blood flow to brain, you pass out!

Acting/ musical/ reality show fame – suddenly awaken…on a rocket ship?!

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Trifecta 47

On to this week’s prompt, which is again inspired by the upcoming dark holiday. This time, though, we’re giving you a lot more room for interpretation. Please remember to use the third definition, which, in this case, is fairly specific.

BLACK
3: dressed in black

33-333 words.

Well this is part of a larger assignment, it seems. It started with this post, which was done by request, then some of you* expanded that to include Death for a Trifecta challenge. Well I missed one of them, but this week well, read and see.

*yes those are three different links. Click all the blogs!

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Pat Porquepene was a prick. Everyone who had any dealings with him learned that firsthand, and liked to say “Pun Intended,” when labeling him as such.

Still, he was a hell of an operative. One of the few of his species that could actually shoot his quills (with point blank precision, no less), his come-on to any female that had a hint of rodentia in her blood, that some of his quills were poisoned, gave an extra whiff of danger to his overactive pheromones.

His latest assignment took him to Comoniwanalaya Island, where the climate and culture put any species into heat the moment they flew, or swam, in. He sat by his cabana, nibbling tobacco bark and staking out Count Skunkula, ruler of Rainbodia, a once prosperous nation whose namesake rainbows only appeared on the oil slicks from his many unregulated factories. Skunkula’s secretary, Wilda Beest, was two cabins down, sunning her ample frame. Pat had ordered room service to deliver a bale of Avalonian hay for her, to which she had returned a come- hither glance that made him shiver. The hazards of this job…

Suddenly, a figure sat next to Pat. Glancing over casually, he noticed the figure covered in black robes, giving no hint to his features. They sent a partner? I work alone… then again I can pass Wilda on him…

“No, she can’t see me Pat. Right now, only you can…” the figure answered.

“Who sent you?” Pat asked, his cool tone beginning to fail.

“The Fates. I got your assignment, and what a location to do it! We get expense accounts too, and this won’t even count towards my vacation time! Tell you what, I’ll let you know right before you buy it.”

“Are you…”

“Yep, Death. Inbonate. You see that sniper? Exactly. “The irony is Skunkula didn’t arrange this. Apparently you’re a real prick to many people. At least you won’t have to… you know,” Death gestured to Wilda.

“True.”

“Oh, and Pat? Pun intended.”

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Trifextra 37: On 3 – 1…2…

This weekend we are challenging you to write 33 of your own words to build upon the following: On the count of three… You can choose to include those words if you want, but they do not count toward the 33 words of your own.

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On the count of three…

I’ll open my eyes; those 19 year old supermodels (twins!) will still be in bed, but my wife won’t be standing at the doorway, with the gun.

Aw, crap.

-Me, 96 years old.

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Inspired by the Irish- attributed adage/toast

May you die in bed at 95, shot by a jealous spouse.

I got away with it a little longer 😉

Bristling

In my efforts to get the word out about BTdotcom, and the Zombie Bunnies idea, I spoke with a friend who is quite interested in my ideas. And yes I told her about you. Yes, YOU. *points to you*

She’s willing to put time and effort into it all. On one condition.

I write something about porcupines.

The Trifecta Challenge this week doesn’t help me out. I will not write about Death and porcupines. I only slaughter zombunnies, thankyouverymuch.

Lance’s 100 word challenge would be based on a song, and it’s not “Winona’s Big Brown Beaver”. At least not this week.

Something quick and easy shorter, more funner…

Wait a minute! El Guapo would know what to do.
So, a limerick!

There once was a porcupine
Who had a receding quill-line
He found applying Rogaine
Caused his paws quite some pain
So he bought a cheap wig made with pine

In the throes of inspiration I also channeled Clown On Fire, wiiiiith, a Haiku.

Hug a porcupine
in cartoons, your stomach sprays
when drinking water.

And to round this out, these two fine fellows are currently supporting many causes, including Movember.
Rather than give a lengthy explanation or interpretive dance, a limerick should dictate the ‘rules’ quite clearly.

For one month, do something brash
Grow yourself a thick hearty mustache
Rollie Fingers, Fu Manchu;
They got nothin’ on you!
Your plumage will help raise some cash.

us.movember.com

Trifecta 45 / Zombie Bunnies: No Love Lost

This week’s word is: UNEASY
1: causing physical or mental discomfort
2: not easy : difficult
3: marked by lack of ease : awkward, embarrassed <gave an uneasy laugh>

There is little ease in the Zombunny world right now. Some of you were wondering what led up to the latest parts of the story, which we saw from both Allen and Carly’s POV. Let’s go back about 5 minutes and answer that…in 333 words or less.

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Allen strode into the bedroom of his apartment, where Carly was carefully arranging her pelted headpiece for the evening rituals.

“Allen… hi,” Carly greeted Allen with an uneasy smile as he walked to her for a kiss. She glanced over his shoulder to the camera, then to him. “Is everything ok?”

“No, nothing’s ok,” Allen confessed. “Instead of sticking with my sister like I should have, I got caught up in this stupid idea, hooking up with some freakish…” he checked himself when he saw Carly’s expression.

“Sorry sweetheart, it’s just, this is why I’m back. She’s in danger on that show. I gotta get her out. Before that though, I need to get you somewhere safe.”

“I am safe… here.” Her tone was hollow, unconvincing.

“No, you’re not, nobody is.” He began to pace. “There are hordes of bloodthirsty undead animals hopping around and society’s either about worshipping or killing them. Doesn’t something seem odd there?! I just want you and I… don’t shake your fucking head Carly!” he stopped and shouted at her.

Carly’s voice was a whisper. “I care for you, Allen, it was something that we knew would happen… he knew it would.”

Allen’s face flushed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“That big man with the mohawk came by shortly after you had started this show. Connar wanted to help protect us, show the viewers how we are a peaceful sect, but we had to agree to some ideas first. They said you were attracted to me and he wanted us together as a side story, but I was betrothed to Barry. Then… his accident, and…” she broke down into sobs. “You weren’t supposed to know…”

The blood rushing in Allen’s head drowned out her words. Reaching behind to the shoulder camera, he ripped it off the backpack and threw it across the room. It struck the mesh lined window, shattering it. Carly yelped at the crash, as Allen stormed out of the room, not looking back.
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Ketchup With Us #3: Pink-Walled

On par with a Trifecta win, I got the Featured Writer honor from Ms Mel and ODNT. All I had to do was talk about monster movies and nudie mags.

‘KETCHUP WITH US’ – Prompt#3: Tell us in 57 WORDS OR LESS about a time you were caught red-handed, like a rat in a trap, with your hand in the cookie jar.
Enter here or here.

Well it wasn’t red, and it wasn’t my hands, but yes this happened. On one of the first days on that job.

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“You’re not allowed to paint any walls in the office, much less PINK”, fellow staff & higher- ups warned/ lectured/ busy bodied. Well, my boss wanted this, I thought smugly, stepping back to admire my clandestine, completed project, and kicking over the half- filled paint can onto the part of the floor not covered by drop cloth.

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*I checked some old CD-R’s and within moments, found this (I used to document everything – hey I might need it someday)

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