Auggie the brain child lapped up his protein paste like a dog.

“I’m exercising my right as a supreme power to do whatever the hell I want!” He exclaimed.

Mellonok looked toward him with an irritated gaze. “Please do not use the word ‘Hell’, Augisterelle. Fallacies no longer hold any weight in the context of a swear.”

He propelled forward on his vector field pad. “Well I’m a fan of the archaic terminology. These Mad Men optical broadcasts you have let me data-wave are full of great historical references,” he mentioned to Mellonok as he buzzed around the room.

“For instance, they would take the regionally made, liquid perception distorter, ‘bourbon’, and add acid juice to it along with tree droppings. It was called an ‘Old Fashioned’.”

Mellonok engaged Auggie at the exam slab. “Help me with my quandary of log 6 of the Mad Men optical. Here, take a look at this moment that I gathered from the node. Now this perception distorter elixir was bestowed upon their guests in the rising hour, it appears to be similar to several others by sight. But I know this is not the same distorter used in those classes.”

Auggie tapped his fingers as he held onto his chin. “It’s not a Pineapple Plantation? Marvel Sling? What about Yellow Almond, or a Zombie?” He asked.

“No, no. Zombies has too many distorters in them. It should only have one type in the high ball receptacle based on solar position in the Mad Men universe. Not until lunar show do they indulge with multiple distorters. I thought you knew all about this!” Mellonok fired back.

After much back and forth, and accessing the archival internet library, historical documents revealed the drinks to be mai tais. The end.

*I want to make a photoshop to go along with this, so stay tuned*

Wheezy the Vampire, a smoker in his former life, had a terrible disadvantage when stalking his prey.

Everywhere he lurked, even in the shadows, the townsfolk knew that he was waiting to strike.

He couldn’t even float within a couple meters from his potential victims. Like clockwork, they would shout, “Wheezy, get out of here!”

Until one day, it dawned on him. “I need to attack those who cannot hear me,” he thought.

But there were no deaf people in town. He was back at square one.

Until one day, he awoke to the most peculiar sound. It was as if he had become disembodied and finally could identify what he sounded like to all mortals. It was coming from down the street. Smokers, glorious smokers. He felt like a buffoon for not thinking of it before.

They won’t know what bit them.

The view is beautiful up here. You were right.

And take in this air. It’s so refreshing.

Ahhhhh… bird farts. Love it.

Curse these shins. I wish there was a way for my legs to not give out once I’ve sprinted 85 feet!

But didn’t you hear? That is all you have to sprint now to be safe! You just have to stumble for the last five feet!

Proof that I have what it takes! **Click this ESPN footage of me**

“There’s a snake in my boot!” - Ugly

I could hear the hinges squeak when I logged in. I gotta use this thing more. But I need to get back into the right mindset. I will come up with a gimmick (Pfft, like we haven’t heard that before)!! Don’t want to waste that money given to Go Daddy for my URL. I need to re-up soon too. Here, have a picture to tide you over until I get back into writing blogs!!!

Ramon looked at his son. “Happy Birthday Carlos! Take your pick.”

Carlos looked away from his father and glanced down the line of prostitutes standing before him. “I think I like the brunette one,” he said and smiled.

“Alright then, I’ll wait in the car. Have fun.”

Carlos looked back at his father. “Thanks Dad,” he shouted as he watched his dad walk through the front entrance of the brothel. The brunette grabbed Carlos by the hand and escorted him down the hall. “You better not make a habit of coming to places like this,” the prostitute warned as the two of them walked towards the back.

Outside, Ramon walked back to his sedan. His other son sat in the back passenger seat. As Ramon opened the door and began to sit down, his son leaned forward. “Dad,” he said. “Why does Carlos get a hooker and I don’t?”

Ramon turned to his boy. “Well Emilio, you just have to be different. Since you don’t want to take on a stage name like your brother and me, well then, you don’t get a hooker.” Ramon faced forward again and proceeded to turn up the radio.

And this is why Charlie Sheen is the way he is, and why Emilio is the good one.

                                              Chapter 3

Mirror Man sat in front of his vanity. He removed his hood and began to brush his hair. “One, two, three, four, five,” he hummed the rest.

After he placed the brush back into it’s respectful drawer, he leaned towards his reflection.

“What makes a man? Could it be his weapon of choice? Is it his nemesis who shapes him?

                                              Chapter 7

Perched high above the city, Mirror Man looked upon the citizens as they walked the streets, possessed by their fulfilling lives. “I wonder what kind of role models they had growing up?”

                                              Chapter 13

The Black Hole and Mirror Man grappled, hands locked together. Back and forth they went, no end in sight. BH noticed Mirror’s footing was starting to give, he acted quickly. Loosening his left hand, he dropped his shoulder and lodged it into Mirror’s chest. He bellowed.

On the ground, Mirror contorted, twisted. He grasped awkwardly at his back, wincing from the sharpness he felt.

Without hesitation, BH leaped on Mirror and pinned him on his back. “Admit to me your darkest secret, for I now know your weakness.” The Black Hole brought forth the Event Horizon Eye, and forced it directly within Mirror Man’s view. “Gaze! GAZE INTO IT!”

Mirror Man could not fight the effects. Repressed memories of that faithful day at the barbershop came flooding back. “No, no. Don’t let me get the mumbles. I cannot take it.”

“Tell me your darkest secret,” BH demanded. “I want to know what keeps you up at night. What is it that you are holding you back?”

The pull from the Eye was too much for him. Mirror spilled the beans. “Well, uh you see, I still live with my father. Have for many years now. I should feel proud of myself for helping him out. But it’s more of a curse than a duty. I don’t owe it to him. That’s all there is to my anguish.”

“Really? You still live with your parents? And you’re how old?” BH rose from the pinned Mirror Man and began dusting himself off. “Fuck. I don’t even want to fight you anymore. I actually feel bad now. And I’m supposed to be the villain! Rob a fucking bank and move out there, mister good guy.”

The Black Hole extended a hand to Mirror and pulled him up. “Jeez, do you even have a girlfriend? Shit’s got to be like kryptonite for your sex life. And even if you keep that little tidbit from them on the first date, it’s still unavoidable. Once they find out the house isn’t yours, they hightail it.”

The Black Hole grimaced. “Man, I was in such a good mood before I got here. How  the hell do you cope when you feel like this?”

Mirror Man shrugged his shoulders. “Not much I can do since I gave up all of the bad vices. I drive around a lot now. Sometimes I read. The occasional drink works. Too broke to go on holiday though.”

“I know that we swore an oath against them,” stated BH, “but I’m gonna buy you a pistol for Christmas. Then you will at least have the option of ending this misery.”

Mirror Man smiled. “Thanks, I’d like that.”

                                              Chapter 20

After climbing out of the debris, Mirror Man reflected the sun’s rays towards the hissing propane tank.

Mirror shouted to the growing fleet of patrol cars. “It doesn’t have to be this way.” His voice began to crack. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

The concussion from the blast knocked everyone back. Mirror frantically ran as everyone scrambled to their feet.

A cadet turned around, green from all the excitement. He faced the Chief. “He’s right sir, why are we pursuing him?”

He looked down at the kid. “That’s how it has to be, son. You either die as a ray of hope, or you live long enough to get burned.”

Woody Harrelson entered from the left of the stage. He greeted the audience with a nod. “Good evening. Most of you may not like me anymore, and I believe it’s for a role I played this year. Yes, I was the man who gave that little girl a dead goldfish.” He looked quite comfortable in his tuxedo despite his situation.

“I believe that the role gave me some opportunities as an actor. I don’t regret the choice. Many of you took it to heart, it seems. But I want to help explain it better. I don’t believe the message was clear enough. It was meant as a joke.”

Woody reached into his jacket and pull out a ziploc bag. It was about halfway full of water. A goldfish with a large, expressive face, albeit dead looking, bobbed in the bag as he he moved it to eye level. “Look at this guy. He isn’t intimidating. He’s funny looking. How can you get mad at me for giving it to that girl. I would want it myself if I were handed it. Just look at that face.”

He stared at the fish through the thin plastic. Then Woody slowly turned back to the audience. “How can you not like this face?” He then turned the fish back so it faced the audience again. And then Woody made the same exact face. It was spot on.

The harvest was bountiful this year. Snap looked over the orchard baskets in the back of his pickup and exclaimed. “My my, this year will definitely please the masses. I bet we can run production for at least an extra two months.”

Pop dropped the last basket in the corner of the truck bed and wiped his brow. “Most definitely, Snap. I do say, W.K. would be clicking his heels if he could see all of them.”

Feedback hissed from a pa horn hanging at the corner of the orchard. “The mixers are primed. Waiting on you guys.” The connection dropped and the air went silent.

“Ughh, can’t he cut us a break. Sheesh,” complained Snap as he pulled out his pack of smokes. He handed one to Pop, who thanked him with a nod.

“Making foreman has really gotten to his head.” Pop punctuated the sentence with a long drag of his cigarette.

“Yeah. He knows the growing season is running later than usual. What the hell? At least the long rain this year increased output. I mean, look at it. Have you ever seen so many fruity marshmallows at one time?

“Never in my life. What does he care anyways? Shit’s gonna get done. Remember when we had to pour this crap in by hand? All I know is, Crackle’s lazy ass barely ever lifted a finger. A true business man. Look at this old company photo! Evidence!”

“THAT ASSHOLE!”