#Humor Writing

[fearissorrowful]

"Voice Modulation"

The first time it happened, you were half-asleep and clutching a lukewarm cup of energon-laced coffee Miko had dared you to try.

You stepped into the Decepticon rec room—more of a "tolerated human holding cell with vending machines"—and blinked blearily at the towering figure hunched stiffly by the doorway.

“Morning,” you muttered.

The Vehicon snapped to attention like a steel rod. His optics flared a little too brightly.

Then, it happened.

“Gracious awakening... meat-bundle.”

You froze.

“…Excuse me?”

The Vehicon twitched, static popping from his vocalizer. “Correction! Good—uh—meat day. Wait. No. Human day. Good. Human.” He stepped back, processor overheating from the effort. “I rehearsed this!”

You stared. Then snorted. Then cackled.

“Oh my god. Did you just call me a ‘meat-bundle’?”

He backed into a wall.

“That... may have been... an internal designation. I assure you, it was meant respectfully.”

Still laughing, you pointed your cup at him. “Okay, okay—gracious awakening to you too, toaster.”

He whirred at that. “You do not actually believe I am a toaster. I lack any heating coils or—”

“It’s a joke, Gearhead. Roll with it.”

“…Rolling now.”

To your absolute delight, he literally rolled backward three inches on his heel servos. You nearly spilled your coffee from laughing so hard.

Later, Knock Out passed by, looking entirely too smug as he flicked a wrench at the awkward Vehicon's helm. “Trying to flirt again, are we, Boltbrain? You almost called her a delicious protein slab yesterday.”

“I am calibrating my vocabulary modules,” the Vehicon grumbled defensively.

Knock Out snorted. “You're calibrating your crush, and you're crashing it into the wall.”

You took another sip of coffee and raised an eyebrow. “So... what were you trying to say this morning?”

The Vehicon hesitated, hands twitching at his sides. His optics softened—barely. “I wished to express… that I hoped your... day-initiating cycle would be pleasant. And warm. As you are.”

You blinked.

Your ears went warm.

“That was… weirdly sweet,” you mumbled, heart suddenly doing a dumb little flutter.

The Vehicon perked up like a hopeful puppy. “Did I… win affection?”

“No,” you replied, hiding a smile. “But you earned a point.”

He tilted his head, processors whirring. “How many points are needed to achieve… dating protocol?”

You gave him a mock glare. “Let’s start with mastering ‘good morning,’ first.”

“Very well. Downloading… Basic Earth Greetings for Soft-Shelled Organics, Vol. 1.”

“…This is going to be amazing.”

[noobiestnoober]

Last Minute Leon (Leon X Reader)

When it comes to love, some people write poems. You? You dive headfirst into bioweapon-infested nightmares just to see if Leon S. Kennedy will show up with his signature smirk and a terrible pun. In this hilariously chaotic comedy/crack one-shot, you keep testing fate—and Leon’s patience—by staging the dumbest, most dangerous stunts imaginable. Will he always come to the rescue? Can one survive love and Umbrella’s traps at the same time? With flying kicks, fake kidnappings, and sushi plans on the line, one thing’s for sure: it’s never just another day with you.

There were a lot of things you could say about yourself. Bold. Daring. Maybe even slightly unhinged, depending on who you asked. But above all else, you were consistent—consistently putting yourself in the most absurdly dangerous situations just to see if Leon would actually show up every time like some gun-toting, government-issued Disney prince with an arsenal and perfectly timed slow-motion entrances. Today? Oh, today was no different.

You dangled upside down from a rope trap—again—in the middle of what looked like a half-collapsed, Umbrella-owned abandoned science lab. The place was straight out of a post-apocalyptic fever dream: flickering lights, ominous sirens, and several suspiciously intact glass tubes filled with questionable goo. Because of course it was.

"Note to self," you muttered aloud, blood rushing to your head as a loose wrench clanged to the floor. "Next time, skip Reddit threads titled '10 Toxic Ways to Test His Love.'"

From somewhere deep in the facility, you heard the click of tactical boots, followed by the unmistakable swoosh of a door being kicked open. Leon S. Kennedy stormed in like a leading man who showed up late but insisted it was all part of the act.

Wind—there was always wind when Leon arrived, somehow—blew in dramatically, tousling his hair like he was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

"Heard you were in a bit of a bind," he announced with a smirk that could probably be weaponized.

You groaned. "That pun hurt more than the rope burn."

With one smooth motion, he unsheathed his knife and cut the rope like it was warm butter. You landed on the ground with an unceremonious grunt, arms flailing.

"You alright?" he asked, arching an eyebrow, clearly used to this by now.

You dusted yourself off and gave a casual thumbs up. "Physically? Mostly. Mentally? I've had healthier coping mechanisms."

This wasn’t even the first incident this week. On Tuesday, you infiltrated a Plaga-infested chicken coop wearing feathers strapped to your back because, quote, “Leon needs to witness me in my avian prime.” On Thursday, you sold your own location to a black-market merchant under the condition that he reenact a hostage scenario—complete with rope, duct tape, and fake demands. Leon showed up with two pistols and one-liner energy to spare.

"You know, there are easier ways to get my attention," he said now, sliding a flash grenade into his jacket pocket purely for dramatic effect.

You gave him a deadpan stare. "Yeah, but where’s the fun in not risking tetanus every time I flirt with you?"

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then gave that tired little smile—the one that screamed, “I should report you to HR but I’d probably follow you into a volcano first.”

You scooped up your slightly-burnt backpack and peeked through a cracked window.

"So… sushi after this?"

Leon tilted his head. "You just got nearly decapitated by a ceiling saw blade."

"Exactly," you said. "Nothing says ‘date night’ like dodging death and then drowning our trauma in soy sauce."

He sighed and checked his ammo. "Fine. But if I have to dive across a sushi conveyor belt to tackle a guy in a hazmat suit again, I swear I’m charging you hazard pay."

You saluted him with two fingers and a wink. "Deal. And I’ll even throw in a free wasabi dare. Bonus points if you don't cry."

As you both headed down yet another hallway littered with debris, flickering lights, and probably radioactive vending machines, you mentally mapped out your next big stunt. Helicopter ride. No doors. Just vibes. And maybe a flying kick for good measure. And, if he was lucky, you’d let him make another cheesy one-liner.

[gastrophobia]

As mentioned before, I left Twitter and deleted every image I ever uploaded to Twitter (including my avatar, which is now an egg) due to the new policy regarding all tweets being used for AI training starting November 15th, 2024 whether we like it or not.

That's today!

As Artist Bluesky rises from the ashes of Artist Twitter like a phoenix burned in the trash fire of Elon Musk's ego, I'll share the longest tweet thread that I ever made.

It's all about my favorite cartoon that I just made up. The title of that cartoon escapes me, though.

26 more screengrabs under the cut!

snip-snip! ✂︎-------------------------------------------

I seem to have already deleted some before I started taking screenshots, but I found one more.

So, there you have it!

This is basically a HUGE content brainstorming session, so of course I had to delete it all off the dead bird site.

Just a reminder, these are not writing prompts. I consider them to be short stories. If I ever want to expand any of these into longer stories, maybe I'll turn a few of these into a comic some day.

Maybe I already did turn one of them into a comic! ;)

[xoxo-ares]

writing prompt: ares the himbo

Aphrodite is talking to Ares. "Y'know, Persephone gives Hades flowers everyday. I wish you'd do that." The next day, Ares goes to the Underworld and gives Hades flowers. "Yeah, I'm not really sure why Aphrodite wanted me to do this, but here you go."

The Hellish realm fell quiet as the sound of a sword being dragged across the floor echoed throughout.

Hades sighed. His nephew always instinctively made his presence known. As the darkened figure reached close, Hades cocked his brow at a familiar scent reaching his nose. ...Persephone?

That's when his face was shoved with flowers, big and beautiful of all kinds. Ares had brought him flowers of every species from all over the world.

The scent had brought in the sensitive spring Goddess as well, who perked her head out the large window above Hades' throne.

"Ares, explain yourself at once." Hades' voice boomed. Perhaps the only creatures that didn't tremble at this very moment in all of his kingdoms were his beautiful wife and moronic nephew. Persephone giggled.

"This is for you, uncle. I present you with flowers that wish to match your wife's beauty. Please accept my gift." He bowed.

"How sweet of you, Ares.' Persephone was certainly enjoying herself. 'My dear, won't you accept his declaration of love?"

"I refuse to take flowers from anyone but the queen of the Underworld. If you wish, gift them to your aunt."

"But- my love asked me to do this! I shall not return till you accept this, uncle." Ares was an adamant knucklehead, so his family knew to inquire further.

"Well, Persephone gives you flowers every day, she wished I'd do the same." The laughter that echoed throughout the darkened world almost made it seem like the divinity of the heavens. Persephone's giggles soothed the ears of the suffering and terrified them after the thunderous laughter of the King of the Underworld followed.

"Why must you laugh at a lover's plight? I am doing what she asks for, is that wrong?" He asked Kore, as she wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Oh my boy, you have much to learn! Hera would be in tears to hear about this!" Persephone wiped a tear and rushed to find his mother.

"Well lad, let me teach you the art of wooing the fairer sex..." Hades started, after taking away the flowers from his hand and placing them on his lap, finally accepting the innocent gift. “Lesson one, Ares: know which goddess you're trying to impress before raiding the gardens of the Earth.”

Ares sat beneath, sitting on one knee, and listened carefully as somewhere above the Goddess of Love sat expectantly, with cheeks flushed; clutching a beautiful sharp dagger that had been gifted to her by her beloved the day before.

[itsawritblr]

Why every story needs some humor.

[illegallyexisting]

First Visit

(To the Geiermann Asylum)

This was an incredibly long project that i started sometime in the midst of January. I hope you all enjoy!!

Sweet, sweet word count: 8,111

The air was strikingly cold with dead trees lining the perimeters of the asylum; in bold gothic letters the front read “The Geiermann Asylum.” The building loomed over them, watching as they walked towards it. The bricks were old and worn with vines and plants entangling them, two large, dark wood doors adorned the top of the crooked steps.

The man that was touring (is that the right word?) them finally broke the silence, “I don’t think this place was touched in a long, long time. My dad just entrusted me to the place, said he got it from an old friend of his and that she wanted to make sure that it would be in safe hands.” They all made it up the creaking stairs and the man opened the door for us; Elliot – a newly adult with a slender build and pumpkin themed sweater on – was first to peak their head through.

“It's very... Dark. And even colder in here then out there!” Her voice echoed slightly from inside the asylum.

“Well, the lights aren’t even on in there yet, though I don’t even know if those work anymore, last they were changed was probably in the ‘60s...” The man gave them a polite smile and ushered them all inside. Inside the asylum was, well, cold, but particularly massive. In front there was a long hallway stretching for who knows how long, on their left was a regular wall with what was a torn-up photo (or perhaps a painting) and table sitting underneath it with a wilted vase of flowers on top. As they walked in further, it was apparent that leading upstairs was a dilapidated staircase on their right, and next to it a staircase leading to another abyss. The man turned on the lights and they came flickering to life, very dimly to say the least.

“I don’t think there's anything else to mention, you’se can all just look around, I’ll be outside walking if you need me.” He gave them another polite smile and left the asylum. Everyone went to their little corners of the entrance way, Vixen to a nearby couch slightly covered by cobwebs, Elliott to the mysterious staircases, Jesse looking at the different paintings and photos (about all of them horribly damaged by time), and Laysha was taking in the entire abandoned asylum. She looked all around, hopping from place to place seeing what her friends were doing, studying all of the entry room. As she was doing so, thoughts popped into her mind, “Who were the people here?” “What were they like?” “What were they here for?” but her thoughts were interrupted.

“Hey, you alright?” It was just Jesse standing next to her now.

“Oh, yes, yes. Say, what if we looked around some more? Obviously, the place is huge, so what if we split into groups of two? We could cover more ground,” She turned around looking at the rest of her friends, “And call each other if anything happens!” Laysha smiled, clapping her hands together thrice to get Vixen and Elliott’s attention. They lifted their heads up from where they were standing (and sitting).

“Alright, so, here’s how this is gonna go. Jesse and Vixen, you two go together and explore the upstairs and me and Elliott will explore down here. Any questions? No, good!” Laysha gave the group a beaming smile as the others left and beckoned Elliott to come to her.

“So, where exactly do we go now? I mean we could go in that weird basement thing-” And Laysha immediately interjected.

“What about just down the hallway and search there? I don’t want to go down there yet, and plus I said that we were gonna explore here.” Elliott tilted his head, but sighed and gave her a reassuring look.

“Alright fine, you lead the way then!”

Laysha laughed and began walking down the hallway, looking at everything in awe. Elliott followed in pursuit, looking around with her. The walls were littered with cobwebs and pictures hung up on the walls, along with the occasional shelf of books or years dead plants. Eventually, they made their way to what seemed to be another corridor but filled with rooms upon rooms, each with small windows – barely enough room to stick your head through – on the sides of the doors and on them. Some doors were open, some stayed shut, as with some of the windows being destroyed. They were both looking down at each side of the hallway with simultaneous confusion and awe, until something caught Elliott’s eye. It seemed to be coming from an open door some ways off, and it looked like someone was staring straight back at him. He squinted his eyes, but just as he noticed the supposed person, they went straight back into the room. He took a few steps back until they accidentally bumped into Laysha.

“Woah, everything all right?”

“I- Well- No. Look, I’m, fairly sure I saw someone, they had like- Shoulder length black hair and they were completely like-” Elliott continued to stumble his way through his words, confusing Laysha that such a person like them could even be stammering this much.

“Alright, just calm down! Maybe it was just a trick of the light? Aren’t you needing to get new glasses soon, too, right?”

He started to calm down, lowering his voice, “Right, you’re right. Trick of the light, or eyes, or something.” They both chuckled lightly and continued as Elliott tried to shake off what he might have seen. Laysha went down the left side of the hallway and Elliott went down the right side, albeit nervous. As Laysha went forward, she looked inside every nook and cranny of the doors, seeing what was in them and what was left there. Practically every room held nothing but multiple, horrifically dirtied bunk beds, the occasional glass on the floor, and spider webs everywhere. There appeared to be nothing more than just the same thing over and over, stretching on for God knows how long. On the right side of the hallway was Elliott, doing the same as Laysha, but looking more carefully and wondering if what they saw wasn’t a trick of the eyes. What if it was someone else? What if it isn’t just the four of them in the asylum? Was it a bad idea? They are already in the asylum, too late to back out now.

Meanwhile, Vixen and Jesse were doing the exact same thing, looking through the rooms. Although eventually they had found a rubber room, it was less a bright white room and more so a grayed and deadened space.

Jesse spoke, making Vixen jump, “You would guess that there would be more, I dunno, things here?”

“Well, these are just normal rooms you would see at a place like this,” They both exited the room, “You think we’re looking in the wrong place?”

“Could be, I guess we’ll have to walk around more and see!” Jesse smiled, giving Vixen a vague sense of reassurance. Jesse started to walk off in another direction, but Vixen stayed back just for a few seconds. He spun and looked around, down the hallways, through other rooms. Then he had a strange feeling, like he was being looked at, stalked. He noticed a slight bluish, colored glow, his mind went on full speed, and he hurled around behind him to see where it was coming from, catching a glimpse of what looked like an eye, but as he turned it was too late. The light disappeared. He shrieked, and immediately ran back over to Jesse, promptly pretending that nothing had happened, but Jesse turned towards Vixen with a mix of confusion and shock on his face.

“Did you just scream?” But he was cut off by Vixen.

“There was something watching me.” Vixen’s voice quiet and he looked petrified, eyes wide and arms close to his body.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, Jesse! I saw some weird light and I turned around, and then it was gone!”

Jesse stopped and fully turned to Vixen, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Look, it was probably just the sun casting by,” Jesse was cut off again.

“Listen to me, it was blue! There is something here with us,” Vixen wasn’t as scared anymore, but now annoyed that his friend won’t listen to him. His voice became more strained, “I don’t know what it was, but I know there was definitely something!”

“Alright, alright, I believe you, just stick close to me for now.” He took his hands off Vixen’s shoulders and nodded his head to follow, and Vixen followed suit.

Downstairs, Laysha, and Elliott found their way out of the twisting hallways and back somewhere near the main entrance. Elliott had gone over to what seemed to be a storage room, investigating whatever could be in there. Laysha had wandered down another, shorter hallway with only a few paintings and photographs lining the left side of the wall and on the right was a dark, wooden door. There was nothing too intriguing about it, but it drew Laysha in; another place to explore! She walked towards the door in effortless steps and opened it up.

Inside the room was an old, dusty wood desk with a chair slid into it- An office, perhaps? The walls were a deep maroon with entirely black floorboards. To the sides of the centered desk were two bookshelves, both partially filled with varying books. On the back wall was a window covered with curtains and underneath it was two strange, square objects both covered in a white sheet. Laysha fully walked in and was hit with a strange aroma, an odd smell of iron. She realized that on the desk layer a large book and she went over to investigate. Opening it up to a random page near the end, she soon discovered that it was all full of names; names of the patients and their reasons for stay. The names read as Ruby Di Amore, Ethel Wisconsin, Sherwood Sappington, Oscar Quinlan, Edwin Forester, Dorothy Falk… The list seemed to stretch on and on. The book seemed to hold upon hundreds of pages as she flipped through, skimming through the names of all these people, at a certain point the names had stopped being written down with the last name being recorded in 1922. She started reading before the last date, but a strange presence irked her, something that told her to look around, be more alert, but she continued and carefully read the names.

Elliott had searched around the storage room but found nothing of interest. Most of the boxes were full of old clothes or straightjackets, trinkets, and other odds, destroyed paintings beyond repair. So, he exited the room in a huff, slightly let down by the unexcited boxes. Instead, they decided to put their focus on the stairways and started towards them. Obviously, there was no way that they could walk up the dilapidated staircase, so why not downwards? He took one look and was met with a curious darkness staring right back at her. She took a deep breath and prepared herself, then took the plunge and started their walk down.

The stairway was long and did not seem to get much brighter, but eventually Elliott made his way to the bottom. He was met with not a destroyed, old basement, but what seemed to be a recreated speakeasy bar, decorated with nice warm colors. A bar was on the left, all stocked with alcoholic beverages and glasses and on the right were booths, accompanied by tables situated throughout the makeshift speakeasy. He took a closer look and led himself through.

Laysha was still listing off names from the patient book. Soaking in all their names, histories, and entries. It was about 2 pages back that she decided to stop and remembered her surroundings. The iron smell, the dull room. She sighed, standing up and scooting out of the chair, only to bump right into someone. She yelped, apologizing, before standing back and looking at the person in front of her.

Who she was met with was a man fully decked in red towering over her. Against his greying hair, he was wearing a stark top hat – almost reaching the ceiling in height – and a frock coat littered with stitched up patterns across his stomach. A silver pocket watch shined against his dark red pants, but Laysha was quickly drawn back up to his face; an annoyed look turned to anger.

“About time,” His deep voice bellowed across the room – what seemed like wisps coming up from his shoulders alighting his face, “What you think you are doing here and why are you here?” The man had a thick French accent, although that should not matter to her right now, she was entirely impressed.

“Oh, me and my friends were just- Uhm, looking around here,” Laysha stumbled over her words, giving out a nervous smile and slowly scooted away from the man before having a late realization, “Wait are you-”

“Friends? There are more?” He watched her carefully as she moved away, charily inspecting her movements.

“Well, yes, there is. There’s four of us, I don’t know where the rest of them are, sir,” She stopped in front of the left bookshelf, glancing around before holding her hand out for a handshake, “I’m Laysha, and you?” She kept her voice as calm and approachable as she could. All he did was turn, look down at her hand, then back up at her, raising a brow.

“Dr. Geiermann,” He rubbed his face and sighed. He glanced around the room in thought, wondering what move to make next, “I cannot bother doing this, I will let Vincent find the rest of you...” He bowed his head whilst mumbling words underneath his breath, before walking forward and disappearing into the wall. Laysha stood there in complete shock. Did she witness a ghost for herself? An actual dead person, standing in front of her? I mean there was no doubt about it, he looked human, but his eyes were black and hollow save for two pink pupils in the middle. And the wisps coming off his shoulders! He was dressed in what could it have been- the Victorian era at least. He did not seem happy to see her at all, or to hear that her friends came along with her, but his name... Dr. Geiermann! Of all the people, could she have just met the past owner?

Back downstairs, Elliott was still in awe. Looking around and studying the place.

He thought aloud, “But how could this even be here? It couldn’t be that old, half of this stuff is new...”

They looked behind the bar and picked up a bottle of whiskey, checking everywhere on it to see if he could find a date. After turning it around quite a few times, she managed to find a due date on the back of it.

January 30th, 2021, that's only a few days away.

Thinking aloud again, she spoke, “Now who in God’s name would have a place like this underneath an asylum of all things and even keep it stocked!”

“Well, well, can’t a few ghosts have a good time as well?” The voice appeared behind her, giggling as she stood completely frozen. A bluish light materialized from behind, complimented with reds and purples. Elliott slowly turned to face the mysterious voice, the liquid quaking in her grasp.

“What, a little chicken-hearted?” She fully turned around, now in front of them was a half-faced man. A grin was spread across his face, his pupils large and glowing behind his red tinted glasses.

Holding his hand out to shake, he spoke once more, “Hello.”

Back up in the second story, Vixen and Jesse stuck close to each other. The grey light shined through the cracked and broken windows of the asylum, lightening the already dim glow of the lightbulbs. Across both hallways, were the same rooms, repeatedly. Holding the same things; bunkbeds, dirtied floors, chipped off walls, and cobwebs. Despite this, they thought that if they still peaked in, there would be something different. Maybe not. At a certain point, the hallway broke off into two once more.

“Do you think it would be worth going down there?” Jesse questioned as he turned his head to his friend.

Vixen tilted his head, shifted a bit then responded in a wary tone, “No, I don’t think it would be worth it. What's to say that it isn’t the same thing again like the time before,”

“True, true.” Jesse responded, but something diverted their attention. In the corner of their eye, they saw a shadow walk by and what sounded like insults being thrown each and every way.

‘Idiot.’

‘Could not bother to stay put.’

‘But he is always like that, isn’t it?’

They kept going until the man passed their view and Jesse went chasing after the man. By the time Vixen even registered what had happened, Jesse turned the corner and was gone.

When Jesse turned, there was no one there, the man was completely gone. He couldn’t hear the person anymore, like he had vanished out of thin air. Vixen came running back up to him, startled and out of breath.

“Jesse, what do you think you’re doing?” He was huffing, trying to catch his breath.

“I was trying to see who that was,”

“Let me guess, they weren’t there anymore?”

“No, they weren’t. All I could make out is that he might have been wearing some sort of, I don’t know, top hat?”

Vixen’s eyes widened and he started to tug on Jesse’s shirt, visibly shaken, “Come on, Jesse, there’s clearly other people here and I don’t know if we should be staying any longer. I swear, there was someone watching me before, and I don’t want to experience that again!”

“Well, what’s to say that the others didn’t see anything, too? Maybe Laysha saw something or someone – this is more her specialty.”

As soon as Jesse finished speaking, both heard a yelp from downstairs. They both looked at each other before agreeing in silence to rush down to see what had happened.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at the first story, and they were met with Elliott, looking entirely disheveled.

Jesse ran up to her, desperately inquiring, “What in the world happened down there, are you okay?”

Elliott took a step back, catching herself and looking at her friend confused, “You only just heard me?”

“What do you mean, were you yelling beforehand?”

“Of course I was! There was this, like, blue light behind me and then someone said something, and I turned around and he was inches away from my face!”

“Alright well who was this he?”

“Why do you think I know?”

“I don’t know, describe him then!”

“He was all in fancy clothes, top hat and all; he even had a cane! I think he was wearing some type of tailcoat?” She paused to catch her breath, trying to run her mind back up to speed with the rest of her body.

Vixen crossed his arms – more so hugging himself, “Great, completely great, this place is actually haunted! What are we supposed to do now?”

Jesse huffed, upset at Vixen’s remark, “We just wait for Laysha, Elliott where exactly is she?”

“I’m fairly sure she went to the office last I was with her,”

“What do you mean ‘last I was with her?”

“Well, we split up to cover more ground on the first floor, but I am fairly certain she did go there. Do we go get her, or?”

“Unless she comes to us herself, we’ll go and find her then.”

Back in the office with Laysha, she was still reeling from her encounter with an actual ghost! How cool is that? She was already tapping away on her phone, writing down what the man looked like and what she thought of him, so she remembered. Now she has to tell her friends. Quickly putting her phone back in her pocket, she rushed outside of the office. She booked it outside only to meet right with her friends, waiting for her. They all looked different degrees of shocked.

She tilted her head, confused, “Did something happen, what’s wrong?”

Jesse was the first to tell her, “Look, all of us are pretty sure this place is haunted, me and Vixen saw some guy walking down the hallway, along with something glowing, watching Vixen, and Jesse had someone right up to their face!”

“Oh, yeah, it is,” She gave Jesse a wide smile, “You just realized that?”

“What do you mean? Did you know that beforehand?”

“Well, not really,” she crossed her arm, holding up her hand to her chin, “I came across one when I was in that office. So, you found more?”

“Yes, we found more!” He was more aggressive in his tone now, very much upset about the fact that she didn’t tell any of that to him sooner.

“Sweet! Where are they?”

“We don’t know, they’re all gone now,” Jesse put his hands on his hip, “How would you suggest we find them? Seems like they’re all spread out around this maze of a place,” He appeared to be more levelheaded now, softening his voice.

Laysha made a quiet “Hm” sound, “What if we just go searching from where they came from? Didn’t Elliott say that they came from the speakeasy, did you respond to the ghost in any way, or did you just run?”

Elliott promptly piped up, “No, I just ran,” He clasped his hands and shuffled in his spot a little bit, “The guy seemed creepy either way.”

Laysha had a bright, encouraging smile on her face, “Well then maybe he’s still there, I say we go check.”

Without giving any of her friends a choice, she hastily made her way down the winding hallways all the way to the makeshift speakeasy.

The entrance to the speakeasy was as dark as ever; like it was sucking in the surrounding light for itself. Laysha swiftly made her way down the stairs, intaking every little detail (about as much as her eyes could let her). The oldened floorboards creaked beneath her shoes until she finally made it down. As she stepped down, she immediately went in a sprint to look for the supposed ghost. She booked it straight towards the bar, looking down behind it but alas, found nothing. Rapidly jumping up and over from the bar, she looked past the nearby corner of the room, but there was still nothing in sight. The entire speakeasy was flat and open and there were no ghosts to be seen.

Laysha sighed and moped to the center of the room, “Well, so much for that.”

“Well, I wouldn’t give up so easily now!”

She jumped and instantly turned around, abruptly met with a man smiling only mere inches from her face. As she turned away, he floated backwards and held his hand out to shake. Laysha shook it and promptly had a horrible, painfully cold sensation going up through her hand and into her arm.

“Hello, hello! The name’s Vincent, Dr. Vincent Geiermann and you are?” He rapidly shook her hand up and down, not even letting go for just a second.

She barely understood what he was saying, sounding like a slur of vowels and breaths strung together and barely pronounced consonants. Laysha quickly pieced together that he was asking what her name is.

Talking with a steady voice, she responded, “Oh, my name is Laysha, Laysha Boyer. Those are my, uh, friends over there.” She gestured with her head and saw Elliott giving her a disapproving shake of the head.

With an unnatural turn of the neck, the doctor stared at her friends with an even wider half-faced grin. They all stared at Dr. Vincent with large eyes. The man was dressed from head to toe in shades of blue and green; save for his circular, bright red glasses and a top hat taking up most of his height. His tailcoat was spread out as he floated, and underneath it seemed to be a tie and a green button-up. Most notable of all was the mask covering the left side of his face.

He floated over to the group, kicking his feet and giggling. Scanning over the group, his cyan pupil began to widen.

“Say, what exactly brought you’se four here?” He turned upside down and proceeded to float over them, “Its a rarity to see anyone that's here and not around to mess up the place or whatnot; but you’se seem like a good bunch!”

The ghost chuckled after finishing his sentence and the group all took turns glancing and nervously looking at each other. Suddenly, he flipped back upwards and twirled his cane, setting it right back on the ground. His legs continued to float as he rested his arms on the cane.

Jesse was the one to pipe up first, “Well, the gist is that we kind of... Hunt ghosts? And we were here to see if there were any to, uh...” He trailed off, still baffled about everything that is occurring.

Elliott finished for him, “We were coming to see if we could buy it and use it as a haunted place attraction.” She was completely unmoving from her spot, letting her monotone voice do all the work. Dr. Vincents eye widened as his smile managed to creep up through his face.

He let out a sinister laugh before responding, “Oh, how lovely, lovely! Also, also, did you happen to see any other ghosts on your little tour?” Dr. Vincent seemed entirely unphased by the whole “buying the asylum” bit and instead indulged in his own conversation.

“I found a ghost in the office-” Laysha was cut off in an instant by the ghost.

“Oh, that was my father, don’t worry about him!” He giggled and joked, not having a care in the world (I guess you wouldn’t if you’d been on Earth for that long).

Vixen made a small gasping noise before questioning, “Wait so you are-”

Dr. Vincent cut him off immediately; already knowing the question and answer, “Yes, yes, second – and last, heir to the throne of the asylum! I thought, I thought I gave it away with the whole introducing myself as doctor and Geiermann, not the brightest of the bunch, eh?”

“Well, I-”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” He appeared over to Vixen in less than a second, “You even lose a bit of that smartness when you’ve been staring at the daisy roots for how long!” He laughed and leaned his head on Vixen’s shoulder until the boy rapidly stammered away from the ghost. Dr. Vincent promptly reappeared back to his original standing point and continued their little conversation.

“So, you’se were saying about possibly buying the place; turn it into those haunted house ‘tractions, yeah? How much we talking here?” Not being able to stay still, he started floating and roaming around the group; making zig zags between them. Patiently (or not so) waiting for a response.

Laysha started walking towards her friends, watching the ghost drift mesmerizingly above, “Well, I think- I guess it would depend on how much you would like it to be.”

She returned to her friend group, but Elliott leaned in and asked her, “Do you not think it would matter more if we asked the guy that owns the place?”

“Well, considering that there are also other people that live here, I think we should ask them too!”

Elliott sighed, not wishing to pursue the conversation, so he let Laysha and Dr. Vincent continue with their bargaining.

She crossed her arms, “Exactly how old is this place?”

The ghost paused, tapping the bottom of his chin with a quizzical look, and making a ‘Hm’ sound. Without warning, a large puff of red smoke appeared right next to Dr. Vincent. As it dissipated, a figure took form and revealed that it was the same ghost from the office; Dr. Geiermann himself.

He spoke in a low, annoyed voice, “One hundred and thirty-seven years old. I thought you would do better, Vincent,” He turned to the group and raised a brow, “You are the others I presume?”

Vincent answered right away for them, “Yes, yes, they’re visitors, visitors!”

“Trespassers, imbécile,” He shot his head over to his son and frowned, “You are seriously giving the asylum away to children?”

Laysha argued, “We are not children! We have a whole job to do, that’s why we want to buy this asylum in the first place!”

“I do not want this place to be the next dernier cri, so do not bother-”

Vincent rapidly flew over to Laysha and held his hand out with a malicious smile, “How does 5 grand sound?”

Dr. Geiermann sputtered and stammered for a second before gathering himself together, but by that time Laysha had made her choice.

“It’s a deal.” She shook his hand and started giggling as his smile grew, unnaturally stretching up to his eye.

“And how! So wonderful, wonderful!”

“No, Vincent, not wonderful,” Dr. Geiermann grabbed his son by the shoulders, moving him away from Laysha. Vincent stared up at his dad with a confused and frankly annoyed expression, “You do know what you are doing, right? You are seriously giving it away that easily? You did not even think!”

“First of all, I thought it all the way through.”

“En cinq secondes, sérieusement?”

“Yes, I know, shocking. I think it would be nice to have more visitors, wouldn’t you say?”

Dr. Geiermann sighed and rolled his eyes, exhausted, “Tu me donnes mal à la tête...”

Vixen leaned into Laysha and whispered to her, “What is he saying?”

“I have no clue,” She replied in a similar subtle tone.

Vincent exclaimed once more as he whipped his head around to the group; his pupils a wide blue, “We have come to an agreement!”

Dr. Geiermann chipped in an immediate, “No we did not,” he scooted his son away and stiffly approached the friends. He stopped just in front of them, staring them down; he finally replied, “If you go through with buying this place, I have rules. You touch not a thing, you change nothing, you add nothing; is this go to be a paid tour?”

Laysha panicked for a moment before responding, “Oh, uh, yes?”

“Then you can put a box next the front entrance. That will be the only thing you add. You will add caution tape to the front of the stairs,” he walked over to the end of the staircase and pointed to the top of it, leading back to the main hall, “None of us want anyone else down here. You tell people, stay together, no one go to upstairs near the main entrance. Only the first and second floors. Do you understand?”

Laysha shook her head in slight confusion, but he had a point, it was his asylum after all, “Alright, we’ll follow your rules.”

Vincent responded an unnecessary and drawn out, “Boring,” he made a yawning motion with his hand. His father shot him a sharp glare, narrowing his eyes, but Vincent did not seem to care nor notice, “So many rules,” He tilted his head backwards to where his father was standing, “You’re a real pill, you know that?”

“And you think of yourself as better?” Dr. Geiermann started walking his way back to the group, looking down at his son, “You were about to let them do qui sait quoi!”

“Oh, boohoo, at least it would’ve brightened the place up a bit,” He stuck his tongue out nonchalantly, “But I’m guessing you wouldn’t want that, eh?” He started giggling at his own joke.

His father rolled his eyes, but took his attention back to the friend group, “So, you understand what you can and cannot do?”

Laysha nodded, “Yes, we do,” she glanced over to her friends with a desperate look in her eyes. The group nodded with murmurs of yes’s and yeah’s.

Dr. Vincent swiftly turned his head up and in an unnatural pattern, he swiftly floated over back to Laysha and shook her hand once more.

“Another deal then!” He rapidly shook her hand up and down before moving onto the rest of the friend group. The ghost swapped his hands, turning them over on one another, almost looking like a pretzel in comparison. Vixen had jumped back slightly at the sheer freezing cold of Dr. Vincent’s hand. Elliott and Jesse just nodded and shook, exchanging distressed looks to each other.

He finally let go, sparing everyone of a frostbitten hand. The ghost ascended upwards, suddenly stopping just before the ceiling and he looked down at the newfound owners in an aplomb pose. Dr. Geiermann watched his son with skepticism and uncertainty.

“So, any more questions or anything for me at all?” Dr. Vincent smiled as he scanned the group. He checked their mannerisms, any minute details. The way they looked; the way they stared in absolute awestruck.

Seemingly with no questions asked, he was just about to continue until Vixen impulsively asked, “What’s with the half a mask?”

The ghost snapped his attention abnormally over to the young man, his smile unwavering. He immediately flitted down to him, only mere inches away from his face, close enough to feel the icy chill. Then he spoke, “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Vixen was astonished and creeped out, the color seemingly draining from his face. His lips quaked, but all the ghost did was chuckle at his sheer fear until it turned into a boisterous laugh, swinging his arm around Vixen, “Oh, I’m just messing with ya!” Dr. Vincent took his arm away from Vixen, still continuing his giggling spree.

Dr. Geiermann looked at his son, his pupils visibly only a slit now, and turned to Vixen, “This is what you will deal with now,” Vixen nodded slowly while giving out a nervous chuckle.

Laysha had been in thought for quite some time, and decided, “If you have rules, then I have some as well,”

“For my own asylum?”

“Yes, actually. First of all, don’t interfere much,” She got cut off in an instant.

“Again, in my own asylum?” The ghost took a menacing step forward, narrowing his eyes.

Laysha confidently continued, “Let me finish, do not interfere much while we are working. Like doing tours and stuff.”

Dr. Vincent floated over to his father with his arms drooping downwards, seemingly sliding over to him without a single real movement, “Didn’t you say that the whole deal of buying this place was to turn into a, y’know, haunted tour?”

“I mean, yes, obviously, then there would be no fun! But just maybe keep the whole...” Laysha trailed off, trying to think of the correct words to use to not make anyone upset, “Everything to a minimum.”

“By everything do you mean him?” Dr. Geiermann nodded his head towards his son, and he seemed entirely unfazed about the fact they were now talking about him. He was just fiddling with his gloves.

Laysha nodded slowly in agreement, “Yes, and whoever else is here in the asylum, like the past patients, I’m assuming.”

“I saw someone staring me down in one of the hallways thirty or so minutes ago,” Elliott piped up from the midst of the group, walking forward slightly, “Was that one of them or?”

The ghosts both promptly answered, “Ruth,” Dr. Vincent snapped his head up and Dr. Geiermann stood taut as he stared at Elliott. Dr. Geiermann spoke normally, “Do not worry about her, she just likes staring on occasion.”

“Not like she can do much either way with how balled up she normally is!” Dr. Vincent started to shake in laughter, nudging his dad by the side with his elbow to see if he thought his, quite frankly, mean-spirited joke was. All Dr. Geiermann did was look down at him, and stare at him with completely dead eyes and no sign nor even a flinch of joy within this man.

“Well alright then,” Dr. Vincent rolled his eyes and gave out a dramatic sigh.

Laysha continued her list of rules, ignoring (well doing her best to ignore) what happened, “Do not fiddle with the money box and...” Now she completely forgot what she was going to say. Laysha frantically darted her eyes to her friends, hoping they could at least think of something to help her with ground rules or anything!

Jesse had stepped up to help Laysha, and spoke for her, “How about no picking up objects, so it isn’t too obvious that you guys are actually there,”

“Oh, and no making too much noise.”

Dr. Vincent tilted his head, “Exactly what counts as too much noise?”

Geiermann added on, “Can I even be allowed a walk?”

“Well, yes, obviously! Just don’t go around causing a ruckus,” Laysha quickly rebutted, “Like smashing stuff or arguing to each other.”

The ghost made a snide remark to his son, “Do you hear that, Vincent?”

“Yeah, did you?” He snapped back, crossing his arms in defiance, “With how much of a bluenose you already are, I never woulda’ thunk you do anything to begin with!”

“How many idiotic insults will you make until you stop your wake snakes spree?”

“Till the death of the universe, dearest father!” He leaned up close to Dr. Geiermann’s shoulder before breaking down in a laughing fit from how funny he thought he was.

“You are a complete lunkhead!” Dr. Geiermann shoved his son away from him.

The friend group simply watched on as the two ghosts started to go back and forth with each other. They kept spouting out different insults, annoying and taunting one another. Getting louder and louder, Dr. Vincent started shouting out profanities now, and he started getting physical. He shoved and poked his father, his gestures becoming increasingly varied and wild. Dr. Geiermann only stood his ground and continued to verbally reprimand his son.

“Well, you never close your head, so that’s on you!” Dr. Vincent blurted out.

Dr. Geiermann defiantly acquitted himself, “On me? C’est vous qui ne vous taisez jamais!”

“Est-ce que je ne me tais jamais ? C’est parce que vous ne vous taisez jamais et que vous vous plaignez toujours!” Dr. Vincent quickly snapped back at him over and over, now very rarely even giving his father a chance to react.

Laysha shuffled backwards to her friends and whispered, “Still don’t understand what they’re saying?”

Vixen mumbled back a measly, “Nope.”

The argument had now become a full on shouting match. The ghosts were screaming at each other, and so loud that Elliott noticed something just out of the corner of her eye. She leaned over to see up the stairs and saw three other ghosts staring down at them; two to the right and one to the left. Elliott immediately recognized one of the ghosts coming from the right- Ruth. The one that was staring him down at the hallway, but the other two he had no clue of.

The shorter one, seemingly only a child, was of a magenta hue. Her hair was shaped almost like a bowl cut, and she was wearing an oversized simple dress. From what he could see, random dark splotches dotted her arms. The ghost to the left had his entire head covered in bandages. His was of a tan and blue colors, sporting a simple t-shirt and pants. Although, when Elliott looked closer, she noticed that his head was floating instead if being attached to any neck. Elliott nudged Laysha by the shoulder, tilting and gesturing with their head to look up towards the stairs. As she did, her eyes widened in realization.

“Visitors?” Laysha said a bit too loudly for her liking.

Dr. Geiermann and Dr. Vincent shot their heads over to the friends, then turning their attention too the staring ghosts upstairs.

Without missing a beat, Dr. Vincent’s face grew in anger, and he flew to the end of the stairs and yelled, “SCRAM!”

They all disappeared in an instant, although the child lingered for slightly longer before slowly moving out of view. Dr. Vincent put back his façade as soon as they left, and calmly floated back down in front of the group. Dr. Geiermann still looked like he was fuming from the argument but didn’t want to engage any more than he had to.

“So, what were we discussing again?” Quizzed Dr. Vincent.

The group was still visibly reeling from the shouting match, all of them having wide eyes. But Laysha once again took hold of the answer.

“We were, uh, talking about rules… But I think that was it, right guys?” She looked back and forth between her friends with a desperate look in her face and a nervous smile. All four of them nodded and gave different variations of yes; yup’s, yeah’s, and ‘mhm’ littered the air.

“And how! That was a lovely conversation- though excuse my father for the disturbance.” Dr. Vincent pointed back to his dad as he was about to blow a fuse.

Instead, Dr. Geiermann angerly stated, “You know what? No!” And just in a flash, he disappeared into a cloud of smoke.

“Well thankfully, he’s gone now, so we have nothing to worry about!” He chuckled mid-sentence before calming back down, resting to his unnatural grin. He floated over in front of the group and rapidly looked between them.

“So, anything else you’se guy’s wanna know? Any other questions?” He was currently floating upside down now, putting his cane horizontally up to his chest and spinning it, waiting for any response.

Laysha spoke up in an instant, “How long did you run this place? When did you start working here?”

Dr. Vincent started giggling, “Oh, sometime after my father had died! I only lasted about 20 years before I kicked the bucket, but it happens to the best of us,” He tossed and turned in a fit of laughter. Smiling maniacally, he continued on, “And it paid some good clams from my last job as well! But that’s all.”

“Oh, thank you for the insight then.”

Dr. Vincent shook her hand rapidly, again sending multiple waves of freezing shock up in her arms, “Of course, of course!”

She nodded and pulled away from him as soon as he let go, “So, that was all we needed, actually.”

“Oh, seriously? Well, thank you for stopping by,” He seemed to switch tones, seemingly threatening, “Better get the money here soon.”

Laysha chuckled nervously, “Yup.”

He swiftly floated over to the end of the staircase and beckoned the group to follow him. They all promptly followed him back up the stairs. He started talking as they walked up the stairs, but most of the conversation was filled with his giggling and vaguely audible sentences. The friends just nodded along with him as they went along, not understanding his fast pace. After the trek upstairs, they said their goodbyes to each other.

“I’ll make sure that this place is in tip top shape when you come back to check in in a week,” Dr. Vincent floated upright (finally), “Certainly a pleasant time meeting you’se four!”

“And to you as well-” Before Laysha could finish, he grabbed her hand and shook it for the umpteenth time.

“Well, goodbye, goodbye. Have a wonderful day!” He cheerfully exclaimed.

The group, one by one, exited the asylum, but were stopped for a few seconds to receive Dr. Vincent’s chilling shake. They all left down the steps, and he yelled to them, “Au revoir!” before he slammed the door without giving them a second to respond.

After they had left, they all joked about what had happened. The strange asylum, the eccentric ghost and his father (among the others they didn’t even get to meet).

“How many others do you bet were in there?” Jesse larked.

“Do you see how big that place is?” Elliott gestured to the massive asylum, “There has to be at least two-hundred ghosts.”

“Two hundred, seriously?”

Laysha laughed at their antics, deciding to walk around the asylum for a bit. She stared at the cracked bricks, littered with vines and plants. The entire building seemed to be taken back by nature now that she looked at it. She carried on walking to the right of the building, breathing in every detail, but she still wished that she questioned them more. What’s the history of this place? What about the ghosts that were sentenced to the asylum? Drowning in her thoughts, she made her way to one end of the building and peeking out from around the corner seemed to be a cemetery. Laysha tilted her head, above it read “The Geiermann Cemetery.” Could it have been for the past patients? Vixen interrupted her thoughts by appearing behind her, tapping her on the shoulder and giving her a bit of a scare.

“What are you doing over here?” Vixen quizzed.

“Just wanted to walk around the place, what about you?”

“We were looking for you,” He chuckled lightly, “Isn’t the guy supposed to pick us back up soon?”

“Oh, right, right! I completely forgot,” She glanced over back to the cemetery.

“What are you staring at?” Vixen leaned over to see what she was looking at.

“I don’t know, must have been an old graveyard or cemetery thing to keep the past patients. I mean, you heard what Elliott said,” Laysha gave him a polite smile, “About time we get going, I don’t want Jesse gnawing at my throat for being late.”

Vixen laughed and they went on their way.

They walked back, greeted their friends but Laysha had not told them about what she saw, and Vixen already seemingly forgot. After about a minute or so, the man arrived to pick them back up. He asked how they liked the place and if anything happened, but they had a silent agreement not to say anything about the ghosts just yet. They just joked about certain things that had happened (or changed them for the story) and went on with their lives. Laysha had told the man that she would like to buy it for the five thousand agreed before. He expressed a bit of shock but complied. They arrived back at the car and said their goodbyes to the man and drove off, discussing what to do next.

Epilogue…

Around 2 hours later...

Dr. Geiermann was looking outside a window on the far right of the asylum. The sun had started to set, and lay harsh shadows against the dead forest. Leaves were brushing around in the wind, dancing and swirling until the gushing wind had stopped. The sun was bright as it sunk down past the Earth from his view. No one else was roaming the hallways and no other sounds were being made. He was all alone with his thoughts. Up until a blue flume of smoke appeared behind him, and a familiar tricolor glow was seen. Dr. Geiermann let out an annoyed sigh before turning to look at his son.

“Have you come to apologize yet?” His face grew dark.

“For what?”

Dr. Geiermann groaned before responding, “Never mind.”

His son giggled and promptly rested his arm on his father’s shoulder, “But that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

His father turned back around to the window, “What do you want of me, Vincent?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing! Just about those kids. So when they come back around and buy the place, who’s gonna look out for the tourists?”

“What exactly are you to get at here? Such as…” Dr. Geiermann trailed off, flitting and turning his hand about to get the right words, “Vous cherchez les touristes pour qu’ils ne nous voient pas?”

“Exactly!” Dr. Vincent snapped his fingers and moved his head away. He started floating around, tapping his finger on his chin, wondering, “So, who exactly do you think would be good for that?”

“Why are you asking me?” His son cut him off in a flash.

“Of course, you would be perfect, perfect! Thank you, thank you!” He gave his father a swift hug, and just as he appeared, he was gone once more.

Dr. Geiermann was left there to ponder what had just happened to him (again) and question what his son had gotten them all into. All he could for now, is stare back out into the now nightly dark woods, and wait until next week.

[angelosearch]

First fic I've posted since Chaos Theory and it is super silly. But short humorous fics are always good for getting me pumped for the other stuff!

[ozma914]

Mother Nature Has Been Grumpy

 Is it just me, or has Mother Nature been, this year ... grouchy?

Surly? Cross? Cantankerous?

Yeah, I thought so, too. Maybe we brought it on ourselves, the way everyone has been storming at each other. That makes this a perfect time for a ... song.

Hey, we all need a peaceful moment. It's been a particularly awful weather year; for some more than others, but mostly for everyone. The other day I had to stop picking up wind-blown branches because of frostbite. (I shut off our furnace exactly two days before the--wait for it--polar vortex reached us.)

It's not a great song, but I'm not a great song writer. I heard the music in my head while writing the words (It has a country vibe). But I can't play it for you because I can't write music, and it probably won't work as well as a poem. Maybe it's for the best, though, because I'm also not a great music writer. Or ... any music writer. What the heck, I'll throw in a few photos from the storm outbreak, too. Once it got cold, my hands wouldn't stop shaking enough to get a good picture.

See those little black spots in the sky? Birds. Really dumb vultures, I think, battling a headwind.

I should hold a contest: If I sell fifty books by the end of June, I'll post a video of me singing this. But that might lead to negative sales. "For Heaven's sake, don't sing! I'm sending your books back to you." I call it: Springing Out of Springdom. (I'm not a great title writer, either.)

I like to ride in the countryside just to take in spring. The flower blossoms, birds at play and all the greening things. But this year I've come to realize something that's made me sad. We won't get a spring this year 'cause we've all been too bad. Yeah, we've all been too bad this year, we just can't get along. We fight and fuss and disagree Even as the days get long. Mother Nature said "Screw you!" "I'll just evaporate." So winter just won't end this year; she left us to our fate. So now the temp's below average just like all our moods. Plants are brown and grass is dead, let's face it--we're all screwed. Our tulips won't come up this year, They're underneath a drift. The robins are hitchhiking south, their frozen wings won't lift.

Yes, we've all been too bad this year, we don't deserve the spring. Mosquitoes can't come out in this, it's frostbite that'll sting. Mother Nature said "Stuff it!" and left us all to freeze. so winter just won't end this year, no flowers, birds, or bees. So let's all try to get along, we just don't have to fight. At this rate our nice summer will become a year long night. It's not that we all must be friends, but hatred hurts our souls. If we don't make up by Christmas At least we can heat with coals. True, we've all been too bad this year, and spring will never come if we don't get our butts in gear and stop being so dumb. Mother nature said "I'm done!" and winter's staying strong. So dig back out your salt and plows ... or try to get along.

As long as the internet hasn't blown away, we can be found all over:

·        Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

·        Barnes & Noble:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

·        Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4898846.Mark_R_Hunter

·        Blog: https://markrhunter.blogspot.com/

·        Website: http://www.markrhunter.com/

·        Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ozma914/

·        Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarkRHunter914

·        Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/markrhunter/

·        Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarkRHunter

·        Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@MarkRHunter

·        Substack:  https://substack.com/@markrhunter

·        Tumblr:  https://www.tumblr.com/ozma914

·        Smashwords:  https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ozma914

·        Audible: https://www.audible.com/search?searchAuthor=Mark+R.+Hunter&ref_pageloadid=4C1TS2KZGoOjloaJ&pf

Remember: Books can be taken with you into a storm shelter.

[clairethecutepup]

Tykes at Heart: Getting Your Goat (Ch. 1)

Episode Synopsis: Cio decides to save costs by making his own ingredients. However, things go awry when his “milk goat” is instead a male goat-- and a rowdy one at that! Can Claire, Leena and Sparky help him tame or remove the unruly beast; or will his attempts at reducing costs end up costing him everything?

Chapter Summary:

Cio orders a new goat for the proper milk that his pizza’s cheese will need; unfortunately, the little nuisance is more keen on creating mayhem instead…

[Chapter Title: Literally (and Regretfully) So… ]

Within one of Wolfuchs’ many apartments, the term “sleepy” takes a literal meaning: Leena lies back and continues her sitting position’s nap, while the smaller Claire peacefully dozes off and with Leena’s lap making for a soothing pillow. Normally, Claire didn’t like sleeping outside of the nighttime, but Leena managed to get her cozy enough through some TV entertainment. It was the only thing making a sound currently-- aside from the beeping smoke detector!

Sparky, finishing his schoolwork, removes his headphones: a device made for those with more animalistic ears, thanks to their triangular shape. When his canine ears pick up on the loud beeping, he shoots up from his desk. He throws out a quick, “What the--?!” and then goes to investigate. Fleeing from his shared bedroom, he surveys the smoke emitting from the oven; meanwhile, Leena and Claire start to slowly stir from the excessive sound.

“Leena, what’s going on?!” the boy demands, “Why’s the oven doing that?!”

Leena looks over the couch, Claire doing similar; however, the latter is clearly more terrified at what’s happening. Leena, on the other hand, takes a moment to analyze the metallic square.

“Hmmm… Probably because something is burning!” she concludes proudly, before her eyes snap open in horror, “SOMETHING IS BURNING!!”

Sparky grabs the nearest fire extinguisher and turns the oven off, preparing himself to face any flames that could escape the door’s cracks. Fortunately, only smoke ever seeps out into the kitchen. Sparky lets out a sigh, seeing the threat of a fire pass and thus setting the extinguisher down. He examines the oven’s window, then decides it’s safe enough to retrieve the poor item in question: the lasagna.

“Leena…” he faces her, “You promised to watch it for me…” he then looks at their friend, “Claire, you really should be paying attention, too…”

Claire’s wolf ears droop and her eyes display sorrowful shame, while Leena is also remorseful but less heartbroken.

“Awww, I am sorry, Sparky…” Leena explains, “My little buddy and I just got too comfortable…”

“Well, I’m glad you’re both able to relax together,” Sparky replies, “but we shouldn’t burn the entire place down…”

“I think the oven could only take down our apartment, Sparky, as that is where it is.”

“... Let’s just avoid fires altogether, alright, Leena…?” Sparky sets the burnt tray onto the table, “Anyway, it looks like we won’t be eating as soon as we thought… Maybe we could find something else to make.”

"Oh, I know!" Leena raises her hand, "Let us have ice cream for lunch!"

"Leena, that's something better for dessert..."

"If they can have breakfast for lunch, as that 'brunch' thing, then you can have dessert for lunch, too. We can call it, 'dessunch.'"

"No, we should have a proper meal, Leena. I don't think our parents would be happy if we just ate sweets," Sparky looks at Claire, "I don't think anyone in her home would be too happy about just giving her sugar, either..."

"We can shred carrots for sprinkles," Leena points to the fridge, "or we can use olives for cherries. They are vegetables, which are good for you, right?"

Claire thinks about how that'd actually be, causing the pup's face to display disgust and tilt her canine ears in complete repulse. Sparky didn't seem too interested himself, even gagging a little into his balled up paw from the imagined combination of sweetened dairy and bitter vegetation. The idea of Leena also adding caramel or chocolate, perhaps both, further disgusted the boy.

"No Leena, let's settle for something better-- and not just health-wise," he finally speaks, "I'm sure I can find something else around here..."

"Oh, I know!" Leena raises her hand again, "It can still involve milk, but as cheese! And, that 'cheese' shall go great with sauce and other stuff."

Sparky takes a moment to process what she means, before he develops a more agreeing smile.

"Do you mean 'pizza,' Leena?"

Claire perks up at the idea herself, wondering if Leena means a certain kind of pizza...

"Not just any pizza, Sparky," his sister continues, "the best kind of pizza ever: Cio's pizza!"

Claire wags her tail, always happy to try some of her best pal's famous (or is so amongst themselves) dish! Sparky seems hesitant, however...

"Leena, we don't really have much spending money right now..." he sighs, "I don't really like getting his food for free, just because we're friends..."

"Please, Sparky?" Leena clasps her hands together, "It is so good, and we do not have food anymore," she then holds Claire before him, "See? Our little buddy also likes to eat it, too."

Claire awkwardly moves her eyes around, unsure how she feels about being used as "leverage" (she thinks that's the right word?); however, she would like some of Cio's pizza.

Sparky does a final glance-over of the kitchen, before deciding that it really was ice cream or pizza… And there's absolutely no chance he's giving Leena the opportunity and excuse to try that "healthier ice cream" idea!!

"Alright," the boy sighs, "but we need to start a proper tab with him..."

Leena cheers a, "Hooray!" and accidentally throws Claire into the ceiling, despite meaning to instead just raise her fists victoriously. Sparky cries the typical, "Leena!!" and holds his head. Luckily, Leena catches her smaller friend, after Claire slowly peels off the upper plaster. The pup's eyes spin around, as her head tries recovering from the possible concussion. Leena and Sparky lean toward her, before Claire shakes herself back into reality and confusedly stares at the two.

Sparky finishes, "Just make sure to be more careful with her on the way, alright?"

********

Eventually, the trio make it to their destination: Zampa Pie. After all, "Why have a pizza pie, when you can have a zampa pie?" the motto went. The orange, rectangular building greets them with its green banner and red lettering. Leena, carrying Claire on her shoulders, excitedly sprints toward the building-- until Sparky grabs her sides.

"Leena, don't make her hit something again!"

A wide-eyed Claire perked her ears back, coming this close to Leena slamming her forehead against the building.

"Whoops, sorry, Little Buddy..."

Leena sets Claire onto her feet, before they all head inside. The dining area seemed right in place with the 1950's: stools along the service counter, booths as the alternative sitting areas, tiled flooring-- even a jukebox! Of course, the music-player was built by Cio himself, evident by its resemblance to a gray fox.

It's not Cio himself they immediately encounter, but the staff formed by the Kitsumairu Triplets: Suru, Kage and Ryuketsu. The sole sister stands behind the counter, as Suru sweeps and Ryuketsu wipes some windows. Cio could've always gone fully automated, thanks to his mind, but he always felt it wrong to have artificial help where humans could do just as well. The triplets naturally notice three of his best customers (and pals).

Kage waves, "Hi, guys!"

Suru stands his broom beside himself, as Ryuketsu turns from the large window.

Suru adds, "Hey, guys!"

Ryuketsu yawns, "Hey..."

"Hi, everyone!" Leena grins back, "We are here to eat and possibly say, 'Hi,' to Cio also."

"Okay," Suru sets the broom aside, "I'll go get him!"

He walks off to inform the mentioned man, as the arriving trio take a seat in a window booth: Leena and Claire together, Sparky alone. But Sparky is soon accompanied by Cio himself, and Faxie as well. After all, wherever Cio went, his robotic pet wasn't too far behind. Right in the front pocket of Cio's overalls, the little combination of feline and fox sat.

"Hey guys," Cio greets, "good to see ya."

Faxie yips in agreement.

"So, how's your guys' day been so far?" Cio asks, "It's been pretty slow around here, but we're fine with having a day like that every now and then."

"It has been good so far," Leena grins, "except for the part where the oven had almost burned down our apartment."

"Oh, uh... It's good that it didn't."

Honestly, Cio isn't sure if he should be surprised about disaster appearing wherever Leena is-- well-meaning as she is --but he still wears a worried and shocked expression nonetheless.

"... Anyway," Sparky shifts his eyes between Leena and Cio, "is there anything else you'd like to share about today, other than it apparently being slow...?"

Perhaps Sparky is a little too hopeful, but he prefers not to dwell on near-housefires. Luckily for him, Cio does have more to share.

“Well, I’m starting a new business plan,” Cio explains, “I’m trying out making my own ingredients. I’ll probably even be able to sell my pizza as ‘organic,’ if I’m able to meet all the standards and regulations. That’ll probably increase sales since lots of people like to eat that kind of stuff,” he develops a more mischievous smile, “Of course, I can also use that as an excuse to charge a little extra-- on top of saving money because I’m making my own things, too,” he then holds his chin, “Maybe I could even sell some ingredients on their own… We do like cheese around here, and milk’s not bad either.”

Leena asks, “Are you getting a cow?”

"Nope," Cio replies, "I'm getting a goat instead."

Claire liked the sound of that. She's not opposed to cows nor anything of the sort, but goats held more of a charm: their furrier nature, they practically looked like horned and hoofed dogs, and there was some strong appeal in their little "baaa's." It also amused Claire to hear them make the sound without visibly moving their lips.

Sparky sighs, "A goat does sound safer..."

The last thing he needed to worry about: his sister getting herself bucked by mighty hooves or-- Heaven forbid! --jabbed by such large, sharp horns... Sure, a goat could still ram or buck you, but nothing as damaging as what a cow can do. The sound and sight of a truck outside got everyone's attention: "Tom's Transports," it read.

"That must be it!" Cio grins, "Come on, guys, let's go get her..."

After signing for the item, Cio excitedly awaited his-- holy crap, what kind of goat did he order?! The poor deliveryman fearfully pushed the crate like he expected it to explode, and Cio couldn't blame him... It was already shaking and making an inner ruckus like it was imminent. The man then quickly runs back to his truck and takes off, leaving Cio and his three friends to watch the shaking and loud crate.

Claire and Sparky both hide behind a frowning Leena, as Cio continues his wide-eyed stare and Faxie trembles in his front overall pocket. Before anything else can be done or said, the gray caprine rams her head through the top and snorts at the opposing group.

"Uh, hi, Buddy..." Cio grins and waves, "I-I know you're probably nerv--"

He runs and screams, after the retracting goat bursts from the side and gives chase.

Leena gasps, "We must save Cio!"

None of the Kitsumairu triplets knew what to make of their boss screaming past nor the pursuing beast. Cio managed to reach the "backyard" of his building and the rest of his quartet followed him outside. Then, the sound of chaos and screaming could be heard, prompting the triplets to share a concerned glance and run outside to help.

[End Chapter 1]

[wardsutton]

Many thanks to the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop for naming me Humor Writer of the month. I'm honored! My mother, who died in 2019, was a big Erma Bombeck fan and had a number of her books, including this one, signed. She would have gotten a real kick out of this news.

[marblesmind]

Why is writing in a comedic style so embarrassing like oh look I’m saying words haha I really hope they’re funny or else I’m gonna cry and my head will implode in on itself.

[grayintogreen]

I really have to say that in the wake of the quip post going around and me rewatching LOST, there is really nothing funnier than a scene that isn’t supposed to be funny, isn’t even set up to be funny, but through the absolute absurdity of the situation is hilarious. To wit, there is humor in playing an absurd scene completely straight without trying to draw attention to how absurd it is.

To use LOST as an example, there’s a scene where two characters meet on an abandoned ship in the jungle (which is funny on its own) that goes like this:

In one corner we have John Locke, currently playing with a knife while the guy he manipulated into coming into the jungle with him on a convoluted quest to get HIM to kill their mutual abuser because he couldn’t do it himself is banging on the door to the brig because Locke is allergic to explaining things as all the island mystics tend to be.

In the other corner, entering the scene, we have Danielle Rousseau, local island crazy lady that everyone has accepted as just a staple of the experience and is deemed an Ally despite the fact that she doesn’t join their group, lives on her own, and has death traps strewn throughout the jungle that are just commonly referenced as a thing that happens.

The two of them regard each other. “Rousseau.” “Locke.”

(And now it’s already funny to the Philosophy Major crowd but wait there’s more.)

Rousseau looks at the door where there’s still shouting and banging. Locke doesn’t explain anything. “What brings you to the ship?”

(Keep in mind that Rousseau is the one who showed the survivors the ship and makes frequent trips to it. LOCKE is the one acting weird. Locke has decided that the only way to make this situation Not Awkward is to just roll with it. He is legitimately Bavarian Fire Drilling his way out of what would CONCERN MOST PEOPLE.)

But here’s where it gets funny.

“I’m here for the dynamite.”

Okay. So you have one person who has locked someone in the brig for some reason and another person who is known to be EXTREMELY HAZARDOUS to the health and safety of others because of her death traps going “I need dynamite” and none of this sounds like sane reasonable behavior and the punchline is just both of them staring at each other and NOT QUESTIONING ANY OF IT. Rousseau walks out with a box of dynamite, Locke continues to wait for a murder to occur.

THAT is funny. That is humor that requires insight into the characters, the situation, and how none of the steps taken are the steps you’d expect. Humor doesn’t have to rely on zingers and meme worthy lines- it requires you to be able to take a completely absurd situation and play it absolutely straight. No irony poisoning and SEE WE KNOW THIS IS STUPID will ever compare to watching two characters just completely refuse to react to something weird or even treat it as anything other than normal behavior.

[c-show]

Read the rest of my newest short story at Flash Fiction Magazine!

[enchantingepics]

Story Prompt 20

In a bustling city where the rhythm of life played out in neon lights and busy streets, there existed a haven known only to those who stumbled upon it. Hidden amidst the concrete jungle, it was a place where the energy pulsated with an intensity that could only be described as illicitly good.

As the sun dipped below the skyline, casting an orange hue over the city, a door beckoned to the curious. Behind it lay an underground club, a realm of euphoria where laughter and beats intertwined seamlessly. The atmosphere inside was a magnetic force, drawing in people from all walks of life who sought refuge from the monotony of the everyday.

The music, a fusion of genres that defied categorization, was a siren's call, luring in those hungry for an escape. The dance floor was a canvas of movement, bodies swaying with the intoxicating melodies. No judgments lingered in the air; it was a space where the weight of the world seemed to lift, and joy became the only currency.

Amidst the crowd, souls converged, connected by the shared desire to immerse themselves in this forbidden bliss. A group of friends found themselves at the heart of the revelry, strangers becoming allies in the pursuit of this elusive utopia. Conversations flowed effortlessly, tales of mundane existence left at the entrance.

The ambiance was heightened by the subtle glow of hidden lights, casting shadows that whispered tales of liberation and unity. Each moment felt like a stolen fragment of time, an indulgence in the sheer pleasure of existence. It was as if the very essence of joy had materialized and taken residence in this sanctuary.

As the night progressed, an unspoken understanding permeated the air - a collective agreement to keep this affair a well-guarded secret. The patrons, bound by an oath, departed at dawn, carrying with them the residue of an experience that defied the constraints of legality.

And so, the haven persisted, an oasis of euphoria in a world that often forgot the power of joy. In the heart of the city, where conformity reigned supreme, this hidden gem thrived.

[imbadatparking]

THERE'S A CLOWN LIVING IN THE SHED IN MY BACKYARD.

I have a confession to make.

There is a clown living in the shed in my backyard.

The moment I saw him, I knew immediately. His inconveniently crooked face creates a sight one would look away from. It was as if God was drunk when he created him. His eyes are misaligned, usually droopy and red-rimmed. He looks either always exhausted or always high – most days, I can’t tell. When he speaks, he only insults. He says words that don’t hurt as bad as they would coming from somebody else, but only because I know him, and only because we have a sort of understanding. A twisted, strange understanding, but an understanding nonetheless. He doesn’t have a red nose, but his colorful mismatched clothing can only be described as clown attire. He never comes inside unless everyone else is away, his antisocial nature creating even more distance between him and us.

Most days, that’s what it feels like. Him and us.

He’s been there for a while, his company once unwanted and uncomfortable, now something almost endearing. I can hear him at night sometimes – I'll be moments before a blissful sleep when I hear the familiar sound of the backdoor being dragged open. I know it’s him because we have a shut fence that keeps everything in and out and there’s no other way or reason for it to be anyone or anything else. I hear his dragging footsteps across the tile, like the ominous buildup to a bad horror movie. It could work too: it’s one in the morning and, aside from the step-drag, step-drag, the house has been filled with the still kind of silence. Nobody is awake at these hours, except for me and the clown. The clown who, in another universe, would be carrying a knife and waiting to rip the soul from my body. The clown who, in another universe, is a combination of grease makeup and fake blood. In this universe, he is exactly as he is. A clown who is too consumed by his own self to be worried about anyone else.

Step-drag, step-drag.

Rubber scrapes across the kitchen floor as the fridge opens. There’s the rustle of someone looking around for a moment, the water running, and a whispered curse. His voice tilts a bit in an awkward way, voice cracking as if he’s gone through puberty a decade too late. This is all familiar. One day, he’ll figure out that we don’t have food in the house and we probably never will, but for today, he walks back to where he came from.

In the slits of the blinds, his silhouette is distorted and cut into pieces. I watch as he walks back to the shed, long weeds and overgrown grass pulling at his leg as if they’re begging for mercy. He is a faceless, unbiased form. He almost looks like a normal human.

He slams the door of the shed, not bothering to try and keep quiet now that his journey has been unsuccessful. I watch, on alert for only another moment now before I ease back against my pillow. Now that he’s come out, I won’t see him for another few weeks. His presence is like a shy ghost, appearing only when willing and leaving without a trace.

I have a clown living in the shed in my backyard.

He is my brother.

[internetminestrone]

"sell that?" the villain said incredulously.

"yes! you could make so much more money from your inventions than from whatever this is" the hero said gesturing around to the people cowering in fear outside the smashed bank vault door.

"you're kidding me." said villain shaking her head.

"no! no the army -"

"I sell to the army already." she replied, lowering her freeze ray to dig in her utility belt for something.

"...what? well - why not the nav-" the hero sputtered, his eyes blinked rapidly as his eyes shifted around - trying to gain purchase on something he could use as a good rebuttal. Clearly this de-escalation tactic from the Hero's Guidebook volume 3 needed to be revised. He'd need to send a sternly worded email to the authors again.

"and I sell to the navy, and the air force, and the marines, and the coast guard, and I am now the primary contract holder for the space force. And that's just around here - don't get me started on everywhere else, I'd need to break out my spreadsheets."

"sorry - I, what?" If his blond eyebrows crept up any further, they'd be on the ceiling.

"you're speechless." said the villain, finally looking up at him with a crooked grin and a twinkle in her eye as she tossed him a crumpled up piece of paper. "never thought I'd see the day."

"Triplet City Banks'...insurance policy?" the hero read aloud as he skimmed the lengthy document with such tiny font it was pretty much illegible. The hero's signature blond curl seemed to flatten as he looked back up at her, bright white teeth chewing at his bottom lip.

"Oh FantastaMan, to think I was once worried you would be too "fantasta" for me to handle. Nearly had me quaking in my boots!" The villain laughed as she pressed a button on her glove that made little robots jump out of her satchel and begin tossing money into the canvas laundry bags that were on the ground. "

"But it is I that must handle-" he said getting to his feet and striking a heroic pose - ready to monologue.

"Bullshit" the villain cut in, stepping around him to unlock some of the safety deposit boxes with her laser key. "I must say, I liked this - what we had. I come to the bank, you show up, you try to to stop me, I show off new products, you fight back, you monologue a bit, i leave with a bang, I go home turn on the tv watch the playback - and badda bing badda boom - my email is hotter than a ghost pepper with all the orders that start flowing in. Very good business model - and fun!"

"And fun?!" he says, his glow of superhero positivity dims and his blue eyes seem to lose their usual righteous sparkle.

"Oh yes." she said, as she finishes sweeping the contents of the security boxes into her own canvas bag and zipping it closed. "My nana always wanted me to be on tv, plus it's great exercise and I get to glam up - on a weekday no less!" she gestures to her outfit "I feel a bit like a drag queen, you know The Henhouse? The drag bar on 8th? They helped me put together the look, ugh I owe those girls the world!"

"The world?!"

"Yes! Which is why I'm taking them all on a cruise next month, ugh it's a surprise though so don't say anything? okay?" her eyes plead with him for just a moment before she shakes it off. "who am I kidding you've never been to The Henhouse!" she snorts. "missing out!"

The robots chortle in the background and begin lugging all the bags out of the vault and towards the back exit. She looks around for a moment satisfied, before turning to leave as well.

"You're...you're robbing banks to send drag queens on a cruise! That's completely evil!"

The villain stops dead in her tracks and turns to face the hero again, and regards him flatly. "Didn't take you for such a staunch conservative wearing that much neon spandex in the daylight."

His eyes grow wide, but then he balls his fists and huffs, "Not that part - stealing is wrong!"

"Didn't think you were that dense FantastaMan. You read that paper didn't you? This branch insured up to $30 million, today they were running light because the trucks did the pick up yesterday. There was only probably $15mil here, and all the personal belongings are insured too. This is completely fine!" She said waving her hand dismissively.

"But these are priceless items that the people look to the Triplet City Bank to keep safe! You can't steal from hard-working citizens!"

The villain rolls her eyes. "I didn't - I only "robbed" the rotten ones, honestly that was the hardest part tracking down all that information. Don't even get me started."

"That's still evil."

"Eh? I call it karma."

"Then think of all the bad "karma" coming to you from stealing $15 million dollars!"

"Oh my gosh." The villain says, stomping over to him and holding out her phone - lit up with a news story about the mysterious benefactor who's generous donations have allowed all of the food banks and homeless shelters in Triplet City to reach their ten year funding goals practically overnight.

"I swore I'd never show anyone this, because you know - supposed to be anonymous and all but you just won't shut the hell up. The money goes to the people that need it most, the banks are completely fine, sure, some of the cities biggest dipshits loose a watch or a couple diamonds but frankly I couldn't care less about their feelings." she tucked her phone back into her utility belt and heading for the front exit as she strapped on the jetpack - nodding at bank teller who gives her a small smile.

"Wait!" calls the hero, "That's not how this works, I'm good and you're evil. Not the other way around!"

"I told you I'm an international arms dealer who's most profitable marketing tactic is robbing banks. When did you get the idea that I wasn't evil babe?" she said flashing him one last blinding smile, and a wink before opening the doors, where a swarm of police and press vehicles awaited her.

"You may have done it this time MechaMaiden, but wherever you go know I'm right behind you and I'm coming!" shouted FantastaMan as he charged after her, finally free from the spell of her complicated wordsmithing trickery.

"Funny" she said, "That's what I told your mama last night." And with that she pressed a button on her glove and blasted off - to the skies and beyond, with the rest of Triplet City right where she wanted them, gazing after her with a mixture of horror and devotion.

---MechaMaiden and FantastaMan may return---

"Just sell that." The hero said, pointing at the villains highly advanced jetpack. "The hell are you robbing a bank for? Do you have any idea how much the army would pay for that!? Or for ANY of the other gadgets you made!?"