There's a new short story up at Protomonkey. This one is a corroboration between Paul and myself.

Go. Read. Enjoy!

Posted by: Jim at 12:27 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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I had a freaking long-ass drive home yesterday. Y'all benefit from my misfortune though because a new story wrote itself during my extended commute.

Three and oh is now posted over at Protomonkey. This is one of my better ones, if I do say so myself. It popped in the noggin almost whole and all I had to do was get it down in type.

Plus, in a stark departure from my normal Christmas fare, it isn't a horror story!

Merry Christmas!

Posted by: Jim at 11:10 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Maculatus tried to regain his feet but failed. The blow had sent him flying and the landing dazed him severely. He craned his head and looked about him. The scene he saw was vivid but meaningless through the cloud of fog that seemed to have overcome his mind.

Cloud. Yes, that was a cloud there. A deadly cloud of poisonous gas that endangered his town and his beautiful queen. The queen he had been born to serve. Born and bred quite literally, as were all the warriors of Vespulica. The queen was in danger! The urgency of that thought banished the cobwebs from his mind and the last moments came back to him with frightening clarity and speed. more...

Posted by: Jim at 12:48 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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Okay, so maybe it wasnÂ’t a good idea to drink quite so much. And maybe he could have behaved just a bit better at dinner. It probably wasnÂ’t a great idea to tell the kids the truth about Santa, either. Still, is that any reason to be kicked out of the house and dis-invited to the Christmas morning festivities?

So Rob sat in his living room mulling over the evening debacle, nursing his whiskey on the rocks in front of the fire. All alone on Christmas Eve and thinking about the Christmas Day he would spend equally alone.

It just wasnÂ’t fair! They were his nephews and he was just looking out for their own best interests. His parents had played the Santa game with him until he was ten years old. That was when he discovered the truth in humiliating style in front of what seemed at the time like the entirety of his school class. He just didnÂ’t want his nephews to go through that painful ordeal. Was it so very wrong to try to protect them?

Apparently it was, at least to his sister. She had gone ballistic when little Spence ran up to her crying and bawling about how Santa wasnÂ’t real, Uncle Rob said so. SheÂ’d tried to reassure the little fellow but to no avail. SheÂ’d dragged Robert into the parlor and tore strips off his hide but he had refused to recant and tell the kids that there really was a Santa Claus. So she had called him a cab and thrown him out on the front porch to wait for it, after making it oh so perfectly clear that he was not to return the next day. more...

Posted by: Jim at 11:17 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 2202 words, total size 12 kb.

Terry repositioned himself, angling for a clear view of the doorway. It wouldn't be long before his target walked through it. He checked the position of the setting sun. Yes, just a few minutes. About fifteen, to be precise.

Terry knew his target, Todd McCallum, almost better than he knew himself and he knew that tonight McCallum would be coming through that door alone. Months of study and preparation would be paid off tonight. The countless hours invested in studying his prey during the dark hours of the night would soon be redeemed. Tonight would be the night, he was sure of it. He settled down as flat as he could make himself and stared at the doorway through eager eyes.

Terry could have taken McCallum long ago if he had been free to act according to his own designs but there were so many rules that he had to follow. No witnesses. No evidence. It had to be done in this location. He had to strike from this position. So many damned rules but what was the use in complaining? It wasn't always easy being an M.U.B. but it would certainly be rewarding tonight, now that everything was coming together. He turned his head and checked the sun again. Ten minutes, give or take. He grinned ferally and ran his tongue over his lips. Oh, this was going to be sweet.

McCallum had established a pattern, something very dangerous for someone in his position. He had an escort every other night but for the past three weeks he'd been alone when he came through that door on Saturday evenings. Terry couldn't do anything at all when one of McCallum's bodyguards was present. That's why tonight's strike was so important. It wasn't like he'd be able to continue this hunt indefinitely. Eventually somebody was going to cop to his hiding place (the one mandated by the damned M.U.B. rules!) and then he would be up Shit Creek. He glanced at the sunset again. Any minute now. Any minute. more...

Posted by: Jim at 10:19 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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I can write more than humor and horror, you know. ;-)

Parental advisory: You should be at least 18 years of age to view the extended entry. more...

Posted by: Jim at 03:38 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
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The Writer's Noose is a short story in weblog format. It was presented on the sly in the tradition of War of the Worlds. Some regular readers of Snooze Button Dreams were aware that it was a work of fiction but the majority of commenters on that site were honestly unaware. Of the authors and commenters there, Chuck, Burger Queen, Alan and Becky were my characters. All of the others were readers.

Start at the beginning and read on through. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The original post that was in this spot has been saved in the extended entry. more...

Posted by: Jim at 09:31 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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I caught a fairy. A freaking fairy, can you believe it? Nasty looking thing, too. Two feet tall, scaly skin, big floppy ears, slanted eyes and a mouth full of teeth that could shred a side of beef in seconds. Freaking pirranha teeth. "You know, fairies can skeletonize a cow in 15 seconds" teeth. It's sitting over there right now staring at me and gnashing those rippers. Freaking unnerving, man.

You don't believe me? Guess I can't blame you. You don't know me from Adam after all and this isn't exactly the most commonplace thing in the world. A literal fairy tale with me as the main character and no idea how the story ends. Except that fairy tales have an annoying tendency to end with BAD THINGS happening to Joe Hero so I'm not all that happy to be cast in the role. Okay then, fair's fair. I'll give you the 411 and then you can activate your suspension of disbelief for my benefit and your edification. more...

Posted by: Jim at 08:57 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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1 so far, so good

Posted by: Ted at October 14, 2003 09:11 AM (bov8n)

2 I am impressed. You can blog, you can write short stories, and you can suck cows off. I liked it. Keep 'em coming. And I am going to plaguerize "writer's noose" from you. Hope you don't mind!

Posted by: Helen at October 14, 2003 10:49 AM (ADrg6)

3 Glad y'all are enjoying it. I used to write quite a bit but that slowed down after a certain nightmarish professor put the whammy on me and then close to disappeared after having kids. I hope "plaguerize" was a typo and not a Freudian slip. LOL

Posted by: Jim at October 14, 2003 11:10 AM (IOwam)

4 Oops. Stupid Helen. Stupid stupid!

Posted by: H at October 14, 2003 11:35 AM (ADrg6)

5 Normally, if a story starts with a description of a fairy, I'm bailing by the second paragraph--but this is good. You have me wondering what happens, anyway; does that count?

Posted by: ilyka at October 15, 2003 02:53 AM (b0Boo)

6 I'm generally the same way, Ilyka. That's because the "modern" fairy is a cute little thing with gossamer wings or a pot belly and a pipe. The legends of the unseelie wights are absolutely nothing like the Disneyfied crap that the world has been subjected to for the past 50 years. I'm a traditionalist. >

Posted by: Jim at October 15, 2003 06:41 AM (IOwam)

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