Ughhh, and Ughhh Some More!

Greetings, All my great friends...

Have you had the chance to take a look at my ebook "Chatterbox", the response has been great I am happy I could share it with you. So it's Saturday and I am heading out to the farm, even though it's raining I am getting ready for my big little part in Ellie's "Star Trek As We Know It Blogfest (August 22nd)" and if you know I loves me some Star Trek. I won't be posting my Star Trek stuff here, nope it will be on my "http://twothumbseightfingers.blogspot.com/" site cause... well I can. Anyway how am I ever going to get you over to that site, see the interviews, reviews and cool stuff there... if you don't know it's there. So put your Spock Ears on and take a look at my Trek on Monday, then stop over and check out the other entries on Ellie's site... you will not be disappointed.

Sabo!

-Jeremy [iZombie]

Our Little Clown...

Our Little Clown

He is so much fun to keep around, making us laugh even in the worst of times. Just want to eat him up with all those witty phrases and puns. Sadness falls every time we think of him getting older, sharing his joys with others, who will not get it. For right now he is our little clown to entertain us privately and free the anger we possess. Place him in the costume that seems smaller every performance, stitches that we darned, don’t hold. Letting go is hard, but could be controlled by locking the door to his freedom. This confinement of his room found in depths of our home, if lucky people around will forget we have a child.

Sex On The Beach...

Sex On The Beach

A man washed upon the shore, he was not quite himself this day. See it appears that he had fallen off the pier and floated to the open sea. So continues his journey he became bloated to the salt which made good for basting. As he drifted, the sun had baked on the open flesh for hours, making it start to bleed. Then the blood caused a numerous amounts of the local inhabitants to feed, including what appears to be shark bites. When he reached his destination on the sandy ground, it was discovered that he was pushed from the high rise. They had been looking for this rapist for days, his last attempted victim was not as willing to have sex on the beach as he hoped.

Pain...

Pain

She says that things will be all right, this time it will get better. This time it was just another accident and to dismiss it again. I always ask why or how soon till the next mishap, she tells me the same things. It happens because of love, a self improvement booster, it is my mistake and to promise not to follow in the footsteps of the accused. I think that there is a wrong being committed; she needs me to lay still and wait for the sun to shine. I recall something that was told to me “fear is a word and pain is a feeling”, but I’m already afraid!

Simple Madness...

Simple Madness

Mrs. Johnson has been married to Brad for a wonderful twelve years, it was good since day one. They have two children, Breck and Brad Jr., who are the apple of mom’s eyes. Brad works as an executive in the factory to support his house. Mrs. Johnson cooks, cleans, and cares for Brad’s family day in and day out. She sometimes takes the family dog Brody to the vet and the children to school. She doesn’t have many friends, she really hasn’t got the time. Taking care of this family is a full time position and being ready for any obstacles. She likes to make cookies for the school’s bake sale and recycles for the future of the community. Today we still don’t know why she hung herself in the laundry room with the vacuum cord.

Child Proof...

Child Proof

Stealing in this store has doubled since the mandatory firearm’s law. Now they can’t get them unless your a cop or in the government. So the scum come here to lift the piece, until that one night back in December. He came in with the long black coat, sweating as if it were summer, looks as my life depends on it, in his eye. Asking questions so softly about the latest styles and hindering on my every move. Showing the best to offer, talking price, feeling the moment as he cased the establishment. Grabbing the piece laying on the counter raising it as if he were God. “Give me all the money or you will eat lead”, with carefully chosen words, he moved close. I pulled out the faithful weapon from under the counter, as he fired squeezing like a professional. You may have the gun pointed at my temple, but see, I sell the bullets, the barrel is empty, mine is not.

Spider In My Head...

Spider In My Head

It started as a dream, well he thought it was a dream. It could very easily have been a nightmare. He was laying in his bed on the verge of dream entry, his eyes were focusing on a shape floating above his exhausted body. It appeared to be moving, but not very quickly, there seemed to be tiny creatures rushing back and forth on the stem of shape. Figuring that it was a figment of his internal thoughts he would let it be. Shapes started downward to the resting soul. He, still eying the unwanted crossovers, decided to play with the imagination at hand. So proceeding to reach for it discovering that what was a dream... wasn’t. As the shape unwound to become a huge unnerving pet feeding her children on something like hair of the unsuspecting victim below.

Monsters Under the Bed...

Monsters Under the Bed

My dad says there are none here, but I see them. The lights exit and the night rolls in. First you here them scuffling near the closet. Then rummaging across the wood floor coming towards me slowly. I try to give them a sacrifice every time, but they reject it, they want my blood. If not mine then probably someone else, maybe mommy’s. I scream as loud as I can to ward off the evil that lurks, it seems to startle the first wave, but there are always others. I know they aren’t real, but do you really know for certain? I do believe that the savior is daddy. He always returns to the scene nightly, proceeds to turn the switch to the upright position. The creatures then seem to disappear just as quietly as they came out. I can’t forget what he tells me before returning to his chamber “go to sleep, it is only a dream, and remember don’t let the bed bugs bite”. I don’t think he understands the problem.

Beg The Bullet...

Beg the Bullet

People say I’m the life of the party, because I tell a joke or two, “lies”. They do this because they feel sorry for me they, truthfully can’t stand me. My so called friends went onto becoming lawyers, executives, or even spies. Me, I just work here trying to find my dreams, my meaning of life. We gather a couple of times and talk on the good old days when things were, you know, better. Always saying, your a great person things will improve, what the hell do they know, they have it all. Oh yeah, the support from my family that is always an award winning performance, go back, it will not work or the favorite “I’m just saying”. I have attempted to do many projects and the outcome was always quite dismal. So what is the answer? Become programmed to succeed like everyone or do I just beg the bullet?

Storming of the Brain - Chatterbox '96

Storming of the Brain

Famed writer and novelist Jim Tops is working on his 27th book in the 25 years of creating life on the pages. So many plots, adjectives, characters, and the story seems to be far from the keyboard to Jim’s fingertips. Stress runs rampant as this storming of the brain comes closer to the deadline. As Jim leaves the room of thought and heads to his wife’s side, kisses her cheek, and proceeds to slit her beautiful throat. He then heads back to the room and realizes the real novel begins tomorrow.

Light House - Chatterbox '96

Light House

Ships roll in throughout the night seeking sanctuary from the mighty crash of the water to the shore. This is a special night where black covers like a blanket on the devil's bed. We have guided with the beams that this house produces for generations. Many lost souls turn to our direction and with this being the eve of dismay, we have been quite busy. Running on all of the candle power we can muster, but we can't save them all. There will be some of the unfortunate who burn for their tardiness, we then just watch as they die. Our light house is hopefully going to see the friendly fire, trinkets, and souvenirs for the future. On the verge of war with weapons that this house of light will not be able to protect. Newly found watery coffins that once resembled boats will be searching for a new power source, that we call a bright light of destruction.

Surgery - Chatterbox '96

Surgery

Sugar and spice and everything that is nice, but not in this place. These ingredients won't help you here in this place of repair. From the table of operations comes our patient, plucked from his fruitfulness of life. So many times he seems to be returning to this room, as if it was his destiny, and it is. Nurse, scalpel then hand me the Anastasia, no the other way around, I think? Check the pulse, let me know when it is the right time to proceed. Screams are not necessary, it will be over quickly, you can't feel the blade sinking gently into your temple. A complete removal of the scalp to expose the inside to the light is in your best interest. I have conducted this procedure many times and the rancid contents of your head is the worst yet. Nurse, the tray to put the yuck, the brain, the illness must be extracted. The clock is ticking faster, expiration is near, must double my efforts. Do a full probe of the inner layers to insure no future inflammatory problems, we will not return. Is he clean? Please scoop the remains, save them for a later date, then give me the torn noggin. Must get it on right, has to be a perfect fit, no room for error, this will reflect my practice.

Next phase of this reconstruction is to move to the facial features. Since the mishap, he needs this total rehash, but it will be a face only a mother would love. The eyes are crushed and need to be pried open with tenderness and these sterilized steel jaws. This will also dislodge the front lobes of the nasal passage to prevent it from collapsing. His mouth will be just as hard to replace as the brain, his teeth are few and far from originally planned. No skin to repair, the lips and gums, most were burnt and not much to work from elsewhere. Why do I bother this risky surgery, for the fame, the praise, or self satisfaction? Knowing that my work would be displayed for everyone to view, for the thirty-first tribute to the festival of witches. The flame from inside this art would shine brightly to the young colorful candy beggars, to show my participation in honoring simple evil.

iZombie vs. Chatterbox [1996]

Many of the brothers and sisters of the blog have done is share their stories from short stories, full length books and movie scripts. I was looking in a box and found a book I had written back in 1996, named "Chatterbox" a set of short stories. More of a roller coaster of ideas I tried to get them published and even had Reggie Bannister (Phantasm films) write a foreword. Times changed and I never got it off the ground even with Reggie's help, so this many years later I wanted someone to read my thoughts.

So they are coming and if you should like them please let me know, if you could do that it would be great... now they have nothing to do with zombies. Nope mostly crazy dreams and thoughts of things going on around me at the time, hopefully they make some sense. Last I am not sure if the are edited or cleaned up versions found, they could be in the raw format I wrote them in.

Thanks,
Jeremy (iZombie)