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Articles:
1-30, 31-60
Articles
Slings and Arrows
2007-01-17 00:50:00 Predator Press [LOBO] I was really having a great week at work.First, my iPhone got approved, and then I got this nifty wireless transmitter with a range larger than the entire plant. Now I can yell at people or pretend I'm talking to Twiki from the bathroom, the parking lot, anywhere. But things went south in a big way today. For the past few weeks, the company has been buying 8 Chicago Bears tickets a game and raffling them off to us. And this week I won the stupid pool. Well technically Louie won. But since he’s lucky enough to no longer be with us, Babs says now I’m the one that has to endure all that traffic both ways and sit in like 12 degrees for nine hours with ten billion of you drunk and rabid crazies. Sunday, I’m going to my first live professional football game. You know, say what you will about my anti-social tendencies, but I’m a basically happy guy when it all boils down. And I like football. But I passionately hate being in crowds; I would muc...
Gainfully Unemployed
2007-01-06 05:58:00 Predator Press [Ethan] LOBO talks about his “job” like it’s shrouded in secrecy. Not that he knows it, but in truth he doesn’t do anything at all. He owns one percent of Hawley Enterprises, and because Babs and I are split down the center for control of the company, his one percent happens to be a controlling interest. Complicating matters, Babs is hot. It’s ironic; before I hired him, you couldn’t keep him out of here. Now, faced with the option of an honest day’s work, he tries hard to be on the opposite side of the Earth. I guess I keep him on the payroll so he can afford to be as far from here as possible.
Swag
2006-12-19 02:36:00 Predator Press [LOBO] Here we go again. Every year, the Predator Press mailroom is ground to a standstill by the brutal onslaught of X-mas presents from you people. Well, it’s pissing me off. I’ve already got tons of Cheetos, stuffed cats, cashiers checks, Pacific islands, and loan applications. --And frankly, the Prozac isn’t funny anymore. Plus, you’re making me feel guilty that we didn’t get you anything. Have you any idea how far behind you are collectively on Predator Press subscriptions, fees and dues? Goddamn it, Ethan is so broke he’s eating fish eggs! (Ethan seems pretty cool with this and all, but Phil hates that crap.)And this year marked the final, final death of my beloved Chick Magnet.I’m already upset, and here you go screwing up our mailroom again. Well thanks a lot. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Why don't you go pick on some other glorious Empire with your savage and selfish "generosity" and "goodwill" this year? How about, for e...
Love is a Funny Thing
2006-12-07 04:11:00 Predator Press [COBE] It was cold. And Troy had grown so much over the past year, his gigantic feet stuck out over the edge of the bed. Virtually everyone commented on his size. And naturally large already, the hard farming toil made his body answer as steel. In deference to his heartbroken mother, rarely was how much he looked like his father spoken aloud. Indeed, 'Vetter the Silent' would have been long forgotten were Troy not first born the very same year the Beast was slain. To the contrary, he was hailed by the small community as a sign of a fearless new beginning. And at seventeen, he was already starting to doubt those stories. Tired from working the dying fields, he should by all rights be sleeping soundly. But his mind dwelled relentlessly over the previous day; the day his beloved Ella, the graceful, lovely girl whom he had deflowered only weeks before, was denied him forever. He could no longer stare at the ceiling through tears; the cold, mourning weight...
In the Bones
2006-12-01 00:53:00 Predator Press [Mr I] “Just look at him,” says LOBO. “He looks so peaceful. The thought of us burying him like that gives me some solace at least.” “He’s not dead,” I remind LOBO from the other side of Cobe’s ICU bed. “So it’s the drugs? My God, he looks so positively blissed out.” LOBO grabs Cobe’s lifeless wrist and proceeds to slap Cobe repeatedly with his own hand. “Stop hitting yourself. Stop hitting yourself. Haw … this bit just never gets old.” The doc lowers his clipboard and sighs. “I’m afraid,” he says, “the prognosis isn’t good.” “He’s going to make it?” says LOBO. “The only hope the patient has at this time is a heart transplant.” “Oh my God,” I says to LOBO. “That will cost a fortune. Ethan’s gonna freak.” “I don’t think you understand," says the doctor. "He has an HMO. HMOs get this done for like eight bucks in Qatar. The problem is actually getting a heart that’s available....
You People Are Being Jerks
2006-11-03 01:58:00 Predator Press [LOBO] You people are really being tough on Babs; she is the light of my life ... my oxygen. One day I hope to bear her children. So lay off. Why, just yesterday she made one of my lifelong dreams come true: she bought me a basketball court-sized recording studio, and hired those guys from Metallica to help me record my album. And when they showed up for the sound check, I made those jerks play dodgeball for six hours.
When Squirrels Attack
2006-11-03 01:22:00 Predator Press [COBE] LOBO's insured, certified, signature only, earliest-possible delivery Fed-Ex lie unopened under my ashtray, sticky from soaking up Santa's blood. Santa had certainly seen better days. The years of steroid abuse alone would have been difficult for to me to correct. But Santa had two compound fractures that would never heal properly, and one was riddled with gangrene. Several digits and one eye had been lost to carrion-scavenging animals. Mad in his agony, Kringle frothed and spat, straining against the table restraints. I take a shot of Wild Turkey, and then pour some on his dry lips. "The shotgun blast, it turned out, was the least of the problems, my old friend," I explained through the surgical mask as I resumed pulling the dark stitches through his thick, muscular neck. "You were grazed for the most part. You're a very lucky man. Sapphire has rarely been known to miss before." "Ho ho ho," Santa wheezed weakly through broken, bloodied teeth. And th...
Blossom
2006-10-22 08:18:00 Predator Press [LOBO] A well-tanned Babs enters my makeshift Palace-slash-Reception Area-slash-Dining Room-slash-Bedroom, wearing only a loincloth and a long, colorfully-feathered headdress. The leggy, hardbodied beauty kneels and sets several small bags of Cheetos at my feet. I think she digs me. Before she can speak, I put a finger to her lips. "You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature I've ever seen, and an infinitely rare, treasured proclaimation that God loves men too. Before you even say a word, I must know your deepest and darkest delights, that I may bathe you in them for as long as we live." "Mighty Lord LOBO," she says, eyes imploring as she rubs my mighty and lordly thighs, "I like tormenting, and then killing my former lovers," "Oh, that is so hot," I says. "But brilliant, sexy King LOBO," she cries into my lap, "I must exact my revenge upon the killer of my former betrothed. Might you be so merciful as to allow me to toss her into a wood ...
Nearly Lost You
2006-10-21 23:41:00 Predator Press [Mr. I] Well, it's been weeks since LOBO's ill-timed ending of the blog, and Dash has been pointing the shotgun at us the whole time.Ethan and I have been on cellphones with Geek Squad guys hacking for the Predator Press passwords, ordering up Chinese, pizza and 'Happy Ending' massages, and bitching out Comcast.Dash, completely emaciated, has been complaining that the shotgun is getting heavy. So here we are. *** "So what exactly do you want, Dash?" I says. "LOBO." "Why?" asks Ethan. "BECAUSE YOU AND BABS HAVE NOW SPLIT HAWLY ENTERPRISES FIFTY-FIFTY. BUT LOBO OWNS ONE SHARE." "That's right!" says Ethan. "I own fifty percent, and so does Babs. Now LOBO, weirdly enough, might have a controlling interest. Can you imagine the wacky things that might occur if LOBO and Babs hook up--?" "Ethan!" I snap. Just then a UPS guy showed up, cradling a cardboard box. "Package for LOBO," he says smiling, as he extends the brown electronic pad. "I'll sign...
Screwed
2006-10-05 05:38:00 Predator Press [Mr. I] Well, we can get where LOBO is, the problem lies in that we can't come back the same way. Ethan, I'm sure, did that on purpose. So LOBO wouldn't get bored and wander back prematurely into an entire universe of people still murderously pissed at him. But this whole Foley-Hastert fiasco might be just the ticket, really; that kid was expensive to hire, but worth every penny. Oh, come on ... don't be so judgmental. I'll bet 99.9999% of you never even knew LOBO was alive in the first place, and here you all are killing LOBOs by the overflowing truckload. You people sicken me. *** I take the elevator to Ethan's office for two reasons. First, I want my fruit basket and props for successfully navigating the PR for his best friend's dimensional return. Second, I wanted to congratulate him for capturing the official lead worldwide for killing overflowing truckloads of LOBOs. He nudged me out by sixteen. But as the elevator opens, the air explo...
Skinny Dip
2006-10-02 05:32:00 Predator Press [Mr. I] Brighta had the feeling they could have found it with their eyes closed. There was a malignant, palpable taint to the very atmosphere: an ancient, insatiable evil had corrupted the very Earth under their feet for a millennia, and it's presence could be subtly felt by all. There is nothing alive for thirty feet around it. No weeds, no trees, no algae, no bugs. Still, at a glance, this shimmering pool tucked away in a thick, ominously quiet forest offers little to otherwise alarm the senses. "That's got to be it," says Max, dropping his map. Vetter nods, moving closer. "Don't touch it!" whispers Brighta. Vetter breaks a branch from a dead tree, and approaches the pool. Slowly, he eases the tip into the surface. Max and Brighta watch in morbid fascination as, rather than penetrating the surface of a liquid, the membrane over the surface indents conically. A fine mist leaks out of the stretched surface, doubtless a sedative of some kind. Then, ...
In Your Dreams, Show No Mercy
2006-10-01 05:24:00 Predator Press [LOBO] Santa was playing right into my hands. My plan was to challenge him to a personal duel --one on one-- whereas I would run around like a sissy until the fat bastard was exhausted, and then kick his ass good and proper. But Santa dismounted Slayer with surprising vitality. Flexing briefly, his red and white outfit tatters to shreds, falling to the ground. Thanks a lot, Nordic Track.
Cris-Crossed
2006-09-30 17:02:00 Predator Press [Mr. I] A fucking mandatory meeting? On Saturday Morning? Don't get me wrong. Ethan's a great man. A towering economic, political and philosophical success story of historic --possibly even epic-- proportion. But I will kill him if I have to. Head between my knees, I massage blinding pain from my temples with almost tearful futility. Ethan isn't here yet, but everyone else is. Whatever this is, it's a big deal. *** Ethan takes the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen," he clears his throat, and adjusts the microphone slightly. "First I would like to thank you for taking the time out of your weekend and coming here this morning. In that spirit, I'll keep this short and get right to the point." Brief nervous murmurs swell in the room, utterly silenced when Ethan continues. "Please allow me to take this opportunity to introduce you to the new Vice President and CEO of Hawley Enterprises." The room darkens. "I give you Babs!" Thundering drums sear m...
Human Resources
2006-09-30 01:00:00 Predator Press [Mr. Insanity] Dr. Keller released me after only a few days, and Ethan had Rosalyn Gates --Hawly Enterprises' Human Resources Director-- pick me up from Bertram. I immediately think I'm getting fired. Could be for anything from the bad PR, being "institutionalized", to increasing insurance liability. But if I'm getting fired, I'm getting fired behind the wheel, dammit. Besides, Rosalyn drives a spiff new Mustang I want to check out.Reluctantly, she gets into the passenger side of her own car, and I peel out of the hospital parking lot. *** Rosalyn looks different in natural light. A fit and attractive woman in maybe her early forties, she's always smiling and friendly, but now I see how that has worn on her over the years: she looks like a woman who is psychotically sick to death of smiling and being friendly. An uncomfortable silence ensues. "What's this all about?" I finally ask, pushing 110 on I-65. "Well, we received some rather alarming compl...
Shadows of the Season
2006-09-29 01:05:00 Predator Press [LOBO] Nobody suspects Babs is the scorned mistress of Kringle --introduced in the June 5 2006 blog entry titled "Writing on Fire"-- because nobody reads this blog now. I can't warn Ethan, Phoebe, Sapphire or the Jaycees for two reasons: The first is I'm trapped in another dimension, asshole. The second is that despite my staggering brainiosity, my noggin is completely vacant of that little fact as well.... I'm certainly not reading this sophomoric, banal tripe ... *** As the naked women carry me down the mountain, a great feast is being prepared. And all the way, I'm peppered with questions like, "How was your day?" and "Do you think she's pretty?" and "Do I look fat naked?" A cute blonde named Zima finally pries the television remote from my hands and asks, "What's life like in that," she makes quote signs with her hot, naked fingers, "other dimension?" "Well, not having hot naked horny women around climbing mountains and cooking and stuff is ...
Babs
2006-09-24 21:33:00 Predator Press [Mr. I] When I came in, Phoebe and Sapphire stared in simple disbelief. "Morning ladies," I says cheerily. Setting down my Starbucks, I proceed to hang my coat, whistling. "What the hell are you doing here on a Sunday?" asks Sapphire. "I don't know," I smile. "Just feeling a little productive I guess." Sniffing the air, Phoebe looks at Sapphire. "He doesn't even smell like whisky and cheap hookers." "No ladies," I sigh. "I'm turning my life around. From here on out, I'm a brand new man." "Is this because LOBO is gone?" "Probably," I shrug. "At least in part. But I think my luck is changing. You know that hot new chick Babs?" "Uh," says Sapphire, looking at Phoebe nervously. "Yes ..." "Let me tell you," I say, gyrating my hips in the air. "That chick is a freak." "You had sex with Babs too?" says Phoebe. "Yes I did," I say with unabashed smugness. "I did things with that chick that--" I pause, eyebrows furrowed. Turning slowly to Phoebe,...
Prodigy
2006-07-30 16:22:00 Predator Press [Mr. I] Napoleon, in full non-Napoleonic attire, was just getting back when I woke. I decided, last night, that it would just be safer and more convenient to keep an eye on them from my place. The roommate thing hasn't really turned up anything so far, so it wasn't like I didn't have the space. So I gave Napoleon the extra bedroom, and went into the basement to clear out a spot for the other lunatic.Luckily, I found a nasty old flea-ridden dog bed that has been there since I moved in. Hearing the sounds of glass breaking, LOBO followed me down. He already had his footie Gi Joe pajamas on, and was gingerly toting a mug of hot chocolate. "No marshmallows?" "No," I says, sprinkling salt everywhere. "Now try not to break any more of this glass lying around. It's very valuable." "Gotcha," he says, alternating the hot mug in his hands. "This'll be just like when we went camping in Chicago." "Yes," I says absently as I climb the cobwebby stairs. "Minus...
Tar Baby
2006-07-24 20:23:00 Predator Press [Mr. I] I hand the clipboard back through the sliding glass window, and the nurse scrutinizes it with great interest through thick, black-framed Buddy Holly glasses you associate with the nerdy. "Hm," she began. "No drugs or alcohol? Really?" "No ma'am," I says. "He says he doesn't like sharing the credit." That's when I start feeling my first pangs of guilt. At least when LOBO did drugs, he would tend to be a little more reclusive. And cautious. Manageable. But drug-free status only emboldened him. In his eyes, I think, he was just finally taking his rightful spot in the world with the rest of us clean lunatics. Still, this was a kind of half-truth. LOBO and I have blown some occasional weed. But I don't feel like explaining to some nosy puritanical asshole how they should mind their own fucking business about people's private recreational pursuits. We're adults. And we're not robbing liquor stores and crashing cars. It's commerce rea...
!?!
More articles from this author:2005-12-08 11:19:00 Predator Press [DASH CUNNING] DASH CUNNING HAS RECEIVED ENOUGH STETSON COLOGNE GIFT SETS THANK YOU.DASH CUNNING IS NO LONGER LEGALLY ABLE TO WEAR STETSON BECAUSE HIS SECRETARIES' EYES MELTED OUT OR SOMETHING. HAVE YOU PEOPLE THOUGHT OF LUXURY CARS? AN EIGHT-STORY GOLDEN DASH STATUE INCLUDING PLACES TO WORSHIP DASH IN SELF-DEPRECATING COMFORT AND SPLENDOR? OR WHAT ABOUT MULTIPLE LARGE, TECHNICALLY LEGAL POLITICAL CONTRIBUTIONS TO JESSE HELMS? OR MAYBE A SMALL POLITICALLY UNSTABLE REPUBLIC SOMEWHERE IN THE PACIFIC? HM? DASH CUNNING HAS ALWAYS WANTED A SMALL POLITICALLY UNSTABLE REPUBLIC SOMEWHERE IN THE PACIFIC.WELL THANK YOU ANYWAY, AND MERRY CHRISTMAS! 1-30, 31-60 |
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