Freewriting Journal Entry May 10th

Heart pacemaker thing installed on my wife or for my wife to keep her from passing out.

It’s a pretty rough thought, knowing there is a device installed… a foreign object in my wife’s shoulder.

Imagine all the object we can now install on our bodies… in our bodies. Robo-humans. Arms, legs, hearts so much.

You know… I heard there are people that have surgery to look like elves. Really…

How about surgery to look like a boxer after a Mike Tyson fight… where the boxer bites your ear?

“Hey, what happened to your ear?”

“Oh nothing it’s supposed to hang down like that.”

“Really? It’s supposed to barely hang like that.. looks disgusting.”

“Well that rude… this is art, man what I do with my body is my business.”

“Sure is,” says the man walking away.

… are you asking for trouble when you do stuff like that? Tattooed face, weird ears… hey look at me!

The only experience I have is wearing fedoras or my custom tshirts. Speaking of that.. I have to run through all my artwork @ http://www.brokenstickstudio.com and add detailed descriptions. Sell it. It’s on my procrastination list.

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Should of killed Gary

A bloody spectre of Erik appeared. A doppleganger of the Butcher of Ransom. “You should of killed him,” said his doppleganger.

“I should of done many things, killing Gary will not bring them back.”

“This creature killed your daughter, in front of you… and your wife… she became infected as you did nothing.”

“I was trying to cure the disease. I was doing something. What were you doing creating a weapon?”

Erik turned toward the doppelganger and shoved a shelf full of milk. The gallons of milk fell with a thud and exploded. A zombie growled in the darkness. The doppelganger disappeared as Erik fumed.

“Now I have to wrangle up another zombie and in the dark. Erik looked to his left. He found Gary struggling to stand with a long piece of aluminum thrust through his thin chest. He stumbled into the darkness of the warehouse. The whiskey left his feet huge and heavy. The zombie growled. It’s heavy breath coming closer.

“Light switch… Light switch.. where did I put you,” Erik sang.

The zombie approached. A string struck Erik’s face. He paused, smiled and pulled. A sheet of aluminum fell from the ceiling. Erik leapt forward. His shoulder struck a large steel shelf leg. Pain screamed from his shoulder to his hands. The sheet of aluminum rocked within the stale air of the warehouse. Light from a skylight flooded a small section of the darkness.

Erik rolled to his back, holding his shoulder. He watched as the thin silver sheet struck the black steel shelf, causing it to ring. The sheet then fell forward and into a small zombie woman approaching.

Perfect Teeth

“Move slowly,” Erik told himself as he stared into the pale eyes of the zombie. His right arm was outstretched. His hand holding the glass door open. The zombie’s leathery nose flared as Erik slowly moved his hand backward. The zombie took in a deep breath and reveal it’s rotten… no perfect teeth. It lunged forward. Erik paused for a moment, he saw the teeth polished and healthy.

“What the hell,” Erik shouted as he withdrew his hand. The zombie shoved the door into the adjacent door and the glass shattered. The creature squared it’s body with the frame of the open doorway and bared it’s teeth.

“Gary!” Erik shouted. “Gary, have you been brushing your teeth? I lost my teeth six months into this tragedy and you have thirty-some tighty-whities two years later. What the hell… I thought we were friends. You know we can’t be friends anymore… liar.”

Erik dropped the bottle of whiskey from his left hand and grabbed the left side if the zombies head. He attempted to push it sideways. The creature resisted as Erik’s hand began to sink into the rot on its face. The zombie turned it’s face and Erik’s arm came within intches of those perfect teeth.

“My god, Gary,” Erik shouted then shoved the zombie backward with his foot. The zombie fell backward into a stove shelf. The dusty products cascading to the floor. The noise echoing of the walls. Another zombie growled or was it a delightful squeal? It stumbled through the darkness of the warehouse.

Whiskey

“Bah..ba…bam.. I don’t want to doubt you… wishing I could run..” Erik sings parts of Love You Madly. A song long past it’s prime. The thought of life when the music flowed through the Internet… Erik brushed it away and swallowed the rest of the whiskey he found.

He watched a zombie stumble through the aisles of the abandoned grocery.

“Gary!” Erik shouted, opening the glass doors of the defunct refrigerator.

Startled, the zombie leapt, but soon returned to it’s aimless search for the living.

Erik reached for a gallon of solidified milk, he opened the door wide and threw the jug at the zombie.

“Hey, stink-face. Eat me.”

The jug exploded against a store aisle. The solidified milk burst from the jug, covering the zombie in white.

Erik laughed… coughed… then laughed again.

The zombie turned and growled. It then marched toward Erik.

“Gary is mad.. Gary is mad…” Erik taunted between fits of laughter. “Ha…”

A noise within the dark store warehouse changed his mood.

Did he lock the back door? Did someone figure out his traps and walk inside?

A crash from within the darkness confirms Erik’s fear. He curses and attempts the close the glass door but it will not move.

“Holy crap,”

Am I back?

I want to take this moment, while I’m on the throne to ponder whether I am back to writing and this blog. I’ve been thinking a out it a lot.

What have I been doing? You say?

Well, working and growing my artistic talents mainly. I’ve been working really hard on something that I feel will get me somewhere. Writing, while I love it.. is just not do it that. Sorry, writing muse.. but…

I am back on this blog and I am posting so… Am I back?

She’s not stopping – City of Zombies

“She’s not stopping,” Jean said as both men watched Rebecca weave through the stationary traffic.

“I can’t go after her.  She stabbed me.”  Erik pleaded with the tall man.

“You want me to run after her?”

“Um.. yes.”  Erik replied.

“Who do you think I am, an Olympic athlete?”

Erik was cooking up a response when he noticed Rebecca had stopped abruptly.  She was nearly one hundred feet away and standing in front of two dark-skinned men.

“Sean and Andrew,” Erik began to limp toward them.

Both men talked to Rebecca as Erik and Jean approached.

“Where the hell you been?”  Erik shouted as they stood facing the men.

“What?  Are you my father?”  Sean replied.

“Why are you letting this young lady take off like that?”  He asked.

Erik told the men about the overnight stay and the fate of Rebecca’s grandfather and mother.  Rebecca sobbed, no longer ran, and said very little.

“We need to get some food.  I’m starve’n.”

“There’s an old fast food restaurant up the street.  Not sure what would be eatable but we could try there.”