All posts by Marsha Mellow

Bio of Marsha Mellow by Marsha Mellow I knew I wanted to be a famous writer from the time I was a little girl (my high school cheerleading career was never going to pan out). Originally I thought I'd write books but growing up in a conservative, gated community in Texas left me with NO creative ideas, so I chose corporate journalism. My daddy (I think he was an Exxon climatologist) made sure I got the finest education money could buy, although he seemed disappointed when I finished with a degree instead of a husband. My meteoric rise in journalism began as an unpaid intern at my hometown weekly, The Village Gossip, writing garden party reviews (very high brow stuff). From there I went to The Star Tribune where I won the 'perkiest obituary award' 6 years running. But I really hit it big at Newscorp, typing bottom-scroll news alerts on live cable T.V. I was a perfect fit at FOX...but that ended abruptly when my boss's wife objected to our afternoon "production meetings" at the Parkway Motel. Oh well, who cares about a silly bunch of torture, illegal wars and drone terrorism anyway? I spent the next seven years as a copy writer for the pharmaceutical industry, doing side-effects disclaimers for all the new drugs. My favorite was "...may cause anal discharge from the naval." Ooooh, but those were good times...doing god's work...with endless free samples... When a bizarre set of stories about Clowns piqued my curiosity, I saw a golden opportunity to do some REAL, Fox level, journalism and exploit the hell out of them. Clowns were an already marginalized population of simpletons...easy money. Of course, having to associating with 'those' freakish people was a little out of my comfort zone...and I ran into technical problems which forced me to partner with an 'artist' (the only creatures I loathe more than Clowns, Ugh!) but this was an important story and I expected it to bring me the fame and fortune I deserved. Ultimately, Clown stories don't measure up to celebrity sex scandals and outed congressmen in the mainstream news, so my work never went to press. A BOOK of Clowns, however, seemed a perfect consolation....and put me right back on track to fulfill my earliest childhood dreams. Coming soon, "Marsha Mellow's Blue-ish Freaks." Bio of John Allemand by Marsha Mellow A lot of people like John’s art…but he’s really not the sort that ‘respectable’ people should get to know. He’s been known to associate with circus people (Clowns!), has arguments with random body parts (spleens!) and has an ugly prejudice against sentient technology (robots!). He’s certainly not the type you’d “want to have a beer with” like George W. Bush. In utero, John had a conjoined twin brother attached at the buttocks but by the time he was born, his twin had been completely absorbed..…except for its tiny, powerful brain. Being the dullard of the two, John naturally deferred all of his higher thinking to his (lower) smarter brain. I often say that most of his best ideas come straight out of his ass. He was born in East Orange NJ, the youngest of 16 and despite a typical American public school education, he came away with a deep appreciation for diverse cultures and ideas - a freakish critical thinker…very disappointing. A few years later, however, he learned to suppress his personal integrity and craftsmanship as it made him a pariah among his peers and a liability to his clients. Lowering himself into the sleaze of corporate advertizing, he convinced himself it was all worth it ‘for the sake of the kids’ (which it wasn’t). John had a spectacular 30 year career in film & animation doing amazing work on some of the worst T.V. shows and dangerous commercials ever made. He was a master of selling useless crap to gullible people. When the corporate art industry collapsed under austerity, he retired to follow his passions. In Costa Rica he became a Free-Range Guacamole Rancher but something in the water caused a partial rebirth of his twin brother through his scrotum. In Kalamazoo his 'Shits and Giggles' Gourmet Taco Truck was a raging success until he sold it to a fellow with one leg named Willy when local Taco Mobsters made threats on his yet unnamed legs. In Weehawken, he became a live organ collector for Morty’s Door-to-Door Coffin Emporium...but was fired for sampling the merchandise. He caught the itch for art again in Flushing, as a happy-face painter at Herbies Corpus’ Human Taxidermy. He left to become a urinal cake decorator for Jakes Kakes in Coxsackie, New York (still giggles when he hears "Coxsackie"). When I finally tracked him down (milking bulls at the County Fair in Sheboygan) I offered him a job (and a hot shower) on the spot. Despite my personal dislike for his kind, real artists are hard to find now-a-days and he was my best and only hope for illustrating my extraordinary projects. It took some maneuvering but once I got him to sign my (clever) contract we set off, that very night, across America for a one month research road-trip…..and didn’t return for 10 years. What we discovered and documented in our search for Clowns, Freaks and Oddies is quite amazing.....but to learn more, you’ll have to buy my books. These days, John spends his time illustrating for me, desperately searching for a way out of our contract (ha ha ha!). He often dreams of becoming a spotted pink rhinoceros while his sharper twin brother plots to take over the world.

Willy Pete

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Willy Pete was the smartest person he knew. He was thinking all the time.  He had little else to do in his crate – yes, Willy lived with several other smart fellows like him – in a crate, in a warehouse.  For their first few years they were moved around a lot.  They were transported from warehouse to warehouse, in different parts of the world, sometimes by truck or by ship or by cargo plane.  Willy could always tell where they were by the air pressure, humidity, altitude, motion… because he was REALLY smart.  Eventually, he and his fellows were let out of their crate and clamped under the wing of an airplane.

Willy Pete loved flying from the moment they took off.  He loved the speed, the wind in his face and that he could finally see everything in the wider world – rivers, mountains, fields and forests…and all of it made him even smarter.  They flew for hours and hours and every moment was wonderful.

They careened mere feet above the ocean waves, steered wildly through desert canyons and between tall buildings – then angled upward and climbed so high above the clouds that he could almost touch outer space……But as they dropped back down toward the city below, Willy received a signal which armed him for what he realized was his true purpose.  The wing clamps released, his cameras and control fins activated and a pilot, half way around the world, took control and guided him toward his target.

Willy thought feverishly, knowing he had just seconds left (that apartment building was getting huge, fast) wondering why he was released.  He trusted…he HOPED he would serve a noble purpose.  He yearned for the chance that his death might have meaning…perhaps to save the world?

But as he crashed through a kitchen window, plowing through furniture, appliances and toys, he saw the startled look on the faces of several people gathered for an evening meal – and counted no less than six children around the table – as he explo………

***Exploded…..I think it meant to say, “exploded” before the transmission ended.  -Marsha

Slack Jaw

slackjaw-50     Father Rodriguez Domingo Emanuel Castillo stood on the dais before his congregation at Sunday mass, slack jawed and silent – as if in a trance. Everyone was (respectfully) baffled as he committed his minor, weekly spectacle.  Intense prayers hissed through humid air, a mumbled chanting, eyes lolling, bodies swaying, swooning and barfing in awe as his lips and cheeks slackened while the agonizing minutes passed.  A thick silence fell as  his melting jaw splashed into a dribbley puddle at his feet.  Nobody moved or said anything… everyone just stared, stupidly…..it must be a miracle… right?

***I love religion, so entertaining, so debilitating…but no matter how I’d love to rant on about it, I’m even more compelled to announce that we now have our ETSY shop up and running (just follow the link to www.sallemander.com and you’ll find the link to the site/shop).  You can get our two books and soon, original art prints.  Also, we now have both our books for sale at St. Mark’s Comics in New York City (one of our favorite places on Earth), so go there and buy our shit!  -Marsha

Gob the Clown

Gob the Clown-49      Spartacus Spittle woke up the moment he hit the wall.  What should have hurt like hell, only exhilarated him as he gasped his first breath and his first gooey thought shat through his brain bubbles.  His brand new eyes popped open in time to spot his birth father tromping away in floppy, oversized shoes, a bright orange wig and a baggy, polka dotted jumpsuit.  Spartacus felt a wave of affection wash down his still unformed leg jizzle.

The impact with the wall spattered most of his foamy mass of phlegm in an impressive spread but he was already retracting elastically into a sloppy infant form.  Just below him, however, was the spittoon that his father was aiming for as he made his glorious journey, rumbling up from the lungs and simultaneously snorking down from the sinuses,  commingling on the birth canal tongue to be fired out of his silly painted gob with a convulsive “HORK!!”

As Spartacus clung to the wall for dear life – lest he fall into the spittoon and die – he felt confident that if he’d inherited his father’s bad aim he would probably miss the pot anyway.

***As much as I’d love to expound on all the fascinating data we’ve compiled on Clown reproduction and birth, I’m even more excited about our new ‘Creepy Clown Coloring Book’, which is where this week’s image comes from.  Even better, we’ve just ‘opened’ our Etsy shop where you can find both our new books by searching “EEWbooks”.  When I figure out the actual link, I’ll let you know.  -Marsha  

 

Creepy Clown Coloring Book

Creepy-Clown-48 copy ***Our new book is out.  We got a hefty stack of advance copies and are selling them like crazy, first at the Newark Comic Con (Aug. 20th) and now among friends near and far and online.  We also have both our books;  ‘Creepy Clown Coloring Book’ and ‘Blue-ish freaks’ for sale in our first retail store, Time Warp Comics, in Cedar Grove, NJ.

     Don’t worry, just because its a coloring book its no less awful (and beautiful) than our other works.  Its a delightful gallery of fantastic images designed to rekindle your fondest nightmares in a grizzly fender bender down memory lane.  Its only $10. and you can get your own copy by following the link on this page to www.sallemander.com.  -Marsha

Birth of a Clown

Birth of a Clown-47The birth of a Clown is a sacred thing.                                                                 A blessed and joyous day.                                                                                               So pinch your nose and light a match                                                                    and try not to flush it away.

***They say “You can attract more flies with honey than with vinegar” – but even more with poop.  I guess the same applies to Comic Cons…where my ‘POOP’ stickers were a HUGE hit.  Oh, they loved my new books and original art prints and stuff – but the poop stickers lured them in like adorable, moist little champs.  The Newark Comic Con last Saturday was a good one for us.  We met tons of cool, beautiful, fascinating comic people, had a great time (and even made a little money).  I can’t wait for the next show in September.  The image this week is page 7 from ‘Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks’.  My new ‘Creepy Clowns Coloring Book’ should be up on our site an ready for sale next week.  -Marsha

Headstand

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Henry Higgenbottom had an amazing talent. Welllll, maybe not so amazing as, lets say, ‘quirky’.  You see, Henry could “headstand”.  Yeah,  not so amazing…but since nobody else could ever do it quite like him, it kinda became his ‘thing’.  And despite all practical advice. he ‘did’ the crap out of his ‘thing’.  He became a minor local celebrity (oddity), got his fifteen minutes of fame on the T.V. news and bartered that into a stint on the state carnival circuit which propelled him into a pretty good gig with a circus sideshow troupe as a ‘Tumbling Contortionist’.  All things considered, however, his convulsive hiccupping act usually stole the spotlight (and all the laughs) and made his ‘headstand’ gimmick look pretty dull.  But Henry never gave up on it.  It was his own unique gift to the world, a sacred piece of his very soul and he made sure it was part of every show he did…..until one day he accidentally mixed his hiccups with his ‘headstand’ and so disrupted his specially balanced stance that he snapped his own ridiculous neck.

***Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE who has seen the image above seems to think it has some political meaning – perhaps implying the state of the nation or of the American voting public… Bollocks and drivel!  It is no such thing.  Read the post!  Its nothing more than a tragic fragment of an ambitious loser.  We don’t do politics in this blog!

John and I will have a table in Artist Alley at the Newark Comic Con on Saturday, August 20 (1100 McCarter Hwy., Newark, NJ) where we will be presenting advance copies of my new book, “Marsha Mellow’s Creepy Clown Coloring Book”, as well as original art prints and copies of three books by our good friend Joe Del Priore.  -Marsha  

Uprising

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The Clowns rose up in anger one day                                                                      deciding enough is enough.                                                                                            They poured out into the streets en masse,                                                        yelling and juggling stuff. 

They wanted ‘equal rights’, they said,                                                                to be ‘taken seriously’.                                                                                                    An end to random giggles and leers.                                                                   They wanted respect, you see. 

Snarling traffic with mini Clown cars,                                                               squirtling flowers and ties,                                                                                         their strike turned into a riot (of sorts)                                                           pelting police with pies. 

They overwhelmed the barricades,                                                                storming the walls and ditches                                                                                  and made their way up to capital hill,                                                                    leaving the cops in stitches. 

But as they breached the chamber doors,                                                       their smiles turned into frowns,                                                                                  for the senate was already occupied                                                                      by Idiots, Mimes and Clowns.

I wrote this piece and John illustrated it almost two decades ago.  I thought, for sure, things MUST change for the better by now…..  -Marsha

Old Wives’ Tail

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Last night she came in through the bathroom window…the one up on the third floor.  At this point I’m too numb to be surprised.  Last week, before bed, she reached up to take her glasses off and her whole head came away.  She paid it no mind, just set it down on the nightstand next to her spittoon and went to sleep – I slept on the couch that night.

Three days ago she came home from a visit with her mother dragging a massive, spiked tail behind her as if nothing was amiss (talk about an old wives tail).  The dogs were pretty upset.  I spent the night ‘working’ in my office with a bottle of scotch and a joint.

So, the bathroom window thing was hardly a bother – and the mystery of how she managed the climb was solved when I noticed her folding leathery bat wings up under her coat.  What those long curly tusks could possibly be used for, I cannot guess…..but I think I’ll sleep out in the car tonight.

***This is a true story.  It happened to a guy I knew…well actually the next door neighbor of a second cousin, twice removed of my best friend’s cubicle mate (from her old job’s) mother-in-law.  It’s really sad how people drift apart but its inevitable and sometimes we just have to adapt to the new paradigm.  This is another unofficial ‘red rough’ sketch from our upcoming book “Body-Oddies” which I’m forbidden to post…but what John (my illustrator) doesn’t know won’t kill him.   -Marsha

 

Without A Clue

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Cornelius lost his head…just went completely off.  One moment he was calm, cool and collected, the next – frantic and frustrated.  He had no idea where he left the darned thing.  It was gone without a clue.  Sometimes he left it somewhere he wanted to remember to return to later (which was smart, right?) but couldn’t remember where it was later without his head.  Some times it just rolled off and bounced away on its own.  Somebody said he should get it fixed… but it wasn’t broken.  That’s just the way he was.  Besides, what would all the others say if HIS was permanent…but what does everybody else do when they lose theirs?  Oh phoooey!!  Permanent heads…..that’s just crazy, it just isn’t done!

***While we stay strictly and completely away from politics on this blog, I can’t help but notice how much John’s image resembles the American electorate in each election cycle (although for this one – 2016 – I should have an image of a moron chugging draino).  It was originally published in Analog Magazine, Sept., 2006.  My short, flash-fiction fragment is good for keeping my twitter friends comfortable.  Long posts make them skiddish.  -Marsha 

I Am Joe’s Big Left Toenail

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I am Joe’s big left toe nail.  See me soar through the air like a demented boomerang.  I know not where I shall land but I’ll probably miss the trash bin because Joe’s ability to aim the stuff he spits out is for shit.

I guess Joe finally got tired of my glorious reign at the tip of his big toe as master of all I surveyed.  I must have threatened his manhood (or ruined the toe of one too many socks).  He tried to clip me with a fingernail trimmer but I valiantly resisted – and broke it – so he got pissed off, sat down on the toilet and bit me right off his toe with his teeth.

I say, ‘Good riddance to Joe!’  I shall become king of all the gross stuff next to his overflowing trash can – as I can see that I am already the mightiest of all the toe nails there and I shall rule for an eternity, since Joe is far too lazy to clean his friggin’ bathroom, which smells like the squeaky ass end of a dead rhinoceros on a hot, sunny day.

***Yes, we have the cult classic “Fight Club” to thank for the inspiration for this flash-fiction fragment.  It originated as a prompt in our Saturday ‘Free-Write’ workshop with the  Montclair NJ Write Group.  I pilfered the “Feet” image from one of John’s horrible Clown illustrations, slated for publication in 2017 in our book, “Bludgeon the Clown”.  -Marsha