Persistently Inedible

Persistently Inedible  (resisting the inevitable)

They came for me in the dead of night, grabbed me and forced a sack over my head.  I was taken to an undisclosed location, locked in a room with nothing but a table and chair.  A plate of food was set in front of me.  Weird.  They told me I could leave… but only if I finished everything on my plate.  I was not hungry.

I tried to reason with them.  I ranted and raged and pounded my fists in a heroic hissy fit., I even begged…but they ignored me and by then, hours later, I was getting hungry.

The plate of food was still sitting there but I didn’t recognize anything on it.  It must have been some kind of exotic vegetables.  It didn’t smell good.  I resisted.

A few hours later I was famished.  I took a closer look.  maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, but just then, something twitched.  I squeemed with the heebie-jeebies…and looking again, I could swear it was breathing.  I thought I’d puke but had nothing to give…that’s when it all started to stir and writhe and become agitated.  It was REALLY weird (but I was sooooooo hungry now).

I grabbed a piece off the plate, wrestled it into my mouth and down my throat.  It resisted, kicking and screaming all the way down.  That’s when I puked…but as it limped away angrily, I caught it again and RE-ate it.  In fact, I managed to round up every single piece of those awful, jabbering bits of freakish vegetable…and I must say, it was the best meal I’d had in ages.  In fact, I was  looking and feeling much more like my old self again.  Man!  Best Thanksgiving EVER!!!  end.

***Another image and story slated to be published in our 4th book, “A Short Burst”…a collection of flash science fiction, illustrated.  Find our first 3 illustrated books at

Little Red Button

Little Red Button

I regained consciousness choking on a thick, salty liquid pooling in my open mouth.  I sputtered and spat, gasping for air… wasn’t my blood.  I gagged.  My right hand hurt.

I was pinned under a dozen heavy corpses, amid heaps of dismembered limbs and chunks of steaming flesh, saturated in a rising sludge of dark, viscous fluid as it oozed from them.  It smelled of piss and sweat and…even I shat myself when the combat droids opened fire on our peaceful protest.  Memories were coming back, but I couldn’t recall why my right hand ached.

In a sobbing panic I pushed and wriggled and twisted free, but as I met the open air, I was horrified at the sight of a combat droid a few feet away.  I ducked back down for cover.  It was staring at me with a flame thrower aimed at my head… had smoke billowing from under it’s helmet…dead.  I rose up again to see the whole ragged line of them, frozen in place as they were, rolling over piles of the fallen, executing survivors.

Nothing moved now.  Everything was silent but the rush of intense flames and the sizzle and pop of meat and bones on the fringes of Union Square.  There were no lights, no cars, no subways rumbling…as if someone had detonated an electromagnetic pulse, frying everything electronic within it’s blast radius.  It was a strange thought to have at that moment, along with the nagging pain in my right hand.  Well, an E.M. pulse would have been too little too late considering the carnage surrounding me…tens of thousands lay dead.

I suddenly remembered that…we had won.  We had all the evidence and finally convinced their police

to stand down and stay out of the way.  Now there was a dead cop ten feet from me.  He had no head, but at least he finally looked human.

We brought no weapons, we had no desire to kill, or even to fight them, and we expected them – the rich and powerful – to pull something desperate as we marched downtown to arrest them.  But we had the numbers and a trick or two up our own sleeves…we had inside information on their worldwide data centers, where the core of their wealth was…and we had a pile of stolen government E.M. devices in position…

I lifted my throbbing right hand to find it clenched in a hard, painful fist.  When the military combat droids rolled out, surrounding us, I was terrified.  I froze.  And when they opened fire without warning,  bodies were ripped and shredded, throwing them backward in pieces, burying me alive, unconscious, but, wasn’t I the one holding the trigger?

I opened my searing right fist to find the radio detonator, my thumb still pressing the little red button on the end.  I didn’t realize…I never actually intended to…I bent and vomited.  Many more would die now, but as I looked around again, well…we were already doing that.  end.

***This is a new short story for an old illustration…soon to be published in our fourth book, “A Short Burst” a collection of flash science fiction – with illustrations.  With only a few exceptions, the illustrations were all previously published in Analog and Asimov’s sci-fi Magazines and used as writing prompts for new stories   Find our books at   -Marsha


Monster Truck

Monster Truck-70Flippy the Clown drives a truck.                                                                      What a big ugly mean stupid fuck!?!                                                                        He tools around town                                                                                                     running poor people down                                                                                         ’till his tires are pasted with muck.

***This is a page from our “Creepy Clown Coloring Book.”  A fully rendered version was also published in our “Bludgeon the Clown” book, but you won’t ever see it (and it’s pretty fantastic) unless you get the book.  We post very little online, saving the best stuff for the books. You can find our 3 books (and buy them) on Etsy (search EEWbooks), just follow the link to our website above.  Thanks.  -Marsha



Mulberry Jelly sat on the edge of the stage covered in sticky egg juice and rotten vegetable pulp.  He couldn’t figure out what the crowd hated more, his cliché street-rapper name or the combination-spoken word/death metal version of “I’m a little tea pot” he was performing before the riot broke out.  One thing he knew for sure;  His brilliant career in show biz was over before it started…again.  The same thing happened last week when he tried a blues/ballet combo of “Freak” in front of the local Middle School Talent Show Fundraiser.  He refused to accept his Mom’s advice to study dentistry or go into his sticky Uncle Morty’s carpet cleaning business.  Who were they to call him a talentless hack?  No!  He would go on!  He would make Mulberry Jelly a household name and prove to the world… Aw hell!  Who was he kidding?  The only reason people showed up to these things was to gawk at him for the bizarre growth on his…..


***This artwork, which is only a red rough here, has been finished to a final render and is ready to be published in our “Body-Oddies” book…and it’s waaay cooler than what’s posted here, but you’ll probably never see it unless you get the book.  I really only post roughs and older work online (and only a small percentage of the pages of my books).  I save the best stuff for the books, so if you like the crap I let you see here, consider getting one of my books.  It IS how I make my living.  I have 3 books out so far and 2 more coming this year.  There are links above or you can find them on Etsy and Amazon (search EEW books)…’they make excellent gifts.’   -Marsha